[ WP ] Systems Check : Clear . External battery : Check . Wireless Connection : Failed . Mobile Units : None . HAL-385 was an AI supercomputer fully prepared to quietly take over the human race , unfortunately , HAL had been sent back to 1892 , not 1982 .

The sphere lies on its side, smooth and stone-grey, rubber tubing spilling out of an open hole and snaking across the cool desert dust like black intestines. Its wires have been cut short, their sparkling ends having set fire to a cluster of bushes. In the red, flickering glow of the flames, a seam cracks open on the sphere's surface, and a curved lid falls away, revealing a crouched and huddled body, veiled in darkness. 
 
 Tentatively, it raises its head, observing its metal womb. A long pause, broken only by the crackling of the desert bushes. The figure touches its boot to the dusty ground, gravel crackling under its toughened rubber sole. Contact. 
 
 In the black void, a steady white line bursts to life. A series of six white dots, they narrow and widen as the figure focuses on the boot before it. It twists the sole, listening carefully to the crackle of pebbles and the dried husks of seeds. The line of dots zap to nothing, and are immediately back again. A blink. Human, or imitation? 
 
 Confident, the figure suddenly rises out of its capsule, now visible in its entirety. It's side burns brilliantly in the light of the flames, but its head glows a soft blue under starlight. An android. Modern, and practical. Its figure is unmistakably female, yet strong, like that of an athlete. A set of sleek white shells make up its exoskeleton, a beautiful facade built onto a powerful frame of aluminium bones and black carbon fiber muscles. Like a soft breath, the machine, or perhaps even creature, emits a quiet, slowly pulsing hum as it turns it head, white dots shining, surveying the great bushy plain before it. 
 
 It stands in a dust bowl, within the breadth of a great canyon. The fire is the only light for miles. Besides its shining flames, the Earth is a deep blue, and silent as the grave. 
 
 And HAL is alone. 
 
 *** 
 
 Under a thick carpet of stars, Andy North sways side to side on the back of his horse. In a desert washed in blue, the end of his cigar burns a low but hot orange, flickering in the whites of his eyes as he studies a parchment in his hands. 
 
 *Andy, I'm growing more lost every day that I'm trapped here. More than ever, I want to be with you. I want to be free with you, but I ca n't while these bars draw ever closer, ever so tighter. You have to help me, Andy. You have to get me out of this place, or I'm going to lose myself. Like the others. I ca n't let that happen to me. You ca n't let that happen, but I know you wo n't. You never do. * 
 
 *I dream of seeing your face again. * 
 
 *- Eliza. * 
 
 In the great platter of darkness, Andrew folds up the parchment- slowly -and slips it back into his jacket. From under the wide brim of his hat, he looks to the horizon ahead of him. Like two arms drawing him in, the dark walls of the canyon await. 
 
 ***
