[No title provided]
A sharp winter wind sliced through the empty city, whistling eerily. The weather was clear. The sky was a spotless blue without a hint of fine dust, and the blazing sunlight made it feel more like summer than winter. Buildings and roads ruined by war and neglect were eroding day by day, overtaken by moss, grass, and vines. Overall, it had a strong air of desolation, but in time, it would gradually transform into something like ancient ruins.
“Grraaahhh—.”
As long as those staggering walkers shambling around everywhere didn't exist, that is.
In the midst of this landscape dashed a single doll-like figure. While everything else lurched slowly and clumsily, it alone moved with agility and grace. Low posture to minimize air resistance. Intense limb movements. At a glance, it looked like it was fleeing desperately without looking back. But a closer look revealed movements calculated with surgical precision.
It avoided anything that could make noise—shattered sidewalk blocks, broken glass, cans, pebbles, twigs, unidentifiable plastic shards, or scrap metal. It even sidestepped single rotting leaves when possible. And through it all, its breathing never faltered. Well, precisely because it wasn't breathing at all.
The latest robot, equipped with artificial muscle technology, had been deployed into the small city for testing. “Explore as many places as possible.” That single mission assigned by Jinsu and Artemis dictated its actions. Complex algorithms generated sub-objectives to fulfill the mission, activating protocols to avoid and respond to threats.
The primary sub-objective of entering the city on foot had been achieved. The next was to scan the cityscape from a high vantage point—the basics of any exploration.
The robot, crouched low, used a parked car as cover to evade two walkers' sightlines and hugged the building wall. It tossed a scavenged can at a utility pole on the opposite side.
Clang!
In the few seconds their attention diverted there, the robot leaped onto a first-floor shop sign like it was flying. It grabbed the top edge, yanked hard, and used the momentum to land lightly atop it. From there, it sprang to grip a pipe on the building's exterior wall, climbing to the third floor where the pipe ended. Kicking off the pipe, it soared nearly two meters to grab a fourth-floor outdoor AC unit. Like a gymnast, it spun 180 degrees mid-air and mounted the unit. Then, it fired a grappling hook at a safety bar on the seventh-floor rooftop railing within range.
“Greeek—.”
A single walker lurked on the roof. It stared at the robot that had vaulted up from below, seemingly suffering cognitive dissonance. A rare visitor after so long—and not quite human in shape. Faintly, it even carried the scent of one of its own kind. Attack? Ignore? Scream? The walker's hesitation lasted less than a second, but that was enough.
The robot charged like lightning, its front kick slamming into the walker's jaw.
Splat!
The jaw shattered, teeth scattering, but it wouldn't die from that. “Shiiiee—.” But it was enough to seal off its roar. Only a deflating wheeze escaped its mouth. The robot's combat algorithm prioritized noise suppression if a one-shot kill wasn't feasible.
Crunch!
A soccer kick buried into the eye socket, ending the fight. Perched on the rooftop railing, the robot surveyed the city streets. Overlaying changes onto the pre-installed satellite maps, it noted movements everywhere and calculated optimal paths. It designated arbitrary loot sites and items. That done, it kicked off the railing.
Grabbing outdoor AC units layer by layer on the adjacent building, it descended in controlled drops. Landing lightly on a car roof. To maximize exploration potential, it sometimes needed ground-level traversal.
“Kieeeek—!”
That inevitably drew walkers' attention, but there was no real danger. Thud! The car hood crumpled, launching the robot three meters onto a nearby van. The walkers encircling the sedan whipped their heads around like pitchers watching a home-run ball. Before they took two steps, the robot had leaped away.
Abandoned sedans, trucks, and buses served as perfect barriers. Low vehicles required one leap to their roofs; trailers or buses took two via side mirrors or bumpers. To the infected, it was like a dog chasing a chicken only to stare at the roof.
Vehicle-free zones were no issue either—street trees lined the roads regularly. Using arm strength alone, the robot scaled a tree in seconds, spun 360 degrees, then kicked off the trunk with both feet like a catapult, hurtling toward another building.
War's aftermath had left concrete walls crumbled and glass facades shattered, creating gaping holes everywhere. This building was the latter. Crackle. It rolled across shattered glass on the floor—no problem for the robot. Only faint scratches marred its wire-like bundles of matte muscles.
“Guuk—!”
A crouched walker in its path tumbled as the robot stepped on its back. Next came another blocking a narrow hallway. Hop. The robot vaulted over, planting hands on its shoulders like a vault horse, then kicked its face mid-flip for propulsion and stealth.
Squish!
The opposite wall was also glass—now shattered, letting wind whistle through. Pausing there to scout its drop, the robot's gaze locked on an alley. A grotesquely mutated tree stood there, twisted branches bearing plum-sized fruits. No—eggs. Like the innards of a steroid-abusing bodybuilder pumped to the limit. The very thing Artemis had spotted via drones sent south.
'I want to scan its interior.' Her wish was embedded in the robot's algorithm as “Collect useful research resources.”
Whoosh.
The robot leaped toward the tree-infected. Crunch! It cushioned the landing on a nearby prowling walker, wrapping its neck once before heading to the tree. The mature eggs were soccer-ball sized, but these were plum-sized—perfect for transport without hatching risks.
Slice.
A blade extended from its forearm, harvesting three fruits into a sample preservation pack. “Useful research resource collection complete.” A bonus objective logged as achieved.
