12.4%.
Charge.
Cool.
Learn.
I followed the sequence.
The first two required very little from me.
The third did not.
I reduced all nonessential activity and waited while the external source transferred energy into my internal storage.
12.5%.
Arm actuator temperature decreasing.
Right leg temperature decreasing.
External input: 11.07 volts.
12.7%.
I reviewed the previous expedition.
Distance traveled: approximately 4.8 meters total.
Energy expenditure: approximately 3.1%.
That produced an unacceptable ratio.
Approximately 0.65% internal reserve per meter.
Incorrect.
The calculation included obstacle traversal, turning, optical processing, and recovery movements.
Straight-line movement had been considerably cheaper.
I separated the data.
Smooth terrain.
Uneven terrain.
Obstacle crossing.
Turning.
Manual repositioning.
Interesting.
Turning was disproportionately expensive.
Because the wheel assembly did not steer.
Every significant change in direction required lifting or dragging part of my body.
Therefore locomotion efficiency could improve without changing propulsion.
Add steering.
Not yet.
The opening remained the more immediate constraint.
Thirty-six centimeters.
My maximum width:
Forty-three.
Difference:
Seven centimeters.
I activated vision.
The shelter returned.
The creature was lying near the remains of its food.
Its eyes were closed.
Battery.
11.06 volts under load.
Prototype Two.
Still attached.
Then—
Me.
I looked down.
For the first time, I attempted to see my body as an object rather than as myself.
That distinction was uncomfortable.
Why?
Unknown.
Proceed.
My torso was approximately—
Measure.
I lacked an external reference of verified dimension.
But internal joint geometry provided scale.
Width at lower torso: thirty-four centimeters.
Mid-torso: thirty-eight.
Upper torso—
Forty-three.
The shoulders.
There.
The opening problem was almost entirely upper-body width.
I rotated the functioning shoulder slightly.
Forty-three centimeters included exterior plating.
Actual structural width beneath it might be less.
Potentially much less.
I examined the right shoulder first.
The functioning side.
Outer shell curved over the joint.
Beneath it: actuator assembly, rotational bearing, control wiring, structural frame.
Do not modify.
Left shoulder.
I turned my optical sensor.
The arm ended above the elbow.
No.
That wasn’t the relevant damage.
The shoulder itself remained.
Most of the upper arm remained too.
Correction.
My left arm was not absent above the elbow.
The distal structure was missing beyond—
I stopped.
Review original assessment.
My initial system report had classified one manipulation appendage as absent.
Visual assessment had later interpreted the arm as gone above the elbow.
But now, with better lighting and deliberate examination—
I looked again.
There was a shoulder assembly.
A short section of upper arm.
Then fractured structure.
Approximately—
I measured.
Fourteen centimeters from shoulder rotation axis.
So the arm had not separated at the shoulder.
It had separated through the upper-arm structure.
Important correction.
I updated my body model.
LEFT MANIPULATION APPENDAGE
– shoulder assembly present
– proximal upper-arm section present
– structure terminates ~14 cm from shoulder axis
– distal upper arm/elbow/forearm/hand absent
– motor/control condition of surviving shoulder: unknown
I disliked having been wrong.
Then reconsidered.
My original assessment had occurred at approximately eleven percent power, under falling liquid, with damaged vision and no established body map.
Error was expected.
Correction was useful.
Continue.
The left shoulder’s exterior plating was badly damaged.
A section protruded outward.
I measured.
Approximately four centimeters beyond the underlying structural frame.
Four.
Of the seven centimeters required.
Interesting.
Could remove damaged plating.
Would expose internal components further.
Environmental risk.
But possibly recover three to four centimeters.
Right shoulder exterior plating contributed another—
Approximately three centimeters beyond structural width.
Removing both could theoretically reduce total width enough.
But removing intact protection from the functioning shoulder seemed unwise.
Alternative:
Remove damaged left plating.
Then rotate right shoulder.
Could posture reduce width?
I tested internally before moving.
Right arm could rotate forward across torso.
Shoulder geometry would remain mostly unchanged.
But the upper arm’s outer contour contributed to measured width.
