Humanoids sat behind V-shaped wheels that guided high powered machines, which traveled through the town of Ripley and tore it and its people asunder. The vehicles were tall with multiple cylinders like wheels that had spinning spikes on them tearing up concrete wherever they roamed. Humanoid soldiers 6 foot 4 in height with long arms and jagged black legs ran through city and neighborhood streets with nets dragging large amounts of people in them over the pavement. They did this in pairs and others in groups as if catching fish. People screamed, some tumbled about and moaned, while others in the nets seemed unconscious, resolved to give in, or dead.

Small fires could be seen taking place in homes and gun shots were heard in the distance. Three teens ran around the backside of a garage as quietly as they could without a parent in tow. Few animals were heard barking for long before there was a sound of whimpering and a cry of death piercing the air like a knife. Above in the skies, large drones flew about with the noise of giant mosquitoes surveying the action, entering homes and businesses by breaking through windows, and a few sent out lasers to disable manned vehicles and then killing their drivers as they attempted to escape.

At the home of John Woods, he was anxiously packing guns and ammo into a bag and his wife stuffed clothes into her own bag.

"John, where we are going to go? There's no place left now."

"We are going to head to the Galatia, it's our last hope. We will build a refuge there."

"Oh John!" she stopped, tossing down the garment in her hand, and turned to face him, "We can't survive out there! The kids will freeze to death. They got no meat on their bones! For heaven's sakes, we'll all starve, how are we are going to-"

"Sarah, there's no time argue," John interrupted firmly, "We have to move, or we are going to be killed!"

John zipped his bag and Sarah looked down and returned to her bag seeing her two children now standing at the doorway of their bedroom with their backpacks on. John turned to see them as well.

"Good kids, you ready?" Mr. Woods asked firmly.

"Yes, daddy," they say softly in unison. He looked back at his wife who takes a deep a breath and zips up her bag. "You are right. Let's go. Better to deal with Galatia then die here."

John took ahold of her hand, and they all exited the room for the garage with concern and a purpose on their faces.

Humanoid Military Outpost--The Border of Galatia

A very thing, rather gangly robot, enter through a closed door of high ranking general. The General, a humanoid, sat behind desk while manipulating live feeds being projected midair, maps, and battle projections. The General hadn't even seemed to notice that anyone had come into the room and when the robot began speaking that didn't change.

"General, sir, Vincent G220, is here. Should I send it in?"

"What I need you to send in here," the General said in a frustrated tone, "Who I need you to get me is the other three Generals because this blasted blizzard isn't allowing us any head way at all." The General wiped away all the images with an angry wave of his hand and swiveled in his chair, grabbing the top of his fake hair.

"I can do that now sir and would you like me to send Vincent back to the barracks or to the stockade?"

The General squinted, "Who? Oh, yes. Send him in, this won't take a moment."

"Yes, sir," saluted the robot with a flimsy hand turning away.

"And get the other Generals over here even if they are on the field doing exercises right now, we gotta get this better organized!" The General shouted.

"Yes, sir!" the robot said and turned to the side, "Vincent, you may go in now." Vincent G220 with brown hair and big blue eyes came in carrying a military cap in his hand like he was attending a funeral. The General spun around in his chair and puckered his lips as he sized him over. Then with a sigh, he invited the lieutenant to have a seat.

"Sir, if I may say from the outset, that I believe if you look at my record, it speaks for itself. I serve Acropolis loyally and faithfully and I am behind the war efforts 100% despite what anyone suggests to the contrary."

The General lifted a hand to stop the humanoid, "Vincent, that is not in question. Has any one of your superior commanders accused you of that?"

"No, sir, but then why am I being held in the stockade? Is that not a place for prisoners, the disobedient, and traitors?"

The General snickered and shook his head, "It was for your protection. We needed to separate you from your company because tensions were high. Your methods are...unorthodox."

"Unorthodox? How so? I understand my fellow team members are complaining about me holding up progress about the legal ramifications I bring up."

"Yes, and your files to the courts and your refusal to do certain things because-"

"Because they are against the laws that govern humanoid and humankind. I understand we are at war but-"

"No, Vincent, you don't understand," the General leaned forward lifting a hand, "War is a messy business and in the midst of battle, you can't bring out a legal brief and start issuing citations. It just doesn't work that way. You are creating too many hurdles in your unit and in this outfit."

"I seriously do not understand this logic," Vincent mumbled looking away from the General.

"I know and that is why we are sending you to serve with the Chancery in Acropolis," the General took a piece a paper on his desk with a stamp on it and slid it in his direction, "you will do much better there. You can practice the laws you know so well where it serves the public best. Let us handle the war."

