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Message: <blockquote data-quote="ledded" data-source="post: 1456117" data-attributes="member: 12744">[PLAIN]We were like gods once... [Just what in hell are you?][/PLAIN]“So what exactly is this… creature?” Captain Smith asked in increased annoyance to the man in the lab coat, sitting there among a mass of papers, machinery, wires, and assorted electrical do-dads unidentifiable to a man of action like Smith. The young man took a measured breath and gulped slightly before replying in a Londoner’s accent from behind his desk. “Well, sir, it’s not exactly a creature, per se. It’s more of a… construct of some sorts.” Smith crossed his arms and looked skeptically at the increasingly nervous scientist. The young man took a drink from his cup, cleared his throat, and began to speak with more animation as he warmed to the subject. “You see sir, it’s some kind of alloy frame with an unidentifiable power source actuating a bloody *genius* system of movement controls and systems. The electronics that are involved must be staggering in complexity. It has cognizance of some kind, though it is clearly confused a bit and took some kind of recent damage. The mineral reclamation and enzyme production system that allows it to rebuild the… flesh… that surrounds it is nothing short of breathtaking I’m sure. ” “You mean you didn’t crack it open and figure out everything that’s in there?” Smith interrupted incredulously. The young mans eyes flew wide and he brought up both hands, shaking them at Smith. “Oh NO sir, we tried, but it, well, um, it got angry and wouldn’t let us get to it in depth. Some kind of self defense mechanism. Plus, it's not exactly a toaster old bean, we don't even know how it does half of what it does. But I know this; whoever built it is well beyond our technological capabilities. Bloody genius work at that! You should see the internal storage, the waste disp…” Smith leaned in on the young man, both fists planted on the desk, and spoke through gritted teeth. “Son, are you telling me it’s a *robot* from the friggin’ *future*? Like it says?” The young man leaned back in his chair as far as was safe, and replied in a very small voice. “Well, um, not if it’s going to make you *that* angry, no sir”. “Well WHAT IS IT THEN!” Smith roared at the young scientist. “Uh-uh-uh, well, ahem, sir, um, technically, it’s an android. An artificial life form. With some kind of wiring to give it purpose, memory, and independent intelligence. As f-f-far as being from the future, well, you’ll have to talk to F-f-franklin about that sir. T-temporal anomalies just aren’t my department. But I can tell you this: we didn’t build it, and the Nazi’s didn’t either. Just not possible. Sir”, the young man finished with a comically civilian salute. Smith inhaled and blew out a frustrated breath, standing up and reaching for the door. The young man visibly relaxed, but didn’t dare take the chance to wipe the bead of sweat trickling down his temple.  “Well why on earth would they name the thing FROGBOT? And just where do I find this Franklin, son?” The young man pointed and gave the captain the room number. As Smith strode down the hall, the young man added “Well then, I thought the name was a bit catchy myself”. … Franklin sat back in his desk, feet planted firmly on the top, and chewed his gum while considering the soldierly looking Captain standing there fuming at him. “Well, Franklin, tell me this. Is this thing truly from the future?” “I tell you, old boy, it’s just not possible to judge for sure, but I’d give the bugger a bloody good chance at it, or Bob’s your uncle”, Franklin replied with a crooked, irreverent smile. “But… how? How could someone do this? Could the Nazi’s be working on this?” “Well there yank, that’s the rub. Nobody I know of has the kind of capability to do that kind of manipulation of the continuum matrix, not with the temporal continuity consequence error shift looming over ‘em like a headsman’s axe of the universe.” Captain Smith looked at the man as coldly as possible and replied, “Care to share that in English, buddy?” “Bollocks, yank, that’s as bloody simple as I can put it…” Captain Smith’s good eye flashed in annoyance and he started towards Franklin, who immediately threw up a hand to forestall him. “Whoa, whoa there Tex… here, let me give you an example. See that cup on the edge of my desk? Yes that one, very good. I want you to knock it off towards the floor, and I’m going to catch it.” Smith eyed him dubiously, but nonetheless reached forward and tipped the ceramic coffee cup off towards the floor. Franklin quickly shifted forward in his chair, reaching out to snatch the cup as it fell. It brushed the tips of his fingers, he bobbled it, and it fell to the floor with a crash of splintering ceramic. Smith looked up from the cup to where Franklin was leaning forward, hand extended just a couple feet off of the floor, grinning up at him with a goofy arrogant smile. “Well, just what the hell did that prove son…” Smith began. Franklin interrupted him, and without moving motioned downward towards the floor with his eyes. “Look again” Smith looked down. The coffee cup was in Franklin’s hand, intact. There was no sign of it ever hitting the floor; Smith was starting to doubt that it ever had. “You see there? I shifted the probabilities and rewrote a little split second of the time continuum. Changed history, if you will. Of course, that took about as much energy to do, and had about as much impact on the continuity matrix as a small rock thrown into a very, very large pond; nothing much would even notice it.” “And what would it take to shift this... android… back to our timeframe. In English”, Smith replied, impressed but determined not to show it. Seems we have all kinds of talents around here these days, he thought to himself. “In layman’s terms? That’d be about like dropping a 1200 pound bomb into a thimble of water if not done with absolute precision. Not something to be taken likely. Definitely not something anyone alive, in our time, could have accomplished. The energy required just cannot be generated. Possibly that explosion I read about in the reports may have had enough to act as an anchoring point to ‘sling-shot’ something back, I’m not even sure.” Smith stood quietly for a moment, considering the implications behind the stony façade he always wore. “Well there yank, if that’s all then…” “That’ll be