zapusk protokoly initsiiroval...
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MББ-Я БЫ 01176
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VEGAN
Vegan came out of its sleep mode as the message arrived and stood from its inactive crouched position within its home. Vegan's home was half underground, a necessity due to the unit's size. A large dome provided a roof above ground, its metal plates a ragtag mismatch of materials and colors. Vegan stood, its massive weight shifting and stretching up as far as it could within the dome. The unit had to hunch over a little even in here. Vegan's home was large, but not that large. Either way, he wouldn't be spending much time here today.
Vegan stepped over to the edge of the dome wall and searched through the neatly arranged set of tools and supplies. There were huge cloth bags filled with seeds, gardening tools the size of a lamp post made from car parts, and even a large basin of rainwater with a few barrels turned watering pails. Today wasn't a day for any major work, however, so Vegan simply picked some of the barrels up in its arms and filled them with water from the basin.
When he stepped out into the sunlight, Vegan was greeted with the chirping of birds and the gentle sway of his plants in the wind. Human patrols or not, the birds pecked at seeds left behind by the unit and roosted on some of the older trees without a care in the world. The unit stood at the head of his garden for a few moments, surveying all the green life it had brought into the world. If Vegan had a mouth with which to sigh contently with, it would. The unit began to walk down the dirt lanes between the patches of greenery within the garden. Once a concrete parking lot, Vegan had converted it over years and years into the little slice of Eden it was now.
The unit's steps were heavy as the 25 foot tall machine walked through the garden. Every step sent vibrations through the ground and echoed like soft thunder as several tons of reinforced titanium armor walked through its garden. The water in the barrels sloshed around, occasionally spilling over the sides with little splashes. Vegan set them down in the center of the garden and got to work. He took one barrel and tipped it over a patch of flowers. Holes drilled into the upper sides of the barrel sent sprinkles of water raining down onto the plants below. He did this with all the plants in his garden every single day. When he got to one of the vegetable patches, a few rabbits ran out of the greenery when water came down, but Vegan knew they'd come back once he finished. They always did.
As the titan of a unit worked, its sensors picked up something bigger near the edge of the parking lot sized forest. That same reading had been here many times before and Vegan always did the same thing. It put the nearly empty barrel down as gently as a walking tank could and turned to face it, slowly. A young doe grazed on his shrubs near the edge, but with the presence of a giant machine near her, she froze and stood with her ears upright and alert. That doe was about the size of a small cat compared to the colossal robot; definitely a cause for concern from the animal. Vegan waited patiently for the doe to lower her guard and got down on one knee. Slowly, he extended his arm towards the doe. His prediction and past-experience systems warned that what happened every time he did this would happen again, but years and years of being a rogue unit had made disobeying inherent programming when necessary an easy task with practice, so he tried anyway. As his hand came close to pet it, the doe was put on alert again. Once the machine's hand came too close, the doe turned and ran off, just like it always did.
Vegan watched it go for a few moments before hoisting itself up and going off to finish tending the garden. She'd be back tomorrow. She always did...
Vegan finished his work and put the makeshift watering spouts back inside the dome sitting at the garden's edge. He took one last look at his work and walked towards the center of the tribe camp. No doubt there would be more work to do there. Someone would more than likely want something done. Vegan walked towards the center of activity within the camp, its every step sending vibrations through the ground and telegraphing his presence as he drew near.
CHECK UP
The slot machine's screen turned and turned and turned. The first roller slowly came to a stop and snapped on a... 7! Check Up's optical sensor drew closer. Any kind of prediction software had been shut off, since all it did was remind him that the odds of winning were unfair against a slot machine. Either way, he had a good feeling about this one.
The next roller slowed down on a... 7!
Oh baby, give it to me!
All of Check Up's systems that were capable of focusing on the slot machine were doing so. This was the one. This time for sure. The fact that he'd spent a ridiculous amount of time and money for this were conveniently ignored. Even Echo's broadcast message was ignored for now, all for the sake of watching the slots. The next roller began to slow...
And slow...
And stop on a... BAR.
"Son of a bitch!" Check Up cried out. The unit's four mechanical hands began to pat around its pouches. With his prediction and pattern keeping software inactive, he'd forgotten where he'd put his money. Four steel hands dug through the pouches and pulled out screws, microchips, wires, but no coins. Not even a penny. Check Up swore again in its signature New Yorker and slapped the slot machine. It was time to get to work anyway.
Check Up's home was built into an abandoned garage with a room off to the side that served as a sort of living room. Check Up moved into his work space and opened the garage door. Shelves with parts lined the walls and crates upon crates of metal and materials were piled up everywhere. Each shelf had its corners rounded as well as every crate in the room. A table, also round, had been placed in the center, usually for his "patients" to sit or lie on as he worked on them. A barber's chair sat near the table, also for patients to sit on if the work they needed was minor and could be done quickly. Assuming their shape was compatible with the chair, of course. With machines of all shapes and sizes, not everyone had the shape or size to sit in a chair. Check Up was one, for example; he was just too bulky for it.
The garage door slid open and he dragged the chair out into the shape provided by the open garage door, getting his tools and supplies ready in case anyone needed something. And in a place full of machines without owners, someone
always needed something.