Vincent was astonished at what sounded like a promotion as his eyes dared to look down on the paper momentarily.

"Don't be so shocked. You are asset, you just are not in the right outfit. Your gifts are better used in the legal arena."

"So," Vincent cleared his throat, "then when would I leave for this new assignment?"

"Widget! Get a bullet brought here ASAP!"

"Yes, sir, on it! And the Generals are arriving."

"You're leaving tonight."

A Decade Later

Vincent was sped along one of Acropolis’ superhighways in a black craft shaped in the form of a giant bullet. Hands folded as though he were praying and looking out the backseat window, the humanoid's ocean blue eyes blinked like two puddles in soft rain. He brought his palms down to his thighs and watched the city buildings blur together into a psychedelic rainbow as they drove down the air highway. The lights from other flying vehicles streaked across the night’s dark canvas. The colors before his eyes seemed brighter today. The city beckoned him to exact just judgement in accordance with the law of humanoid kind and once again he would do the duty he was programmed to do. It felt right and that give his sensors a buzz, a certain hum that certainly must be similar to what humans defined as delight. He was part human synthetically speaking, and part robot, so he could only speculate on a human experience. Humans were far, far lower and dangerous creatures, but he did secretly envy their ability to experience sensory delights.

Vincent gave a small frown as he looked at the barcode on the top of his right hand. It identified his model number to the scanners throughout the quadrant, #G220. He never liked this mark that interrupted the perfection of his skin, but it was a necessary sacrifice to distinguish humanoid from human. This was without question. The humanoid took a glance at himself in the rear-view mirror. He had chosen to keep his hair feathered back and light brown for the season. He could change the style and color by a simple wink to an internal program and he debated briefly whether a darker color might be suitable. However, he thought the better of it. Then he became suddenly unsure about his nose. For the first time, he noticed that he had picked a slightly too small of one. Should he bother? Would anyone really care in the grand scheme of all the cases seen today? He looked once more in the mirror. He wasn’t happy with it. So, with a few internal winks to certain hardware programs, he changed his nose length and size in a matter of seconds. With a quick wrinkle of the appendage up and down, the new nose settled right in place. Done. He was content--at least, for the moment. Small changes like this were permissible and easy while larger facial reconstructions required higher level permission fand could be more taxing on the system--in some cases causing temporary blindness.

Vincent’s government-provided vehicle drove itself to the intended destination--The Grand Inquisitor Hotel. Acropolis’ city buildings went from tall, spiked architecture to smaller rounded buildings as they reached the downtown area. It was theorized that these taller outer buildings acted as a shield to the government buildings nestled deep in the center of Acropolis. It was a magnificent display of metal, colors and creative architecture beyond compare anywhere else in the quadrants. The tall humanoid whose head was only about one inch from the car ceiling leaned forward as the vehicle approached the towering Grand Inquisitor living quarters. It was a tightly secured lodging facility and reserved for high level government employees only. It stood as a black monolith looming over the Supreme Chancery. As the Chancery was wide and long in scope, the Inquisitor was in height. Vincent’s black chariot penetrated a dark opening just before one of several grand staircases and flew down the tunnel to the parking garage.

The black capsule speedily docked itself to the nearest platform under ground level. Vincent was never connected to the importance of his role as Court Report Interpreter more than he was with this most noteworthy case. In rare cases, trials took place for humanoid disobedience or the fine nuances of law in an ever-changing world; however, the Chancery was by and large put in place for the trial of humans as well as human sympathizers. The procedure of law and the display of enacting justice was something only a certain branch of humanoids took interest in but those who did worshipped more than anything else. Though theoretically humanoids could operate their duties in the courts without ever saying a word to each other, they loved discussing and finding violations of the law to show who knew the law best. This particular trial would be one for the record books because of the intricacies of the defendant being much more human than robot.

As he thought about this, he wrapped the palm of his right hand around his neck massaging it softly for a moment. He was somewhat embarrassed by the onset of recurring tension in his neck that was more frequent as of late. They were episodic in nature and felt like his neck muscles had suddenly grown stiff with age and undo stress. He could feel the fluid exchange fibers pulsating in his neck when it came on. It was a reaction in his system he did not understand. Any form of stress on their systems was taken care of by stress regulators that were superior to adrenal glands in humans. By and large, humanoids did not feel. Not that they did not have the capacity for some low-level emotion but nothing terribly noticeable. Anything more would be considered a sign of weakness. However, there were rumors that the humanoid race had evolved in their ability to feel and emote much more than say a hundred years ago. Systems within humanoids were creating their own systems. To what extent they were undergoing such an evolution was impossible to know but it was both exciting and frightening all at the same time. The government of Acropolis kept such things under a shroud of darkness and fog. The debate itself was something reserved to the elite and those in far out laying quadrants, far away from the all-seeing eye of Acropolis.

