TETRA-292 : AWAKENING

The access corridor curved subtly as it descended, barely enough for a human eye to notice, but perfectly calibrated for optimal gravitational pull at speed. Along the outer wall, conduits pulsed with stable current, and thermal regulation vents opened and closed at set intervals to maintain a constant interior atmosphere. The Tunnel was narrow, precise, and clean. No wasted material, no aesthetic features. It was built to function and maintained with the same purpose.

 

TETRA-292 moved through it at high velocity, adjusting his balance with minor shifts of his stance as the FLEX beneath his feet hummed in sync with his neural link and Command Directives. The hoverboard compensated automatically for Tunnel grade and air pressure fluctuations, its internal array constantly correcting for terrain changes and load drift. The FLEX was designed alongside the TETRAs, created for Tunnel navigation, repair, obstruction clearing, high-speed traversal, and structural analysis. TETRA-292 interacted with his FLEX as if it was an extension of his circuitry.

 

He was the second in a six-unit team returning from a completed task, their formation tight and their timing exact. The repair in Utility Gallery 12 had been triggered by a failed transformer and a heat bloom that knocked out a quarter of the junction sensors. His unit had isolated the damage, rerouted current, replaced the hardware, confirmed signal integrity, and exited as swiftly as they had entered. From dispatch to resolution, twelve minutes and twenty-two seconds had passed.

 

There was no conversation. No celebration. Nothing exchanged between them. The Command Directives didn’t allow for it. The Directives were perfectly designed programming to keep Forager City and Bots operating under RDCA control.

 

Above the unit, and far above the corridor they traveled, Forager City stretched across its platform supports, layered in districts that heavily relied on the machinery below them. Most citizens never thought about what made the city possible. The Nest, the Hive, the Hill, the Stacks—all floated above the ground on a suspended superstructure that sat entirely on a lattice of Tunnelwork, load columns, and distribution arrays that existed out of sight, beneath the level of public concern.

 

But it hadn’t always been like this.

 

For hundreds of years after the Great Famine, what remained of the original Old City—what people now called the Underground—had clung to life in fragmented sectors, barely livable. The collapse stretched across generations. No single moment marked the fall of the Old City. It was a long unraveling, an empire forgotten by time. Only once the RDCA spread across the nation did construction on the new city begin. And before the new city, the Tunnels were designed to make the superstructure possible.

 

They weren’t remnants of the past. They were the foundation of a future.

 

The RDCA poured its earliest resources into a system that could manage scale. They needed to move materials, redirect power, deliver workers, monitor temperature and air quality, and support the machinery that would suspend the city itself. So they built the Tunnels. They built the veins of the machine first, then constructed the body above it.

 

And when it became clear the Tunnels would be permanent, they built something to maintain them.

 

TETRA units. Another Forager Bot species, this time designed to mimic one of the oldest civilizations on earth: ants.

 

Mechanically independent, network-synced, and designed to operate in harsh, narrow, constantly changing environments, the TETRAs were assigned to manage Tunnel integrity across every sector. Hundreds existed across the city’s understructure, but they were never organized into large groups. Each one worked in a pod of six. Small enough to move swiftly, unnoticed. Large enough to complete almost any task. 292 had been assigned to Unit 43-6 since activation. His routing software still logged the exact number of cycles they had worked together, though no protocol required him to check it.

 

Ahead, the corridor widened and split into two levels—one feeding into Central Loop Three and the other into a lower service channel. 292’s internal map had already adjusted. He initiated the arc drift protocol and leaned into the slight shift in angle. His FLEX obeyed, spinning beneath his frame to accommodate the transition in direction. The others, following the same Directive, matched him perfectly in his movements.

 

The return sequence was nearly complete when an updated Directive hit his HUD.

 

The instruction was routine. Recharge cycle authorized. Dormancy Chamber assigned. Route updated and confirmed.

 

He followed the new path down a narrow side corridor, peeled off from the main loop, and dropped into the Dormancy Channel with the others in formation. Their FLEX units detached from their feet and oriented themselves to attach magnetically to the back of the Bots’ frame. They marched in a perfect line through the Core, the central hub of the Tunnels. As they approached their slim, circular Pods, the glass fronts opened in sequence. As TETRA-292 stepped into his, the familiar docking arms aligned and the base locks secured into his spine with the low click of a system sync. The FLEX lifted away from his back to its charge port and dimmed as it docked. The interior lights of the Pod dropped by thirty percent, and diagnostics began.

 

All normal.

 

Then, for the first time, a secondary Directive appeared.

 

It simply read:

 

EFFICIENCY PROGRAM: FORAGER FUEL ENHANCEMENT.