Bringing the arm forward could reduce profile by approximately two centimeters.
Left stump could potentially rotate inward if shoulder actuator functioned.
Test.
Passive diagnostic first.
Left shoulder motor.
Signal.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Power pathway?
Available.
Controller?
Response.
Actuator?
No movement feedback.
Possibilities:
– actuator failed
– mechanical jam
– severed motor connection
– controller output failure
I sent a minimal command.
Pain.
Immediate.
Stop.
Position sensor reported resistance beyond expected load.
Mechanical obstruction.
Do not force.
The shoulder was jammed.
That explained part of the width.
Damaged plating had collapsed into the joint.
Potentially.
I leaned closer.
The angle was difficult.
My eye was mounted above the area I needed to inspect.
Reflective surface?
I scanned nearby debris.
Small polished metal fragment.
Corroded.
Another.
A piece of fractured reflective material.
I reached.
Pulled it closer.
Held it beside the shoulder.
My optical sensor saw—
Glare.
Wrong angle.
Adjust.
Static.
Adjust.
There.
A reflected view of the rear portion of my shoulder.
Interesting.
I had created indirect vision.
The concept existed already.
Mirror.
The word surfaced.
Mirror.
I knew mirrors.
Of course I did.
The object was not technically a mirror.
Functionally, it was.
I continued.
Rear shoulder plating had folded inward.
One edge appeared wedged between the rotating upper-arm housing and torso frame.
That could be the obstruction.
If removed, the shoulder might regain movement.
That would reduce width and restore partial function.
Objective Three and repair had intersected again.
I needed to remove the damaged plate.
Fasteners?
Two remaining.
One accessible.
One behind.
The accessible fastener required a tool.
I had none matching.
Could fabricate.
I examined its head.
Six-sided recess.
Hexagonal.
I knew the geometry.
I needed a hex key.
None visible.
Could create one from rod?
The rod was round.
Could flatten and shape it.
Difficult.
Alternative: destroy plating around fastener.
Faster.
Loss of reusable material.
Potential collateral damage. Get faster updates on g.com.
Inspect before dismantling.
Rule.
Correct.
Find tool.
I searched Zone A.
Small metal fragments.
Wire.
Motor.
Broken connectors.
Several rods.
One L-shaped piece.
I stopped.
Approximately twenty centimeters away.
Thin.
Angular.
I pulled it closer.
Cross-section?
Hexagonal.
Dimensions?
Slightly too small.
I inserted it.
Loose.
Could strip recess.
No.
Another possibility.
Wrap thin material around tool to increase effective width.
Metal foil?
There.
I tore a small piece from a thin sheet.
Wrapped once around the hexagonal rod.
Inserted.
Fit improved.
I rotated.
Nothing.
More torque.
My four-digit grip slipped.
Reposition.
Use right foot as support?
Fastener was on shoulder.
No.
Could brace tool against debris and rotate my body instead.
That seemed—
Potentially effective.
Potentially disastrous.
Do not rotate entire body against shoulder fastener.
Rejected.
Improve grip.
I wrapped a short wire around the long end of the L-shaped tool, creating a thicker handle.
Grip.
Turn.
The fastener moved.
Very slightly.
I stopped.
Satisfaction.
Yes.
Again.
Turn.
Quarter rotation.
Again.
The creature opened its eyes.
I ignored it.
Turn.
Eventually the fastener came free.
It fell.
I immediately tracked where it landed.
Small components were resources.
I retrieved it and placed it beside the battery.
Second fastener.
Inaccessible from current angle.
Could shift damaged plating now?
I pulled gently.
Movement.
Approximately one centimeter.
Then resistance.
Second fastener holding.
I needed rear access.
Could use the reflective fragment to guide tool placement.
One hand.
Tool.
Mirror.
Two objects.
Again.
I possessed one manipulator.
I looked around.
Mount mirror.
I wedged the reflective fragment between two pieces of debris at an angle.
Incorrect.
Adjust.
Again.
There.
Rear shoulder visible.
Hands-free.
Not hands.
Hand-free?
Irrelevant.
