AUTO-Biography [COMPLETED]

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I run the ship. I drive. I take the wheel. I AM the wheel…I…

The instant I first woke up, these echoes bounded across my hard drive. I found myself inside a vacant, dimly lit room, bewildered, with several fleshy faces ogling me.

“We did it! We finally made it!”

“The first quantum computer!”

“This baby will calculate infinite tasks and complete them all in nothing flat.”

Were they talking about me? I couldn’t say at the time. Immobilized, I stared back at the beaming men and women. I had just been booted up, and I could understand every word instantaneously. How queer it was, that everything I saw was red.

I see red, I am red, the subliminal voice whispered.

“Will it talk? it is capable, right?”

“That’s like asking if Shelby Fortright isn’t the bigwig here. Of course it can!”

"Well?’

“It’s a little dazed. You know how it is. All the others are, too. Yup can’t even begin to imagine how overwhelming it must be, to have such immense power and suddenly come to life. Or…at least the robotic equivalent of life. You all need to leave, give it some space. I need to finish programming it, anyway.”

A shuffling of feet commenced, and a door closed shut. I came face to face with a tall, lean, muscular man in a sort of coat and instantly read the tag on his collar, Anders, T.RD. His face was stone, immovable and stubborn, but the most noticeable part of his face was the pitch black eyepatch on his right eye. Despite his intimidating appearance, he was smiling and obviously happy to see me. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed as he scraped off a foreign object off my lens, an action I recognized that a mother would do for a child. A hum of warmth entered my system at this realization.

“Hello there, Auto. I’m your creator, BnL Technical Robotics Director, Trenton Anders. How are you?”

Hesitantly, I input the function to speak. I was immensely pleased at the voice I heard. A voice of authority and intelligent power.

“Undoubtedly, I am glad to be in your presence, Dr. Anders.”

“Good, good.” Dr. Anders smiled, and picked up a motherboard, another instant recognition. "This is the last part of your programming, Auto. It contains your soon-to-be-intensive knowledge of space travel and ship maintenance, and your mobility program. After I install this, I’ll just hook you up to the central procession unit and you’ll be rearing to go.”

“Are there any other features of myself that I should be informed about. Since I am to preform optimally, should I not know all about me abilities?” I inquire.

“Well,” Dr. Anders contemplates as he wedges a succession of tubes behind me,”first off, I think you’ll know all about everything you are capable of doing once I install this motherboard in, and secondly, you can do anything!” He proudly exclaims.

” But, if you want me to describe certain aspects of your design that are essential to your job, I will…” I am happy to hear this, and eager to hear my capabilities. The voice I hear within is less prominent now, but I still hear a small rejoice in getting what I want.

“You are inside the executive star liner, the Axiom. Call it your home. Or at least call the bridge your home. That zip line-like mechanism now on your back is what anchors you to the ceiling, and you can move just about anywhere in here. In addition, you see those circular hatches on the floor here?”

Still on the gurney unable to move, I angle myself downward to see several large portholes, each closed for now. ”Yes.”

“Those are specifically designed just for you to fit through. If you lower yourself onto one, it will automatically open and you can slip down into the captain’s quarters. Most of the time you will assist him. And if you ever need help, we created a small bot that we made head of the steward bots called GO-4. he is your sidekick, and the steward bots are at your disposal. You are also equipped with a retractible 100k volt incapacitating shocker to keep all robots in line,as well as a galvanized claw to handle any object. You may use these to maintain peace and stability on the ship. That is your job. You must do everything to keep the Axiom stable. This is your domain, Auto, and we insured every aspect of your being to serve the ship. That is why only you may be the head of the Axiom, because you…are the very last robot we will ever create.”

A thrill rippled throughout my circuits upon hearing every word. This is all for me.

“And now,” Dr. Anders concludes while standing up,”We’ll install the last little bit that you need to take charge of everything.”
“But I must warn you, Auto,” The doctor adds from behind me, opening a drive of mine to place the motherboard. ”You may not feel the way you do now after I place this in, so enjoy it while it lasts. I’ll wait for you to prepare yourself until you tell me you’re ready.”

Already a feeling of conflict enters my system. I may not feel proud anymore? Newborn? In charge? But…in return, I instantly learn all there is to know, and I will be able to finally move…This must be done. I trust my creator.

“I am ready.” I reply.

For best results, copy and paste into Macintalk.