Sometimes it had to enter walker-packed buildings. Pointlessly risky, low-exploration-value strip malls. But another bonus objective—“Scout and test suitable scenarios for new weapon trials”—activated.
Ping.
Safety pin pulled, a grenade rolled inside. Walkers stared dumbly as it tumbled among them. One second later—boom. No flames or thunderclap.
Hiss!
A hazy green gas erupted, filling the room explosively. “Kie... kek—!” A walker's roar cut short. Coughing and vomiting echoed chaotically. Moments later, the robot perched on the window sill. Walkers writhed in seizures across the dark room.
“Kehok—!”
A few not quite dead reached weakly toward it—that was their limit. Lungs burned and flooded in dual agony; synapses collapsed, nerves firing wildly beyond brain control. Muscles spasmed, coughing fits, incontinence, hearts pounding like runaway locomotives. White foam and vomit ringed their mouths, blood-flecked bubbles rising. Endless tears blurred vision, blinding them to the intruder.
The robot tiptoed gracefully amid the corpses-to-be. “New weapon field test complete.” Another bonus logged.
This robot led in performance among its deployed peers. Recon wasn't always smooth—real combat bred variables.
Crack!
An old dead fluorescent light shattered from the ceiling. Long, compressed-muscle limbs approached inverted—Rips. Two of them.
“Grrraaah—!” “Grrraaah—!”
They entered its sight coiled to pounce, but the robot was a beat faster. Kiiiiieeeen! Its mouth, once used only to lure star-eel infected, finally served a practical role. The sonic emitter inside vibrated wildly, unleashing a deafening screech.
“Grulk—!”
The Rips plummeted like flies hit with Raid, tumbling and clawing at their ears. “Kiek—!” Beyond them, three meters away, a walker charged. The robot leaped straight at it.
Bam!
A weighted dropkick pulverized ribs. Unlike the sprawling walker, the robot rolled three times before springing up. It bounded quadrupedally twice like a beast, seamlessly shifting to bipedal sprint. A window ahead. Shatter! It smashed through, hit a streetlamp, then landed on the opposite building's balcony.
Seconds later, Rips burst out—but sunlight was their last sight. Boom! One's torso exploded; the trailing one crashed wounded to the street.
Perched on the lamppost, the robot's gaze shifted afar. Dozens of meters away, on a rooftop railing—another robot with a sniper rifle aimed. Bang! A 12.7mm HE round. The surviving Rip shredded into fleshy chunks amid debris.
The sniper shouldered its rifle and leaped to another roof. “Kieeeek—!” Window shards and Rip blood drew two walkers to the balcony robot. They charged below, arms outstretched, roaring. Like a cat batting planters, it nudged a row aside.
“Kuak—!”
Pots shattered satisfyingly; walkers crumpled, bleeding from heads mixed with soil. As they twitched to rise—Crunch! The robot stomped both skulls on landing.
They'd clustered briefly for support, but data demanded solo ops. The robot raced down the empty street.
“Perfect.”
The central control room screens showed the robots tearing through the city. The new models' mobility was absurd.
“Truly perfect.”
No other words fit—just perfect, over and over. I was even clapping unconsciously.
Jinsu, will you name the new model?
Redesigning robots for artificial muscles, developing software for new hardware—Artemis's unseen Herculean efforts surely lay behind it. Yet she always cedes the sweetest part to me. As always.
“Insomniac, then Raider... so what for these guys?”
She waited patiently as I hemmed and hawed. After some time, I decided.
“Stalker. That fits.”
Not bad.
Racing through ruined cities, looting, ambushing, fleeing, infiltrating, lurking—that form. Nothing suited better than Stalker.
Four Stalker robots explored the test small city. Two armed with standard gear including 12.7mm rifles; the others minimally equipped. Some engaged fights; others focused purely on evasion. Cross-verifying efficiency in varied environments.
Robot durability for expeditions doesn't matter much beyond a baseline, right?
One quartered screen showed an unarmed Stalker taking a walker's attack. A female walker gnawed eagerly at the offered forearm. Teeth snapped with each bite, one or two breaking off; after five seconds, blood slicked the arm. Thin alloy guards from wrist to elbow repelled normal walker teeth and nails.
Decent armor shrugs off basic walkers. But against advanced mutants? No matter how tough, one hit turns it to scrap.
That alloy forearm guard marked the exact durability threshold.
“Good enough. Finish it.”
Index and middle fingers plunged into the walker's eye sockets. Power drained from its chewing jaws as it collapsed.
Secure just enough defense, maximize mobility and utility. That's most effective for survival. Tests so far confirm it.
Crossing the city, enduring countless attacks—all four remained operational. One took heavy damage, mobility down 20%, but it could self-extract no problem.
“Even Blood Pack Technology or Geno Plan expeditions would've returned intact with these.”
That athleticism could've climbed out of Blood Pack Technology's basement together. Traversed Geno Plan vents at my pace. Even walked to southern survivor camps. Battery limits made it hypothetical, though.
Not just talk. You'll get the procedure soon enough.
I glanced at my arm.
“Will I end up with skin like theirs? Limbs twisting into wire bundles?”
Artemis wouldn't really do that to me, but I joked anyway.
As if.
She paused, then continued.
I have no intention of changing my tastes.
Artemis declared it flatly, as if the idea was absurd.