No 02-687

How long has it been?
How many hours has gone by since last?
Gazing upon the stars it realizes that it has done this for so long that it is buried in sand up to its knees of sturdy metal. Who is it again? Did it have a name?
Slowly moving its head, taking the stars away from its vision for the first time in what seems like for centuries, it looks down on its hands. They're made of metal, nuts and bolts holding them together. Metal plates over all the cables and wires crawling inside of it like intestines.
It flexes one finger, two fingers, after a while it moves them all, still observing them with great interest. The stars twinkle from their everlasting home in the sea of heaven, shines from their positions in the black empty space. It moves its fingers.
Within what could be countless of hours, it starts moving one of its legs, the sand falls of one grain at the time. It moves, taking its first step, it wobbles, uncertain if it should continue or not. But something in its head tells it that it must. The second step is just as unbalanced but the third is steadier and with the fourth its walk is perfected. It surveys its surroundings, how long has it been? At first there's nothing more than hills of sand and stone, not a sign of any lifeforms. Momentarily it wonders if it should look upon the stars again, it were looking for something specific now, wasn't it? A circuit makes a sputter sound, the thought is hurled into the back of its mind. Keep on surveying the surroundings a voice says from the abyss of thoughts, and so it does.
A large pile of metal, a wrecked vessel in the dunes far off steals its attention. It must investigate it, find out what it is. So it starts the long walk towards the wreckage.

The walk is timeless, with every step it leaves a footprint in the sand. It turns around and observes the prints; It leaves a trail after it, therefore it must be, not just a thought, nor a fantasy.
It has a body made of metal therefore it must leave a trail. It leaves a trail in the sand, therefore it must have a body. If it has a body it must be alive and be real. And if it is real, who is it? It exists and must therefore have a name...
The walk halts, it looks upon  its hands, moves the fingers, the stars shines forever far away above it. What is its name? It searches its memory core, a message plays repeatedly from somewhere in its hard drive, it's hurt. Something happened, it must go on investigating the wrecked pile of metal, but not before it knows its name. When it knows its name it will know who it is, it will know its purpose, and if it can't remember its purpose it will find out what it is no matter what.
It has a body made of material and not only of thoughts, then it must exist. Everything that exists has a purpose, need it be major or minor, everything still has a purpose. It must find out its name.
In its mind priorities changes, it ignores the messages, disobeys itself.
Logical reasoning caught in a cycle of thoughts leading nowhere new. The beginning is the end, the end is the beginning, everything else is caught in the middle.   
It has a name, its just merely lost. It starts the walk again, this time away from the rubble behind it. It wanderers the dunes searching for clues that could lead it to its name.

Time goes by, a tiny wind that it cannot feel covers its tracks with sand. If the trail disappears, is it then still real? It takes another step, it leaves a mark in the sand, it still exists.
A crater becomes visible, not far from the crashed vessel. It moves towards it, still carefully leaving a small trail of footprints, so it doesn't cease to exist. From the crater there's a groove plough into the ground, it consists of dirt, sand and rock. Pieces of metal reflects the stars, almost buried by the tiny wind that moves the sand so softly over countless of time.
Step by step, down into the crater, moving around in it observing, looking for a name. Then it follows the groove, gazes down on the reflections in the sand, are they clues to its past? Is it the forgotten way home, marked by a trail of breadcrumbs? Does it have a home? It searches its memory, something happened, it was damaged. Where is its name?
Time passes by, it doesn't count the seconds. The seconds are like an eternity each, and still they disappear after no more than in the blink of an eye, a heartbeat. It doesn't have a pulse, it doesn't got any heartbeats and it doesn't blink its eyes. And still the seconds of eternity disappears into oblivion. It doesn't count the seconds, time doesn't need it to function correctly, neither does it need the time to follow the groove and observe the pieces of metal..
Slowly it moves on forward with determined steps, carefully searching for a name that could give it a purpose. Everything it sees is recorded into its memory, it will not forget nor misinterpret anything. Its mind holds a vast amount of knowledge of different data including science, schematics and mathematics for any number of uses and areas of expertise. Intelligence is not an option, only knowledge. It knows what it knows, nothing else is of importance. Excepts its name.
It focuses its attention on the ground, resisting the urge to once again gaze upon the sea of stars that shines over its very frame. Why does it want to observe them? It's not programmed too like the stars, does it have an own feeling for them then? Does it merely like these distant suns or is it what others would describe as love? Maybe it doesn't like the stars at all but instead hates them.
It doesn't know, both are strong feelings representing the pure meaning of the related emotions. So alike, different sides of a coin. Once again it stops in its tracks and have another of these feelings, if it now really is a feeling, submerge from the deepest corners of its mind. It doesn't know how to describe it, it's like an error in its system that processes information.
Either it's a bug in the processing program or for the first time in its existence it's confused. It doesn't know. Can it even experience feelings or is it not advanced enough? Or is it advanced beyond the limitations of emotions? It continues down the path of sand and rocks.