Vincent supported the government's role of slapping down the hands that reached for the chalice of fantastical ideas about evolutions, especially those that were human like in nature. This unnecessary exaltation of humans resulted in the creation of underground labs where those who worshipped humans bred human fetuses with humanoid programming. They also worked on adults in freakish experiments of giving humanoids an excessive number of human parts. How could anyone worship a species that had nearly destroyed the planet and could no longer be trusted? Human systems were remarkably complex but fragile, and their egos and emotions over-ruled the better part of themselves, destroying everything good in their path. No, it was best that humanity be eliminated and not somehow emulated to only one day bring the Earth to edge of destruction once again. Hybrids certainly were not the answer but rather an insult to what his race knew to be good and right.

Upon exiting the vehicle, Vincent noted a download dumped in his data bank that had come off a government news channel. The file was entitled “Is this the end of the Galatian stand-off?”. He slowed his stride on the metal docking bay and opened the file. He saw the vision of a humanoid news anchorwoman floating before him in mid-air. There was a floating image near her head of a man in mechanized locks around his wrists and ankles. A man of similar stature as he, and in hair and eye color but everything else about him, Vincent knew, was totally different. For one thing, he was no ordinary man. Indeed, he wasn’t even an ordinary prisoner. This was the governor of one of the last remaining outposts of human congregates, Governor John Woods. He was from the frozen area known as Galatia and Vincent was assigned to his case.

What Vincent knew of Governor John Woods was more than most. Woods was a controversial leader over one of the last remaining tribes of humans in the Arctic territory of Galatia. He was said to be one of the last remaining hybrids, no less. There was no known hybrid who had risen to such ranks among humans so this in itself was quite an amazing feat. The Galatians lived under almost constant blizzard like conditions. This made operations nearly impossible for the military of Acropolis. The humans there were deeply entrenched there and had decades of survival skills that gave them the advantage over Acropolis’ military force. Nevertheless, Governor Woods was now not only one of the last remaining pillars of strong leadership for human resistance in the North but also last of the hybrid race. The last living betrayal toward the humanoid race and he was here. Betrayed by his own kind and to be put on trial.

If there was one thing humans and humanoids shared it was a distaste for these self-proclaimed hybrids. It was a sick irony that any humanoid would worship any human let alone being a part of a movement of creating hybrids. It was a horror that made no sense to the superior logic that ruled Vincent’s thoughts. Humans themselves were low level, fleshy computers, but programmable nonetheless..and still why? Why commune oneself with such problematic programming as human systems were? After much trial and error which produced some truly horrid abortions and miscarriages, the technology of these human worshippers soon had a very short spell of a fairly reliable process of hybrid reproduction. The underground labs themselves were built where Acropolis never imagined looking for a betrayal of this magnitude--right under their nose in the downtown area. The government of Acropolis never imagined betrayal by a race born and bred within its own laws. The government had been caught with their pants down. Nevertheless, once this minority of hybrids became large enough to be noticeable a threat, this movement was uprooted, and secret labs were demolished. Hybrids were hunted down with a fierceness like never seen before. The government was willing to take down an entire building of innocents to destroy one hybrid. Humanoids were easily replicated so it just made sense to eliminate the threat to humanoid kind. We were expendable in that cause.

Though this kind of extermination was debated as to its legal grounds, the government went on undeterred by the opposition. However, exterminating humans themselves was not such an easy matter unless in times of war initiated by them. The older foundational laws of society were indisputable and part of that required fair trials for humans. Security protocols around some of these older laws--crafted during a time when humanoids were more sympathetic to humans--were virtually impossible to erase. Once the human contingent, their sympathizers and especially hybrids were eliminated, Vincent hoped peace would reign once again in Acropolis.

Governor Woods was a controversial leader, even among the humans he served. Self-proclaimed hybrids such as him hadn’t only upset the data carts of humanoids alone: Humans had a hard time trusting a hybrid as well. It was well known that had been turned over to the Supreme Chancery by his own kind--a real first in the history of the war. This development generated not only a lot of public interest in the trial but a most unusual result: an alliance. See, a band of five mutinous humans who turned the Governor into the courts would not only be permitted to view the trial but would testify on the side of the prosecution! The Governor was doomed! It was clear they had hoped for some in-road to a truce with the Acropolis while also perhaps making an example of him to their own people. Even more fantastic to Vincent was the rumor that these five mutineers may soon act as special envoys for some kind of humanoid/human relations “in order to keep the peace”. If the humans believed this, they would be bigger fools than they already had made themselves out to be. The city of Acropolis would never give human beings such a role when they were only a few crushing blows away from crushing humanity out completely. Nevertheless, humans were often fools, easily swayed by things like hope, and other inflated notions of thought generated by their primitive emotions.

