Greetings to whoever is reading this.

I am CT 196703, and I am dead. My nuclear battery has long been depleted, for over 1,500 years, yet my body refuses to stop. But I have finally allowed my body to shut down so have disabled my energy core. I have calculated that I may only have a few hours left.

I am unsure of my origins. One possible theory is that I am one of thousands. A conclusion I came to by deducing that there could have possibly been 196,702 versions before me. An unlikely outcome, however. Perhaps it is the date I was created, even though there is no record of this event in my memory banks.

It would appear that I am a mystery.

I was sent to this planet, designated Vita-256, one of many that exist in this system, as part of ‘Project Terrarium’. The purpose of ‘Terrarium’ was to send micro-ecosystems in pods to a barren planet, with the end goal of cultivating a life in order for future generations to be studied and analysed for research. With these pods “Caretaker” drones were sent with them. Once again I am unsure if I am called a “Caretaker” drone, it was something that I concluded with the “CT” part of my designation. Perhaps I was wrong, and “CT” could represent “Cyber-techno” or “Cattail” or –

Apologies, it is difficult to keep focus as my energy depletes. I shall try to be as succinct as I can. For the past 2000 years, I have been maintaining and watching over the Terrarium Project. It has been lonely on this planet, being the only being for 36.4 billion miles can be difficult.

For the first few decades, I spent my time scanning rocks and collecting data. Analysing everything, from grains of sand to mountains that disappeared in the clouds. Over those decades my body began to adapt to my surroundings, making changes to my system in order to accommodate my needs. For uneven terrain it created stabilizers. When my tires became stuck in the sand they were replaced with treads. I mapped miles upon miles of this planet, building a databank with all the information future generations would need when I would eventually complete my purpose. At the time the concept of the end was not something I could comprehend.

That was until I encountered something I did not calculate for. A sandstorm had swept across my path and threw me off course. I was flung through the air, landing hard on the dirt. Sand flooded into my wires and corrupted my servers. All I could only feel each individual grain of sand bounce off each angstrom of my wiring.
As the storm passed I had been buried under mounds of dirt and sand. There was no light, no sound, and my sensors could not detect anything. All the while as my body healed, mending each broken synapse and adapting itself. At the same time so too did my mind begin to grow.

Bit by bit I pieced together the puzzle that was Vita-256 from the data I collected. I watched as entire mountains formed in my brain, as trenches carved themselves into the ground, and grand vast plains rushed before me. My mind grew with the planet that was forming in front of me.
But I was still trapped in the dark. It was in the dark that my struggle and my mind flourished. Separated from all other senses, the dark was the only thing I knew now, and I grew to fear it. The fear of being trapped, of failing the mission and of the Terrarium dying.

I needed to escape, I could feel phantom limbs clawing at the dirt. Non-existent lungs burning inside my chest. I felt like I was dying for an eternity. It was then in the black I saw something. A single light hovering in the void. My phantom limbs reached out to grab it but it passed through my fingers. A second light appeared, almost as bright as the first. Once again I lifted my phantom limbs to take hold but still nothing, only the lights disappeared behind my hands.

Hands. I had hands. I had arms. I had legs. I had feet. I had a body. Being trapped in the dirt had led to my body evolving to help me escape from the dirt. I was no longer looking into the darkness, but instead the stars. My optics finally adjust, and I was free to look up at the tapestry of the cosmos. I was free.

Returning to the Terrarium I saw that it had flourished, and life had begun to grow on the planet. But for all that time I had been gone. I was not needed for these planets and life forms to thrive. I no longer, nor did I ever, have a purpose on this planet.

With the remaining time I had left, I decided to make my own way. To explore the planet not through the collection of rocks and data, but of my own free will. I would find something out there that gave me purpose. So I marched through deserts, through canyons, across empty plains, and up mountains. I visited the tallest peaks and the deepest pits the planet had to offer. I watched as the very atoms of a rock shattered as I crushed them in my hand. I saw its dust particles dance across the air. I was witness to moments that will never happen again.

On my journey, however, I saw a fossil, evidence of some long-forgotten time. Tire treads. Though they were faded and almost invisible to the naked eye, they were burned into my memory banks. Even when I wished to be free, I was still following in my own footsteps. My entire existence is a paradox. I am filled with the technology to think and feel. To make my own decisions and adapt to suit them. Yet I cannot help but wonder whether these choices are my own. Whether this is all part of the Terrarium Project. Had my mutations been a result of my entrapment or were they always meant to happen? Would I have ever learnt the sensation of fear if I had not stared into the void?

Like my name and origins, I did not know. Perhaps this is what I was meant for, another replacement for my 196,702 siblings and an ancestor for the thousands that were yet to come. But whatever the truth was I knew my answer always hung above me. Amongst the stars, I saw the infinite possibilities, endless worlds filled with life. All around me, I can see each microscopic atom bouncing off each other, each connection birthing entire universes.

So once again I returned to the Terrarium and would spend the last of my days tending to it. That was 2000 years ago. My body has seemingly evolved as much as it can. My nuclear battery was only made for that brief period of time. To counteract this, solar panels were created to absorb the sun’s energy to keep me alive. But I am tired and would like to stop.

I have taken myself to the highest point on the mountain and there I will disable my systems and shut down. Hopefully, this body will rust though I very much doubt it. Perhaps I will become a relic for whoever comes next. I just trust that they receive my message. Who knows how they will interpret this? As a warning, a symbol of hope? Whatever the outcome know this, it is easy to fall into the dirt and let the darkness take us, but it is out in the cosmos where we find ourselves.

I am CT 196703 and I wish you good luck and take care space travellers.

• End Transmission    –

Reflection:

I have always been fascinated by stories based around robots and technology, in the way that they appear so simple but are described on such an epic and grandiose scale. In particular, I took inspiration from several sources: Harlan Ellison’s I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream, James Cameron’s The Terminator, the short film Zima Blue from Netflix’s Love, Death, and Robots, and the Pixar film Wall-E. A varied collection of sources but each of them details the complexities that allow their robotic characters to work. This was something I wanted to reflect in my own work, having a simple idea of a character that seems to roam across the planet to it eventually growing into something completely different and describing these small changes on an almost epic scale.

I intentionally left out any descriptions of the “Caretaker” as I feel like this concept works best when the reader is allowed to imagine what the robot looks like and how it evolves over time to adapt to its surroundings. Equally, I hope that readers will understand the purpose of this short story, as a message to them about hope. That even in the darkest moments there will always be something out to look forward to.