...
Her mind was blank as she stood alone in the field, looking not unlike abandoned machinery with swirls of deep black and slate grey streaked across her body like paint. A small twig falls from the tree above her, snapping easily upon it's encounter with her hardened haunches. She pays it no mind. Not even bothering to twitch a muscle which might indicate something had touched her. If it weren't for the steady rising and falling of her sides as she breathed, she would have appeared as lifeless as a machine at rest.
In a way, she was exactly that.
K1A1 was entirely programmable, and with no instructions she idled like a car in park. Awaiting an order, a prerogative of those with operators. In the past, K1A1 had many operators. All were male and all abused her, though not in a physical sense. In eight years since she had been manufactured, she had been instructed to execute over two thousand tasks, and she remembered every one. The simplest to the most intricate. K1A1 does not forget.
K1A1 waits.
K1A1
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