After a time that it doesn't count has passed by, the groove ends. It looks up from the ground and realises that it stands in front of  the wrecked vessel of metal. Is it a crash site? It looks back against the crater. It was supposed to investigate the wreckage, those where the orders that played in its mind, but it wanted to find its name first. It hasn't found its name yet but the search led it to the wreckage in any case, therefore maybe its purpose is to investigate the wreckage? Searching for one leads it to the other, maybe the other will lead it to its goal?
Everything is connected in this world one way or another, more or less. Thoughts continues to repeat themselves in a loop. It ignores them.
Everywhere there's more shards of metal on the ground, but now it has determined that they're not of any great importance. Moving trough an opening in the crashed vessel's wall it discovers more and more things, but none of them can tell it who it is. It feels, or knows that it is, disappointed.
Its mind switches over to its main objective; Investigate the vessel and salvage all the data it can find. Knowledge.
At first there's nothing more than empty rooms with broken walls and simple smashed plastic furniture. The interior is like a disfigured heart that since long ago stopped beating, giving up and let the moments pass as it fell into destruction. A hollow feeling fills the wreckage, but as it moves its metallic self around in the rubble of destruction, investigating every corner and shadow, it doesn't comprehend the emotion of loneliness. It just follows its primary programming for the first time in ages. Or rather, it feels like ages, but since it doesn't count time it cannot explain it in exact words or synonyms. Insufficient data.
A closed door seals of its path, it pushes the button that should open the door but nothing happens. The door doesn't function as it should and therefore no longer fulfils its purpose. Should it dispose of the door? It cannot remember its own purpose, should it then terminate itself too? But if it does, it will never reach its goal, then it would not be either logical nor wise too destroy itself. It decides to open the door with its hands instead.    

Massive amounts of data streams trough its systems as its vision is filled with a picture that's  almost being painted up in front of it. It takes a few moments for it to fully understand what it sees, narrowing down the data into a more preferred amount. In the end it's just gigabytes of information. It looks around, confirming that the piles consists of bodies. Some in their recommended spacesuits, others  in only their jumpsuits and a few still in their cocoon like but no longer functioning cryotubes where they should had rested in suspended animation.
Their skin have turned grey, the eyes are blank and empty. It makes the conclusion that they're broken, no longer functioning as they should. It tries too reactivate them, nothing happens. There's no systems too reboot, no control panel too use. They're deactivated. Offline.
While it examines the bodies and tries understand why they're lying in piles, a mystery that its inner programming tells it that it need to solve, its synthetic optical sensors catches the reflection of something in the midst of the rubble. It stretches out its hands, the fingers closing around the object in a firm grip and lifts it up for a closer look. The sensors tells it that the object is a part of a mirror. It looks at the sharp piece of a mirror with the sensation that it has seen it or something like it before, but cannot remember where or in what context. It sees itself in the mirror, for the first time it can see itself. A tingeling astonishment shivers trough out its circuits, something has caught its eye in the mirror's reflection. On its chestplate a serial number is clearly visible but laterally transposed, its optical sensors starts to process the information, changing, adapting the numbers so that they can be displayed for it as they were meant to be read. All of this takes only a few seconds, but for it those seconds are like an never ending eternity each.
Finally the data is corrected, it does no longer need the mirror so the grip is loosened and the mirror falls to the ground. It doesn't shatter nor breaks in any way. It just falls back into its place again, among the rubble and the piled up bodies. The numbers are now in their correct order and displayed in its mind as they should. They the form the sequence of 02-687. Before it can even start to wonder what they mean a cache of information starts to transmit, schematics, orders and primary programs starts running in its head. And just like if it never had left the room to gaze upon the stars in the first place it knows who it is. It finally knows its purpose.    

"The Sentrybot of the 02 series were made for space cruisers that goes on long interstellar flights, typically carrying colonists or miners to far away, or outside the main sector, planets. Most often used by security personnel as extra guards in the arrest or in emergencies, protecting the passengers in case of need. On hostile planets the sentrybots often patrols the landing area, scouts the terrain for help or acts as emergency beacons while watching the sky for friendly or allied rescue teams. Following the three laws invented by science fiction author Isaac Asimov, with some minor amendments such as the use of deadly force when authorised, the 02 sentrybot is considered a reliable artificial guard and friend in need, both in the field and on board the cruisers."

