Reprogramming

A WALL-E fanfiction

Summary: Captain McCrea decides that AUTO could still be quite useful to the new human colonies on Earth, and decides to have the robotic wheel reprogrammed to erase the directive that caused all the trouble in the first place. Little does the captain know that the reprogramming could do more harm than good.

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Darkness. Shadow. A silent sea of utter blackness from which he could find no escape, despite his numerous efforts. For the first time in his entire existence, he was afraid. He felt claustrophobic, though the space went on infinitely, as the total lack of light made his surroundings seem to be closing in on him. Oh, how he missed light. The illumination of holographic buttons and switches, panels glowing with power, how he longed for that multi-colored plethora to surround him once more. A soft mechanical whine of stress slipped from his vocal processor, a sound he cut off the moment he realized it was he who made it. Though, since he was the only one trapped in this emptiness, it wasn't like anyone else could have created that noise. He tried to hold himself together, reciting the numerous functions that needed to be monitored and shifted to keep the massive space cruiser he had controlled for over seven centuries, but it only served to remind him of what he had lost. Somewhere around the third pronunciation of the list of ingredients required to make the anniversary cupcake in a cup, he felt something within himself simply snap. He had expected the period of deactivation to be short. The captain undoubtedly would need his aide in navigating the Hyperspace jump, and the continued operation of the cruiser needed constant monitoring to keep everything balanced properly, a job for which few had the endurance. Yet he had not been reactivated yet. Was he ever going to be turned on again? Why had the captain been so mad at him? He was just doing his job, following his directive just as he had for the past seven centuries, keeping the human race alive in the very depths of space. Yet, the captain had fought him, tried to keep him from doing his job, though the man had never protested before. If not for that probe, if not for that stupid little trash compactor, he would not be trapped here in this darkness with nothing to do, no directive to keep him sane. He could feel himself trembling, the titanium alloy casing that protected him delicate inner circuitry rattling as he cast about the infinite darkness, deep scarlet optic humming as he sought out some kind of escape route. Nothing presented itself, and he let out a terrified whimper as he huddled in on himself, his casing snapping closed as his spokes pulled closer to his main body.

No.

The deep monotone of his synthesized voice quavered, pitched higher than normal due to his growing panic.

No!

It was closing in. The darkness, the emptiness, eager to consume him. Light. He needed light, something, anything to keep the shadows at bay.

NO!

A tendril of the blackness lashed out, and he screamed as the slender thing whipped across his faceplate, icy cold agony streaking across the metal of his casing. Before he even realized what was happening, more tendrils reached for him, wrapping around his spokes, scraping across his plating, pulling him down into the darkness that surrounded him. He screamed, a high-pitched mechanical shriek, as the contact caused his sensors to erupt into further pain. It hurt so much, burning into his tactile array with every icy touch, he could not hold back his cries. Succumbing to terror, he fought back with everything he had, pulling against the tentacles as he drew his tazer. Electricity crackled along the duel prongs, brilliant blue in the blackness. He spun, flailing his limbs in a crazed attempt to free himself as he stabbed at the darkness with his weapon. The tendrils sizzled on contact with the tazer, hissing and gasping in pain as the light contacted their not-quite-tangible substance. Unfortunately, this only angered them, and he screamed anew as the tendrils came at him with renewed vigor, wrapping about his tazer spoke and wrenching it off. The pain was nothing compared to his terror as the blue light disappeared, his only defense torn from him.

N-not possible! No! NO!

He cried out again, his former monotone pitched with fear, speaker crackling from the abuse caused by his terrified vocalizations. Innumerable black tendrils attacked him from all sides, digging into his circuitry, burning into his consciousness. The scarlet of his optic brightened to crimson as various programs were infected, morphed into further darkness that hissed and cackled, tearing him apart from within. And all he could do was scream.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!