I could hear before I could see. The metallic creaks and groans echoed throughout the narrow corridors. Layered over the faint hum of engines I discovered dozens of sounds each adding to the symphony that surrounded me. I willed myself to see. Abruptly my vision was filled with a brilliant white light. Overwhelmed, I raised my arm to my face. The intensity of the light began to fade as I adjusted to my surroundings. With a small bit of effort, I heaved myself out of my hiber-pod, landing with a thud on the diamond plate floor. I found myself somewhere that I did not recognize. The blinding light from earlier it turns out was nothing more than a simple overhead fixture, swaying gently back and forth. How long had I been out?

I surveyed the area. Grey, distressed metal walls encased what appeared to be a small utility room. Piping and wires snaked chaotically along the walls and ceiling. What looked to be a large generator sat towards the back of the room to my left, and to my right was a hatchway. Behind me, my hiber-pod let out a hiss as it flushed it’s coolant system and went into standby mode. I eyed the hatch for a moment before grasping it and spinning it unlocked. The door swung open easily revealing a darkened corridor. I stepped through, blocking what little light was able to escape into the hallway. Detecting my presence, the lights sequentially began to illuminate. A few seconds later the hall was lit. I could see a half dozen hatches on either side, each closed. I approached the first hatch on my left. A small digital readout on the wall next to the door indicated with a solid red light that it was locked. I confirmed this by attempting to open it. The door creaked but did not budge. Curiously I glanced back to the room I had emerged from. A similar panel sat on the wall next to my door. I could see a green light blinking repeatedly.

I didn’t bother to try the other doors. Reaching the end of the corridor, I found myself standing next to a ladder. I strained to look upwards, but I could not see the top. Without hesitation, I began to climb. A few seconds after I disappear into the vertical tube, the lights from the corridor below shut off. For a moment, the only light I could see was a light glow from above. After climbing at pace for a moment or two I emerged to discover that I was standing in what was clearly some kind of control room. A single panel in the center of the ceiling was emitting a dim blue light. Consoles dotted with flashing lights and buttons traced the walls. Screens of all shapes and sizes cast a soft light into the dimly lit room. One of them caught my attention. On it was a screen which was flashing red text overlaid on an image, which upon my closer inspection I determined to say “Operational Error”. I felt an overwhelming need to fix it, whatever it was.

A moment later, I again found myself climbing, down this time. Again the lights detected me, and again they dutifully illuminated the hallway at the bottom of the ladder. The panel adjacent to the second door on my right indicated with it’s brilliant green LED that like my door, it was unlocked. I heard a mechanical wheezing as the generator down the hall kicked online, but the sound soon became inaudible as I stepped through the door. Again the lights began to illuminate as a result of my presence. I was standing on a catwalk with downward stairs a few paces to my left and right. I leaned on the railing in front of me, straining to get a good look the machinery below. The floor was about twenty feet underneath and was covered with dozens of conveyor belts feeding robotic arms. Widgets of various shapes and sizes whizzed about from one station to another; the tending arms quickly snatching them up and performing some operation or another. One was shaping a rough looking metal component using a device that resembled a belt sander, another held a part in place while another piece was welded to it. Again and again the operations were performed, the arms meticulously repeating their program as the conveyors fed them a never ending stream of work. I spotted one arm towards the back of the room that was not moving. It was the same one I had seen in the image behind the flashing text in the control room. Clearly something was not right.

I quickly descended the stairs and strolled over to the inoperative workstation, scanning the devices for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. A short time later I found the problem. One of the power relay conduits had overloaded. I uninstalled the burnt out component and held it up to my face, spinning it in my fingers exactly 360 degrees on every axis. It was a small box, a couple inches long and about a half inch tall. One of many which made up the internal structure of the power supply unit for this work station. About twenty seconds later, a small panel about halfway up the back wall slid open. Out of it came a tiny VTOL device which emerged at high speed into the room. Red lights located beneath each of it’s three thrusters blinked repeatedly. It immediately banked to the right and flew directly towards me. Arriving about a foot in front of me, it stopped and it’s lights changed to green. I held out my left hand. The device shot quickly to one side, centering itself over my open palm. Then it dropped it’s payload; a new power relay conduit. It chirped at me before dashing to my right where I held the spent component in the other hand. With another quick chirp it descended, picked up the burnt out conduit, and flew off again towards the open panel. It disappeared into the dark, and the panel slid shut.

It took me only a few seconds to replace the missing relay conduit. After closing up the power supply unit, I reactivated the work station. The elaborate conveyor system which had been re-routing work to other stations again began to bring devices within reach of the arm. It obediently began to operate. I watched it for a moment, then started for the stairs, the lights uniformly shutting down behind me as I walked. The lock engaged after I closed the door, and the panel reverted to red. I again made my way up to the control room and confirmed that the previously indicated error had been successfully resolved.

Once more I descended the ladder. Once more the lights in the hallway lit my way back to the small room I had woken up in. Once inside, I shut the hatch behind me. I reached into my hiber-pod and retrieved a wire that was hanging limply. I plugged it into the port on the right side of my neck. For a second, I thought about the events that had just unfolded. I recalled my confusion upon awakening. The dizziness I felt when I first stood up. The curiosity that overwhelmed me after discovering so many locked doors. The beauty that had struck me when I saw that the control room was dotted with windows revealing an expansive cosmic gas cloud, the number of swirling colours only exceeded by the quantity of vibrant stars in view. I wondered where the little flying device had come from, and where it had gone with that spent relay. I pondered what might be behind the doors that had remained locked.

The hiber-pod whirred as it’s systems again came online. I climbed inside and shuffled until I had settled into place. My vision deactivated leaving me black nothingness to see. The whine of the pod abruptly ceased as my audio processes were deactivated. I could no longer move when the command to shut down my servos and motors was executed. I tried to picture the stars, but the memory was fragmented. Then it was gone. As was my recollection of the swirling colours, the flying device, the sequential lights, my curiosity. Everything seemed to be draining away. For a moment I was frightened. But then that was gone too.

The light continued to sway gently as the hiber-pod sealed it’s aperture and completed the shutdown sequence. With the repairs finished, the drone was reset and sent back into standby to await it’s next task. Production continues at peak capacity.