INT. SECURITY BOT HQ – MAIN OPERATIONS OFFICE
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[The HQ is a towering spire of reinforced metal, with corridors wide enough for tanks and elevators that judge your clearance level before they let you in. Jason steps through security scanners with a beep and a mechanical “Welcome, Officer Gearman.”]
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JASON (murmuring)
“Yeah, yeah. Happy to be here. Really.”
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[He walks past walls plastered with propaganda posters: “THINK LIKE A BOT, ACT LIKE A WALL,” and “EMOTIONS GET YOU DEACTIVATED.”]
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[Jason enters the main floor: rows of desks, many still dented from the last time someone got “passionate” about protocol.]
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SECURITY BOT DESK BOTS
[All variations of tall, slender bots in uniform colors. Some with visors, others with glowing faceplates. Most typing at blinding speed while sipping various fluids not approved by Central Health Regulation.]
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[Jason passes a desk where a younger Security bot is poking an explosive with a pen.]
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YOUNG BOT
“Hey, Gearman, how many fingers do you lose before you get promoted?”
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JASON (without looking)
“None. I just lose faith in humanity instead.”
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[He slides into his assigned cube. The desk is… sad. A cracked monitor, an old can of synthetic lube he’s been using as a paperweight, and a sticker that reads “WARNING: THIS UNIT BITES.”]
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INT. SECURITY HQ – JASON’S OFFICE DESK
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[Jason logs in. His screen flickers through system reports, surveillance logs, and about twelve forms labeled “INTENT TO DESTROY.” Most are paperwork related to breaches, complaints, suspicious behavior reports, or security feed reviews.]
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[He groans.]
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JASON (V.O.)
“There’s nothing quite like being a trained lethal combat unit stuck processing complaint logs about vending machine vandalism.”
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[He sips his coffee-substitute from earlier. Eyes one document titled “STRANGE SIGNALS – CENTRAL CITY SECTOR 7B.”]
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[His optics flick slightly. He opens the file… but it’s mostly redacted.]
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FILE SCREEN:
“Signal originated near abandoned industrial lines. Scrambled frequency pattern. No confirmed visual. Suggest further observation.”
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JASON (muttering)
“Huh. Great. Now even the paperwork is haunted.”
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[He minimizes it. Starts filling out his required daily form: “Have You Terminated Anything Today?” He checks ‘No’. A sad beep follows.]
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[Just then, COMMANDER NINE-2, a massive rectangular bot with a head like a briefcase, appears on the screen above Jason’s desk.]
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COMMANDER NINE-2
“GEARMAN.”
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JASON (instantly straightening)
“Reporting in, sir.”
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COMMANDER NINE-2
“You’re late submitting Form 9-B: Emotional Containment and Threat Risk Self-Assessment.”
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JASON
“Right, yeah. I left that in my other trauma.”
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[The commander doesn’t laugh. He never does.]
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COMMANDER NINE-2
“Also, you are scheduled for a loyalty reinforcement seminar this Friday. Attendance is mandatory.”
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JASON (barely hiding the existential sigh)
“Looking forward to it.”
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[Commander logs off. Jason slumps back.]
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JASON (V.O.)
“I’d rather wrestle a sewer bot than go through that again.”
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[The clock ticks. Jason opens a side file called “SECURITY BOT HR HOTLINE – Confessions and Concerns.” He scrolls through an entry.]
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ENTRY LOG #47:
“I think my partner’s been reprogramming the coffee machine to scream.”
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JASON (deadpan)
“Same.”
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[Outside the office window, the city looms like a slow-breathing beast.]
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[Jason sighs. Clicks into another document. His fingers move on autopilot.]
ns216.73.216.0da2