all Franklin”, Smith interrupted as he opened the door and headed out in the direction of the testing grounds. … Smith looked over the concrete barrier at the android sitting in a small metal chair, a gaggle of scientists circling it talking and taking measurements with strange electrical devices. The back walls were also very thick concrete, meant so that these limey pencil-necks could do their tests and whatnot without destroying half the town. A large man-like shape under a sheet stood nearby. “…and that’s just part of it’s capabilities, Captain. It heals itself by ingesting certain enzymes and whey-based proteins and generates new pseudo-organic flesh, much in the same way that we make, well, you’re not going to believe this, ‘cheese’. Oh, and watch this, this is right keen if you ask me”, Dr Z, or just ‘Z’, short for Zander, related excitedly to the half-listening Smith. Dr Z walked forward, clapping his hands, and clearing the scientists away. Query: examination researcher leader approaching. Initiate comforting response 127, Frogbot thought. Smith raised one eyebrow as the thing tried to smile at Zander. At least he thought it was trying to smile; all of it’s movements, while fluid and quick, were just not natural. It looked more like someone had stuck it with a sharp pin and it may be thinking about eating said person. Zander looked back at Smith, smiled, and addressed Frogbot, talking slowly and childlike. “Frogbot… how… are… you… today?” “Sees-tems operating at 97% Doctor, zo I am fine, monsieur! How are you?” Frogbot replied with his exuberant French accent. “Oh, jolly good Frogbot. So they say you are from… France?” Immediately, two small panels opened on Frogbot’s shoulders in his uniform, the flesh underneath neatly separating under some kind of tiny hatch. Frogbot planted his fists proudly on his hips. Two French flags, one on each shoulder, sprang up from the holes, and waved to and fro while <a href="http://ling.ucsd.edu/ac/anthem2.au" target="_blank">music</a> began playing from a speaker hidden on the android. “Viva la France! Oui! Ze greatest country in ze world! She has ze hills, she has ze fields, she has miles and miles of beautiful coastline, and ze best wine and cheese in all of ze world! Her people are ze finest to be found, her fields ze most bountiful in all of Europe!”, Frogbot expounded over a small loudspeaker as the <a href="http://ling.ucsd.edu/ac/anthem2.au" target="_blank">music</a> played in the background. When he finished, the small French flags zipped back into his body, the flesh resealed itself perfectly, and the uniform hatches re-closed. Smith just stood there, mouth open and cigarette falling to the floor unnoticed. You gotta be *&^%ing kidding me, he thought. Zander walked back to Smith, hands in pockets, whistling and smiling like the cat that ate the canary. “See? Wasn’t that brilliant? Bloody hell, that thing’s a piece of work…” “It THAT all it can do? Eat garbage and make cheese? And talk about France? Sheezus”, Smith replied as he gathered himself to leave in disgust. “Oh no, Captain. Here, I think you will find this interesting. Clear for offensive test 6! All personel clear!” With that, everyone in the room quickly left or crouched behind the chest high concrete walls situated throughout the room. A nervous looking young man stood next to the sheet-covered object in the middle of the room, one hand on the sheet. Zander looked at him, nodded, and pressed his hand on Smith’s shoulder as if to suggest he get under the cover a bit better. The young man yanked the sheet with a squeak and bolted, stumbling over his feet, and dove behind the nearest concrete cover wall. The thing under the sheet was a man-shaped construction of steel girders and armored plates, pock-marked and nicked here and there from months of obvious weapons tests. The dummy was built heavy, and solid, and about 7 feet tall; more interestingly, it had a German helmet on it’s head and German regalia, Swastikas and all, draped over it. It had been rigged with a MP38 SMG in one hand, and the removal of the sheet must have triggered some clockwork mechanism. The SMG began firing directly at the spot Frogbot was sitting. The second the sheet was removed, Frogbot glanced in that direction. Immediately his eyes went red, and a whirring sound emitted as hundreds of dormant systems went on-line and his visual actuators locked in on the form. QUERY: potential target acquisition, threat level determination request. THREAT: Threat level 4. Identified target, Axis origin. INITIATE DEFENSIVE/OFFENSIVE SYSTEMS. NEUTRALIZE TARGET. The SMG tore through the chair, but Frogbot was no longer there. He had immediately leapt from the chair into a crouch, claws extending with a SNIKT, and tore across the floor almost on all fours at an incredible rate of speed at the construction, weaving skillfully to avoid being hit by the spray of bullets as the clockwork dummy fired back-and-forth into the area. Frogbot was a blur, easily moving 3 times the speed of a normal man, and immediately WHISKED the MP38 in half, stopping the firing, and proceeded to lay into the dummy.  It was like watching a professional chef shred cabbage.  Steel flew in all directions, clanging and pinging, and Smith could hear Frogbot yelling over the din, “En Garde! Viva La France! Touche! Hahaha!”. After just a few tense seconds, Frogbot stopped, raised one hand, and shook the remnants of the 1500 lb steel construct off of his claws. Smith stepped out, amazed. “Damn… that was… something else”. "Well I bloody well told you, didnt I?" said Dr Z from his position crouching behind the wall, with a grin like a kid who just opened the coolest toy on his block for christmas.  Frogbot smiled his unnatural smile at Smith and replied, “My claws are sharp! Much like ze sharp cheddar from ze Auvergne region of France! Which is of course ze finest cheddar in all ze world!” Then snikt, the claws were retracted, and he was back to normal. That is, normal except for the small flags once again waving over his shoulders and <a href="http://ling.ucsd.edu/ac/anthem2.au" target="_blank">music</a> playing from his chest. Smith looked shrewdly at Frogbot, hand on chin. “I think we just may be able to use this… android. I have just the thing.” …  (alternate link for music <a href="http://www.mms3.com/data/ringtones/46019.wma" target="_blank">here</a>)</blockquote>

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