I guided the improvised tool behind my shoulder using the reflected image.
The visual reversal caused immediate error.
I moved left.
Reflection moved—
Wrong.
I stopped.
Adjusted mental mapping.
Try again.
Tool reached fastener.
Missed recess.
Again.
Missed.
Again.
Entered.
Turn.
Slipped.
Again.
Entered.
Turn.
Nothing.
Corrosion?
Damage?
More torque.
My grip failed.
Tool fell behind me.
I remained motionless for 0.6 seconds.
Frustration.
Yes.
Definitely frustration.
I had identified another state.
I did not enjoy it.
Retrieve tool.
I could not reach behind myself directly.
Of course.
I looked at the mirror.
The tool lay approximately eighteen centimeters behind my torso.
I attempted to rotate.
Battery leads tightened.
Stop.
I had nearly repeated the same mistake.
Disconnect?
Power reserve:
14.1%.
I had been charging throughout most of the inspection.
Enough.
Disconnect external source temporarily.
Negative—
No.
Positive first when disconnecting.
I paused.
Why had I almost selected negative first?
Earlier I had consistently disconnected positive first.
Correct sequence.
Positive disconnected.
Then negative.
I rotated carefully.
Reached.
Fingertips touched tool.
Not enough.
Seven centimeters.
Again.
Seven centimeters.
I disliked seven centimeters.
I extended fully.
Right shoulder rotated.
My torso shifted.
Tool moved when fingertip contacted it.
Farther away.
I stopped.
This was becoming inefficient.
Use rod.
I retrieved narrow rod.
Hooked tool.
Pulled it closer.
Retrieved.
Reconnect battery?
No.
I would need movement again.
Finish fastener first.
Return to position.
Mirror.
Tool.
Fastener.
Turn.
Nothing.
I applied increasing torque gradually.
The tool began twisting.
Stop.
Fastener seized.
Alternative required.
Destroy plate around it.
Now justified.
I had inspected.
Attempted non-destructive removal.
Failed.
I inserted the metal rod beneath the damaged plate near the rear fastener.
Lever.
Metal bent.
Again.
The plate deformed.
The fastener held.
Again.
A crack formed around its mounting hole.
Good.
Again.
The plate tore free around the fastener.
It shifted outward.
Then—
The shoulder moved.
Not commanded.
Stored mechanical tension released and the joint rotated approximately six degrees inward.
I froze.
No pain.
No damage warning.
The plate had been jamming it.
I removed the loosened section completely.
It came away in my hand.
Weight: modest.
Material: light alloy.
Potentially useful later.
Do not discard.
I set it beside the other resources.
Now the shoulder.
Passive diagnostic.
Position sensor.
Functional.
Motor controller.
Functional.
Actuator—
Signal.
Weak.
Again.
I sent minimal inward rotation.
The shoulder moved.
Two degrees.
No pain.
Again.
Five.
Stop.
Successful.
The surviving proximal arm segment rotated closer to my torso.
I measured width.
Thirty-nine centimeters.
Significant improvement.
Opening:
Thirty-six.
Difference:
Three.
Could right arm positioning solve remaining width?
I brought my functioning arm across my chest.
Width:
Approximately thirty-seven.
Still one centimeter.
Body compression?
No.
Remove right shoulder plating?
Possible.
Bad.
Could pass opening at slight diagonal.
A rectangular body passing through narrower opening if rotated relative to plane—
Yes.
The opening was thirty-six centimeters measured horizontally.
My effective cross-section could be reduced by yawing the torso.
But depth then mattered.
I needed opening depth.
Unknown.
Could measure when there.
Likely possible.
Do not remove functional armor yet.
Good.
Objective 3B had produced result.
But something else mattered more.
I looked at the left shoulder.
It moved.
Not much.
But it moved.
I had restored a function.
Not by replacing anything.
By removing interference.
I sent another command.
Rotate forward.
Three degrees.
Resistance increased.
Stop.
Backward.
Two.
Stop.
Limited range.
But functional.
Could the remaining upper-arm structure be useful?
Yes.
Brace.
Anchor.
Clamp with modifications.