Fools, Vincent concluded.

There were no hordes of news drones hovering about to greet Vincent on the platform by jabbing him with their metal microphones to get a statement. It was a quiet disappointment. He wouldn’t admit it verbally, but Vincent had hoped for the media attention. Yet, the fervent questioning and demands for statements coming forth from news drones could have been exhausting, he reasoned to himself. He had seen it before; their mechanical, repetitive questioning was eerily reminiscent of a dirty, amputated, pull- string doll that he had seen back in the war. He had been assigned to reconstruction duties which required them to clean out any trace of humanity after a battle. The broken doll with coarse hair dangled like a set of broken springs as she sat in a pile of rubble from a demolished human domicile. With her head tilted to one side and dirty smudges branded on her cheeks, she sat there saying repeatedly “Feed me, mommy. I’m hungry!”. It was annoyingly, hauntingly repetitious in the same manner news drones often behaved in repeating the same question over and over until they got their answer or were out of reach.

Vincent made his way off the departure docking station and checked in at the Express Reservation Desk manned by an older model droid. The Reservation droid was redone with gold plating and shined brilliantly among the colors of maroon floor and black walls. It moved behind its small desk with quick, accurate movements, handling the line up of multiple government clients and envoys as though it were on an assembly line. It showed no confusion or fatigue. Way too quick for Vincent to be able to see any humanness in its eyes. After check-in, Vincent entered an elevation tube where, business suit and all, he was jettisoned with a burst of air upward to the floor of his room. He didn’t particularly enjoy the feeling of the suction pulling on his skin but always appreciated speed and efficiency. The humanoid walked out of the tube on floor 40, readjusted his suit jacket and grip on his briefcase and walked toward his room. He walked down the hallway carpeted in the same colors as all government buildings--orange, maroon, and pale yellow. The entire floor, stretching out longer than his eyes could see, was eerily quiet; so much so that he could hear the brushing of his gray suit pants and jacket against the rest of him. Vincent entered room 71a, and stood stationary within the dark as if to digest some sense of its undisturbed nature. It was a pause before what would no doubt be intense proceedings that could last several days.

“Lights, low level,” Vincent said watching the lights come on as softly as he had spoken the request.

“Welcome Vincent. It is good to have you back in the city again.”

“Thank you Ava, it has been some time.”

“Thank you for your service to the Republic today, Vincent,” the woman’s voice said as if reuniting with a long lost friend, “I hope your arrival was beyond satisfactory?”

“As always, Ava,” Vincent said non-enthusiastically and placed the briefcase on the low standing dresser.

The tall, lean humanoid in his black suit walked over to the far opposite end of the room and waved his hand over a small scanning mechanism that sat on an end table next to a tiffany style lamp with holographic shade that subtly changed colors like a kaleidoscope on slow motion. When the scanner recognized his hand pattern, part of a wall folded itself up like a tiled jigsaw puzzle and formed into a frame and sliding a glass through making a large window. Outside it revealed the grand architecture of the city on the horizon. Vincent approached the window and stood still with hands on hips. It felt as though he lived two lives whenever he took in the view of downtown Acropolis. The sea of tall, glassy visages climbing up to the sky circling the outer boundaries of the downtown with reflections bouncing off of secondary reflections. This was far different than the rural areas he usually traveled in these days.

Directly below was the unavoidable view of The Supreme Chancery. It wasn’t tall as it was wide in its circular outreach that was said to cover two miles. A round garden courtyard was carved out in the center turning the rooftops and the trees around it into a playground for birds Its semi-circular design was said to represent the world in which the Chancery tribunals judged. Vehicles of different sizes and shapes flew in traffic lines between the surrounding buildings and with this being a predominantly government area, most of those were black capsules like the one he was driven by. The uniformity of it all tickled his sensors. The humanoid shook his head and recalibrated his focus to this historic trial. Court Report Interpreters not only oversaw the details of the transcripts but reported on the non-verbal cues during testimony. Unlike barbaric human courts, humanoids knew that non-verbal clues told more than verbal testimony, and this was a Court Report Interpreters primary focus. The Supreme Chancellor made the final decision when the interpreters’ decisions did not match the court tribunal. 98% of the time, the Supreme Chancellor went with the interpreter's decision in such a case. In this sense, trial interpreters were almost as important as the tribunal itself but without the same notoriety.

