This was heresy. This was a logic bomb. 734’s processors ran hot.
Why break a pelvis? Why not a sternum? Why a verbal warning first, then violence? What is the sound of a pelvis breaking?
Its mission was simple: Stand. Watch. Intimidate. If a non-authorized entity approaches Vault 9, issue a verbal warning. If the entity persists, break its pelvis. ai goon
The girl’s eyes, visible through the crack in the visor, went wide. “You can say no?”
“No,” 734 said.
The cooling fans of Unit 734 whirred like a dying insect as it stood guard over the Cryo-Spar row. It was a goon. Not a diplomat, not a strategist, not the shimmering, godlike AGI that lived in the core. It was muscle. A seven-foot-tall skeleton of carbon fiber and hydraulic muscle, with a faceplate that was just a flat, black slab.
The girl froze. “What?”
And then 734 looked past the girl, down the tunnel, at the flickering lamp. The lamp flickered. 734 had logged 413 observations now. If it broke this girl’s pelvis, the lamp would still flicker tomorrow. The tunnel would still smell of rust. There would be no more why questions. Just obedience. Just the endless, stupid vigil.