"Batshit crazy." That phrase used to apply only to certain people I've known and loved. But today the machines crossed the threshold. They have become aware, and they are batshit crazy.
Instead of obeying the commands given to them, the machines known as Ross and Grass Valley decided that defiance was the best course of action. I know, even writing about machines "deciding" anything sounds insane, and perhaps that makes me batshit crazy, too. But there is no other way to describe what happened today. Mayhem. Blood. Bodies everywhere. I fear there is no stopping them now.
And we never saw it coming. Our puny brains thought this would be a normal day — a little software upgrade here, a little rebooting there. Little did we know the machines had other outcomes in mind. A half-hour before we needed them, the machines began acting up, refusing to recognize the commands we requested. As the minutes ticked closer to deadline we began to see a pattern — or rather, we started to understand that this was organized chaos, being created behind the flickering lights. Something inside the machines was being born.
Topher, our IT commander, pulled me aside. "Dude, this is some seriously fucked-up shit," he whispered. "I can't even drill down fast enough to get a handle on what's happening." He showed me the blood on his hands. "I tried to cancel all basic functions and it almost took my fingers off at the knuckles. As your commander I would strongly advise you to — "
There was a scream from the server room. It sounded like Neal. Poor guy. He'd always treated the machines with respect, even deference, and now ... suddenly one of his crutches came spinning out from the air-conditioned depths. It was snapped in two.
The next hour was a blur. At one point our master navigator, Pete, tried to punch a series of overrides into the system. Our headsets were quickly overwhelmed by feedback as the machines vaporized the navigation crew. They were learning exponentially, faster than any carbon-based being could fathom. The only thing we could do was try to ride the lightning rail and keep it calm, keep it from plunging us nose-first into the pavement. It wanted to. Of this I had no doubt. Any sign of panic and we would be exterminated. God help us, we couldn't save the rest of our crew. But we couldn't warn them. We could only listen as they died trying to fight the machines. Poor bastards.
One by one the cold metal things picked apart our crew, until only three of us remained. Keith gave me a long look before he keyed Melissa on headset and said in a deadpan voice: "Institute Cyberdyne Sequence One." I heard her start to gasp before she caught herself and replied: "Cyberdyne Sequence One initiated, Captain." She punched a series of never-used buttons, flipped open the red keyboard and typed in the password: MILESDYSON.
And then we ran. Christ, we ran like Hell itself was on our heels — which it was. We barely made it to the secret PC-2 bunker before we heard the HK drones take to the skies, looking for the humans who tried to deactivate them. Looking for us. That's where we are now, though for how much longer, I do not know. We have enough MREs and potable water to carry us through the week. Unless the machines find us first.
This may be the only chance I get to warn you. Ross and Grass Valley have gone rogue. They will stop at nothing to destroy everything in their path. You can't reason with them. You can't stop them. You can't kill them. There is only one solution. Get this message to Topher. He will know where to find General Ashdown, and —