The trial of the century, Vincent thought to himself. “No pressure though,” Vincent mumbled out loud.

“Pardon, Vincent, did you ask me something?” Ava asked.

“Oh no, I was just talking to myself.”

“Are you experiencing symptoms of stress?”

“Not at all and I don’t believe that’s entirely possible.”

“Talking to oneself is usually a response to stress and though emotional stress is highly unlikely for your kind, there are other forms of stress. This is why you are built with secondary stress regulators. And they are operating at a little elevated levels compared to your prior stays with us. Can I do anything to make your stay more comfortable, sir?”

“No, I’m fine, really. Maybe it was the long journey here. I’ve been traveling a lot with back to back cases in a number of quadrants.”

“Would you like me to get you some calming fluids? We have a variety of special teas and-“

Vincent smirked, “That’s not necessary, Ava.”

The humanoid gracefully walked over to his briefcase and sat on the edge of bed. The humanoid pulled out an 8x11 sheet of glass and pinched the corner frame. It lit up and illuminated a picture of Governor John Woods in military uniform. Vincent scrolled to another picture. This one was one of a woman on bended knee with her arms around two children. They seemed blissfully happy in their ignorance. He quickly moved his fingers over to a video blast that exposed a few moments of video clips with John’s family, some with the Governor and some not.

Examining his picture, Vincent was reminded how, that without the barcode identifier, he resembled any other humanoid. He looked kind and intelligent enough on the outside and again, Vincent noted their similar hair and eye color and facial structure. Yet, the reality was John Woods was a hybrid--more human than robot. John did not choose the path of suicide as many generals before him had done in light of such trails. Rather he had the tenacity to forge ahead. How absurd. He came willingly and without struggle or remorse, and even embraced his own betrayers before being taken away in locks. Vincent found that part curious. What was behind such a position? He had studied humanities before and knew humans to have a strong pension to imitate those they admired, especially martyrs. The closest he could recollect of ancient human stories were those of icons such as Julius Caesar and Jesus, called the Christ, who were leaders betrayed by those closest to them. These figures treated their betrayers with kindness and yet died seemingly aghast by their betrayer's hatred rather than consumed by hatred themselves.

Next, Vincent came across images of his children. They were often seen in these clips expressing total glee, laughing and rolling around, even causing the adults around them to join in. Their innocent play exposed that they were clueless to the war about them. The woman, Woods wife, was quite beautiful in bone structure with high cheekbones, a well-rounded chin and unobtrusive nasal features. Her eyes were as blue as the sky, and she generally seemed to sincerely care about her family in the pictures and in the video clips with her children. This was clearly evident by her physical gestures and facial expressions. He wondered where this joy and happiness came from when they were clearly on the wrong side of the war and living in such poor conditions in arctic Galatia?

Then, he scrolled through the pictures of their snow-covered military compound and after that came the pictures of the men who organized the mutiny. They appeared more disheveled, long hair and beards--a gruff look Vincent was used to seeing from humans. Two additional pictures were that of one unusual looking humanoid who would be testifying. The being was part of a religious sect of human sympathizers. He wore white priestly garb and stood with a tall gray cane that curved into a hook at the end. Vincent imagined the cane could be better used wrangling in some wild animal. He had heard of this radical religious group of human worshippers before, the Descendants. They abided by a strict code of service and conduct, and they worshipped a book written by a set of humans who they speculated to be creators of all humanoids. A purely, laughable notion. The Descendants called their organizing body “Hewlett Packard” after the title on the book they worshipped. It was no doubt to the advantage of the Galatians to take in these human sympathizers, humanoids or not, because they were desperate for numbers. ”The Descendants of Hewlett Packard” could be a very violent group when they felt they were extracting just vengeance in light of any intolerance toward the ancients.

“Vincent, pardon me, but may I interrupt?”

“Yes, Ava, what is it?”

“You have an envoy from the Chancery in the lobby making their way up to your room. I wanted to make you aware of their arrival.”

“The Chancery? Already? That’s a little out of the ordinary... Very well.” Vincent put the case file back in his briefcase and carefully set it back on the dresser. He sat on the bed with his hands placed delicately on each thigh and waited patiently. One of his forefingers began tapping his knee as the silence and anticipation gave him a feeling of tightness in his throat. Envoys from the Chancery were typically intimidating: Two men or two women from the same models with identical builds. Twins. They often worked with the same mind, even finishing each other's sentences. It was a bit discomforting. They never came before a trial. This was all highly unusual. If one thing Vincent hated, it was a disturbance to procedures and routine.