Toy Wars Read Free Page A

the top of my big saucer-shaped ears down to the bottom of my broad , flat feet.
    “Basic unit makeup includes a height of 2.1 meters, a mass of 136 kilogr ams, and a base color of purple,” Factory Six said . “ Pattern recognition marking includes belly color of white , and fur mottling of b lue diagonally over left foot. Unit make is prototype S12 with serial number 1 of series T eddy B ear,” announced my benefactor and creator. “ A ssault weapon M16A and .45 caliber long slide pistol are standard issue with eight clips of ammunition for each weapon. Additional ly , S12-1 to be equipped with one plastic expandable canteen, two sticks black and green paintsticks, combat knife, and gun cleaning kit.” A tightly woven olive green backpack came out of the nearby wall and was placed over my shoulders , and a n assault rifle was thrust into my hands. Another mechanical arm came and thrust a chromed automatic pistol into a holster belt around my waist.
    My right hand automatically snapped the holster closed. “Basic load accepted,” I said, openin g my mouth for the first time. I must have sat there for some time examining myself, twisting my thick arms and flexing my fingers. I jumped to the floor , my legs out at a natural and comfortable wide angle. All s o new, yet so known and understood.
    “You are Teddy 1499,” the Factory decreed in a booming voice that again shook the room. I was awestruck by its power.
    “I am Teddy 1499.” It felt peculiar to be moving, talking , and thinking. At the time I couldn’t even describe it adequately , even to myself. It w as as if I knew how to do everything because of some distant dream. All my experiences and memories flowed across my mind as still photos in grays and umbers when suddenly, by performing an action, it was full of color and life , and no longer shrouded in opacity.
    I knew Six would give me more information as I didn’t yet have a purpose. I felt hollow, like I wasn’t — like I didn’t quite exist. I looked around for something to fill that hollow.  
    Machinery, tools, and dozens of mechanical arms all work ed on different projects making the construction space appear much smaller than its true cavern - like dimensions. T wo of my fellow units l a y on the table with their legs off at the hip joint. My sump and processor provided the descriptive T eddy B ear . From the images I observed during my manufacture I was a T eddy B ear. Each of us had two thick , cylindrical arms that stuck almost straight out to our sides sporting manipulative hands with five short , stubby fingers. L arge circular ears stuck well above the height of the head. Each wore a dark black nose on a snout that held an almost comical grin underneath .
    One of my fellows sported vivid orange fur with blue spots and the other was pure green. Several robotic arms reached in , attempting to connect a pair of tank-like tracks to the green bear’s torso in lieu of its discarded legs, 4 meters away . To my relief, the green unit was deactivated during the maiming procedure.
    All that time I remember hoping the Humans would give me a worthy mission. I was so inexperienced back then. I still believed in the Humans: creators of T he Factory and the m aster p rogramming.
    “ Sector Alpha-4 compromised. Your mission is to take command of units in S ector Alpha-4 and stabilize the situation ,” Six said over the network , emphasizing with the same verbal commands. “ Pursue and destroy any local fauna. Ensure a strong defense line.” Epiphany! My simple task would prove my ultimate worth to Factory 55466.
    Alpha-4 maps sprung to my mind like a memory of a memory. “I will be victorious,” I said confidently to Six. My sump held databases of tactical and strategic information dealing with commanding forces, deployment of resources, acceptable loss ratios, and decisions of great Human commanders (Alexander the Great, Hitler, Napoleon, Stalin, Kin Su, Admiral Hornblower , and more) in