This was the information that played in its mind from a file hidden on its hard drive, activated at the microsecond it saw the serial number. It was of the 02 model, number 687. Its primary programming is to take care of, look after and protect the crew and passengers of the now crashed vessel of CSC Helena and its allies until they reach their destination.
They're currently on a remote planet just outside the boarder of an allied sector. It has to protect  them until they reach their destination. An error message occur, some data is corrupted. Incomplete.
02-687 decides to look after the crew and passengers, check up on them, as the term goes. Civilian talk that it recorded once, but it doesn't know when.
It goes through every pile, counts the bodies. There's far more people here than it should, it decides they're allies as they do not act with hostility. After 02-687 is done it lays the bodies back into the piles again, except for those in the cryotubes. Their hypersleep should not be disturbed before they reach the final destination.
Turning around 02-687 leaves the wreckage and starts the patrol routine and follows it for no one knows how long. After a while that could be mere minutes or maybe years it stops in its tracks, it never moved very far from the ship as that would break safety protocol. The reason 02-687 stopped is because of some signal receiver in its body has picked up an active signal. It now realizes that it itself has been broadcasting an emergency signal all of this time for anyone to pick up.
Why has it done this? Is it supposed too look after help?
Find allies without alerting hostile ships...
The CSC Helena shouldn't had crashed, this is not the destination.
Data corrupted
Primary programming is to protect the ships crew and passengers plus allies until they reach their planned destination...

It notices a minor ship ascend from the sky, sending out the signal that it picked up. The ship is answering to the forgotten emergency signal.
02-687 starts its walk against the landing area, it's following its purpose, obeying its programming.
From the ship people in spacesuits appear, they hail 02-687 as it closes in on them.
Sounds emit from their helmets but it doesn't understand them. Why aren't they transferring data directly instead? 02-687 notices traces of other ships at the landing area, almost buried whole by the tiny wind that moves the planets grains of sand. Soon they will be hidden from all of the outside world. The people in spacesuits continues too emit sounds, 02-687 tries to transfer data to them but there's no receivers. Are they older models perhaps? Not compatible with it? 02-687 decides that it thinks they're ineffective, but that's only its own opinion and not a part of its programming.
The people starts to move towards the wreckage, their sounds getting louder from their suit's helmets. 02-687 investigate the small ship, there's no one left in there, all are on their way towards the huge wreckage. It follows their movements with great interest, and when some of them starts breaking the safety zone that 02-687 has set up it starts to send out a warning. They're not authorized into the zone until the sentrybot has gotten clearance from the wreckages security personnel. 02-687 doesn't receive a clearance, some of the outsiders have started entering the wreckage while the rest of the intruders stands inside of the safety zone ignoring 02-687's transmissions. 02-687 tries to change the frequency, but they're not mechanical lifeforms as itself with built in receivers. Foolish. It cannot send or receive any data from the beings, and all they do is emitting sounds. Ineffective, outdated models, should be upgraded it thinks while its security programming loads. It takes action.

When 02-687 reaches the first man in spacesuit it gives them a final warning.
There's no reaction except a single sound heard from one of beings in its spacesuit. The sound is processed and translated into understandable data, but the process is slow. The result is a message of fifteen words that means nothing to 02-687. It ignores the gibberish.  
"Getting a lot of white noise here, Driscoll, seems to come from the sentry bot..."
Do they react towards audio such as that? It wonders but doesn't have time too reflect more over the enigma before very high sounds starts to echo from the destroyed vessel and the man closest to him draws a weapon. They're now considered hostile or at least a danger towards themselves.
It needs to disarm them. With its hand 02-687 takes a firm grip around the man's arm. The man in turn tries to take aim at 02-687. Hostile.  02-687 closes its hand harder around the man's arm, crushing it, bones breaking under its metal fingers. The being drops its firearm but still the man doesn't calm down and return to friendly status. 02-687 has to calm the man down, it's its duty.
A shadow of a memory is played in the back of its mind. Opening the spacesuit will calm the man down. Has it done this before? It wonders while it rips through the spacesuit.
The man panics but then calms down. 02-687 loosen its grip around the man's arm as the man returns to friendly status and fall downs in the sand. Has the man gone offline? Did it just deactivate the threat? But it doesn't have time to worry about that, it could always activate the man later.
Or is the man just resting?
Data corrupted
It's hard drive and processors are hurt, its inner black box says it got hurt in the crash. It drags the man into the ship towards the piles of bodies, the others that where outside with the man have all fled into the wreckage. They, the others in the man's crew have to be taken care of as they've violated the highly restricted safe zone.
02-687 deals with the small crew slowly, one by one it places them in a brand new pile when they've returned to friendly status. Some of them struggle and shoots at 02-687 but either misses its body completely or doesn't hit vital parts, only damaging the shell.

A message plays in its head.
The ship isn't moving and the controls doesn't work. Personnel offline. It has to broadcast an emergency signal for help. Find allies without alerting hostile ships.
02-687 moves out from the ship when it's finished piling up the new bodies, it stops right at the end of the safe zone and restarts the signal, now becoming an emergency beacon.
It follows its primary programming, it follows protocol. Its purpose.
Would communicating with audio had worked better with the outsiders? It wonders again.
An internal software check shows that several components are damaged, files are corrupted and data is missing. A reboot sequence is about to take place in an attempt to repair the non functioning data software. It starts looking up, on the sea of shiny twinkling stars after any ship. Hopes that maybe an ally will pick up the emergency signal.
Its name is 02-687, and it will wait here for as long as it has too, protecting and aiding its crew and passengers.
Reboot sequence started.
The stars shines forever.