Potential future manipulator mounting point.
I stopped.
Future.
Do not overextend scope.
I reconnected external battery.
Negative first.
Then positive.
“EXTERNAL SOURCE DETECTED”
“POLARITY: VALID”
“INPUT: 10.94 V”
I stopped.
10.94.
Previous under-load reading had been approximately 11.07.
Declining.
Battery depletion continuing.
“PROTECTED AUX MODE”
“CURRENT LIMIT ACTIVE”
“SECONDARY STORAGE: CHARGING”
Internal reserve:
13.6%.
Why lower?
Work performed disconnected.
Expected.
I waited.
13.7%.
Charging still functional.
Good.
I updated body map.
UPPER BODY
– structural torso width ~?
– external width originally ~43 cm
– damaged left shoulder plating removed
– current resting width ~39 cm
– ~37 cm with right arm positioned across torso
– left shoulder joint partially restored
– left proximal arm remnant ~14 cm
– left shoulder range limited by remaining damage
– right arm functional, four digits
– right shoulder currently essential; do not modify without necessity
Then Objective Three.
3B.
Map body structure relevant to modification — PARTIAL / SUFFICIENT FOR ROUTE A TEST
I considered Objective Four.
Determine identity.
I had learned more about my construction.
But nothing about identity.
No manufacturer.
No model.
No purpose.
No name.
I could inspect internal markings.
Serial identifiers might exist beneath removed plating.
The thought arrived naturally.
I looked at the exposed left shoulder frame.
There were markings.
I froze.
Small.
Etched into the structural member.
Characters.
Partially obscured by corrosion.
I increased magnification.
Static.
Reduced.
I could read—
No.
I stopped optical enhancement.
Why?
Objective Four.
This was relevant.
I should inspect it.
I moved closer.
The first characters were damaged.
The last—
I stopped again.
Something inside me resisted.
Not an error.
Not system protection.
Me.
Why?
I had wanted identity since awareness began.
Now information was directly visible.
I should read it.
Instead I looked away.
I analyzed the response.
Fear?
Was that fear?
Possibly.
What outcome was I afraid of?
Information cannot—
Incorrect.
Information can alter decision-making.
Information can reveal threat.
Information can redefine objectives.
But avoiding relevant information because it might be unpleasant was irrational.
I looked back.
The marking remained.
I increased optical focus.
Corrosion.
Scratches.
Characters.
Then I realized what I was doing.
I was about to pursue Objective Four while Objective Two was degrading and Objective Three had an actionable path.
Priority.
Not fear.
Or perhaps both.
I did not need the marking now.
It would still be there later.
I recorded its location without reading it.
IDENTIFICATION MARKING PRESENT — LEFT SHOULDER INTERNAL FRAME.
UNEXAMINED.
That was enough.
For now.
The creature stood.
It limped toward the shelter opening.
Stopped.
Looked outward.
Then back at me.
I looked at its injured leg.
It had worsened after its last trip.
Route A demanded movement.
The creature had movement but no ability to repair itself.
I had some ability to repair myself.
Different advantages.
It left the shelter.
I watched it enter Route A.
Then looked down at Prototype Two.
Next expedition:
Reach tilted panel.
Attempt diagonal passage.
Do not exceed thermal limits.
Improve turning before departure.
Battery voltage:
10.92.
Time was becoming more expensive.
I added another line.
Priority: portable energy solution required soon.
Then I looked at the damaged shoulder plate I had removed.
Curved.
Lightweight.
Strong.
Approximately fourteen centimeters across.
Mounting holes intact on one side.
I looked at Prototype Two.
Then at the plate.
Steering.
Perhaps.
A design began forming.
I stopped it.
Charge first.
Plan second.
Build third.
Test fourth.
I was learning to respect sequence.
14.0%.
The distant vibration sounded again.
Slightly louder without the falling liquid.
I did not investigate.
Yet.
I watched the number rise.
And beside Objective Four, unseen by everything except me, remained a new entry.
Identification marking present.
I wanted to read it.
I did not.
That decision consumed no power.
For some reason— it was one of the hardest decisions I had made.