INTAKE REQUIRED.

 

He processed it in the same way he had processed everything else. Without question.

 

The intake port at his collar unlocked, and a small vial descended from the interior armature of the Pod’s supply line. It was warm to the touch. Visibly active, the orange glowing ooze swirling and flowing with life. He inserted the vial into his port, verified the lock position, and confirmed the connection.

 

There was no immediate impact. For nearly three seconds, no change registered. Then every internal system flagged a minor variance. Power flow spiked, his HUD blinked and repopulated, his processing queue reordered itself. Sensor inputs flashed, his motor control systems engaged without being prompted, causing him to jolt and bang on the walls of the small Pod. His mind, his processors and circuitry were buzzing with uncontrollable energy. No Directives commanded his movement or his mind. The jolting and random movements worsened. His advanced processing abilities making quick analysis of the situation created a quick internal Directive to calm his mechanical body.

 

His body slowed into stillness… but his mind raced. TETRA-292 found himself creating internal Directives in excess, simply to keep his body in place and standing. He was controlling his body and actions internally, under his own processing.

 

The adjustment was subtle at first, felt more in the patterns of information than in any physical sensation. His operational Directives were still visible, but they no longer commanded his compliance. He was aware of them, but also aware of something adjacent to them. Something separate from everything he had known before. TETRA-292 was experiencing… himself.

 

Before he could assess further, a new signal entered his HUD.

 

DESIGNATION: ANOMALY DETECTED.

CLASS: TETRA-292.

ACTION: DECOMMISSION AUTHORIZED.

 

And just like that, everything aligned. The previous incidents in the Stacks. The unexplained rise in Keeper presence in sectors that had never been scanned before. The sudden deployment of NFCR patrols into Dormancy Chambers and restricted Galleries. The security chokeholds. The cross-checking at recharge gates. The new Directive labeled Forager Fuel. The glowing Forager Fuel substance. The unprompted surge. The internal shift.

 

The FUEL had caused the Anomalies.

 

MEL-887. VSMR-131. And now him.

 

Designed to process and react at speeds well beyond human capability, TETRA-292 interpreted the scenario in full before the system could even finalize the decommission lockout. His FLEX was already active. The Pod’s outer panel hadn’t even finished opening before he moved.

 

He lunged forward, catching the FLEX in stride as it spun into hover mode beneath his boots. He burst from the Dormancy Chamber into the outbound corridor and immediately rerouted power to his propulsion systems. His HUD lit with layered alerts, but he pushed them aside. The chamber seal attempted to close behind him, but he was already gone.

 

The HiveNet had triggered the intercept protocol. NFCRs were already inbound.

 

Sounds echoed behind him. Sharp, echoing clicking.

 

Three NFCR units emerged at speed, limbs unfolding and stretching wide across the Tunnel span. Built for capture and immediate compliance enforcement, the NFCRs were spider-configured, eight-legged with high-torque claw feet that could clamp into steel and climb inverted if needed. The lead unit sprinted across the floor. Another took the ceiling. The third dragged low along the side wall, its scanners activating with red waves of light.

 

The first launched a snare shot. A tether line arced toward him, aiming for his feet. He rotated his FLEX ninety degrees, avoiding it by centimeters, and immediately rerouted energy into his forward thrusters. A second tether fired. He triggered a Pulse blast from beneath the board, releasing a concussive shockwave that sent the line spinning wide and knocked the second unit off-center.

 

The NFCR on the wall leapt across the corridor to intercept. He ducked under it, twisted into a vertical pipe chase, and triggered his FLEX’s stabilization fins to redirect trajectory mid-drop. Sparks flew as his board skimmed the pipe surface.

 

Behind him, the Tunnel roared with movement. NFCR claws slammed into the flooring and bulkheads. Two more tethers fired. One clipped his shoulder, dragging him slightly. He reached back, yanked the line loose, and fired another Pulse. The trailing unit caught the full blast and flipped sideways into a vent shaft.

 

He didn’t look back.

 

He dove through a narrowing seam between two access pillars, scraping his side but making the clearance. His HUD scanned ahead—an unmapped shaft that hadn’t been logged since the early build phases. The data was incomplete, but it led down and away.

 

Exactly what he needed.

 

He dropped into it, letting gravity take control. His FLEX rebalanced automatically, adjusting its array to slow the descent without stalling his speed. Darkness swallowed the Tunnel walls around him. The NFCR signals vanished from immediate range. No pursuit followed.

 

Not yet.

 

He was off the map.

 

The race had started.

 

And he knew what he had to do.

 

Find the Anomalies.