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"I know not what to do." the inquisitor said aloud. Expanding beyond his comprehension spread the overwhelming complexities of the world. The struggles of every citizen, the agendas of every politician, all interweaving to create an inexorable maelstrom in which he was but an imperceptible part.
He fancied he heard a sigh from within the machine sitting beside him. A breath of despair from the mechanical lungs of a being once just as human as he, now suspended in an automation between life and death. KgM110's cold circuits began to articulate.
"Go home. Hug your wife. Dine with your children. Be to the world the man you wish to be to them. Make not my mistake. Do not sacrifice that which you love for that which you think you must do, lest you become nothing more."
Within the electronic speech reverberated a paralyzing sorrow which pressed upon the inquisitor as powerfully as a wave pushed by the ocean. With a sudden clarity in his heart, he turned to his companion.
"Who were you? Before." The machine paused before responding.
"I was once called Tim. But he squandered his life. Now go live yours."
As the wars drew to a close, many Kriegsmaschines were reassigned to bolster the ranks of the secret police. Officers could now discharge their duties with added force and protection, and the presence of these mechanized soldiers was expected to add a degree of accountability to the officers' discretion. However, the initiative did have its critics who were concerned that the more peaceful setting could lead to unexpected changes in the behavior of the mechanical men.
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Submitted on
November 15, 2017