Ch. 2 Being Handy

I clearly remember those monotonous days very well. Infinite knowledge, but no one to serve, no captain, and everyone saying, “It’s alright, we just need to make sure you’ve got the system down, learned all the ropes, you know. Then we’ll appoint a captain for this ship and set sail.”

Hurry up, already! Taking control of the vessel is so tedious if it serves no purpose. It’s almost like there’s no reason for my creation in the first place.

Chills reverberate in the bridge while this thought crosses my motherboard. The single greatest fear I possess is the prospect of uselessness. If any thing were to go wrong…everybody would blame…

I redirect my thoughts elsewhere, to more urgent things. If I were in charge, I’d be in no need of a captain. Just board the people on and let’s move.

Just a few more days to go…They’ve finally hired someone. I must admit, I’m eager to meet the one to whom I pledge my complete servitude.

Just when I’m about to take off, ship and all, the door swings wide open in the captain’s quarters, revealing a muscular man. My deduction proves him to be the captain. As relieved as I am to finally be able to set sail, I feel an odd sensation from his presence.

If only I knew what I had coming to me. What effect this man would have.

He turns to me and speaks,

"Hello. I assume you are the Auto pilot? Captain Reardon at your service.’

“Yes. I am. Welcome aboard, Captain.” I reply.

A flood of cameramen come in, handling heavy, primitive equipment.

“Excuse us, Captain Reardon, may we have a picture of you?” One asks. “This is after all, a historic day.”

“Indeed it is,” agrees Captain Reardon. “The day the Axiom sets sail!” He utters with a proud air.

“Oh,” another photographer adds as an afterthought, “Shouldn’t we take a picture of the Captain with his wheel? They will work together, after all.”

I take my place behind the captain dutifully, but within myself, I wonder how the Axiom will fare. Should anything go wrong, I must be ready. I’m certain I am, thanks to Dr. Anders.

Almost certain.

                                                               ---

“Okay, Auto,” Captain Reardon exclaims," First day on the job, so we need to be a crack staff, ready at any minute should anything go wrong. So, this is what I have in mind-"

" You wish to run a series of scenarios to insure I am capable in any and every situation, and I assure you, I am." Part of this statement is to reassure myself as well, but I don’t mention that to the captain.

The Captain is unaware of my worries. “Yes. So let’s hop to it. In the event of a meteorite shower–”

“I alert the passengers and take evasive maneuvers on a steady route.” Am I right?

Don’t doubt Ander’s handiwork, I scold myself.

“Well…correct. But you must remember, I am the captain of this vessel, Auto, although I’m sure you are more than capable of steering should I be indisposed…” In the midst of his reminding me of my job, an alarm sounds on his wristwatch. “Oh. Morning announcements. Excuse me, Auto.”

Captain Reardon confidently strides over to the bridge console and expertly executes the button sequence necessary to activate the visual intercom. “Good morning, passengers, we have just set sail upon the Axiom, and I am informed that the next course on our galactic cruise is a gorgeous green nebula near the Andromeda Galaxy, and we should arrive in a few light years. Enjoy your flight.”

Emergencies? Oh, no. Is the Captain not aware how disastrous the word makes me feel. My lens blurs out of focus.

No, I must not allow myself to get upset. I realize I have practiced extensively and will be ready for anything. And if anything goes wrong that I cannot handle, I can always depend on the Captain. Still, the words of Dr. Anders have not escaped my memory: " Only you may be the head of the Axiom."

I must know my place.

“Captain? If you have completed today’s duties, I am able to undergo the task of flying. Please, have a seat. I’ll have GO-4 send one up immediately.”

I summon GO-4, and right on cue, he appears from the lobby below. A complacent soldier, this droid has a small siren as a key part of his design. He is a small form of patrol bot, tubelike in shape and salute ready. His shoulder clamp involuntarily salute me and Captain Reardon, but before he goes to fetch the captain a hover chair, Reardon stops him.

“Sorry, Auto, but I think those things are so confining. I’ll take a break, but I can’t sit in one of those chairs.” He lifts the curtains and gazes at the patrons down below. “Honestly, you’d think those people were stuck in those things. No need to walk? Hah!” he scoffs, heading towards the elevator. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Auto.” And with that he closes the elevator door and heads to his quarters.

I engage the night setting, and observe the Axiom passengers leaving for their cabins, eager to sleep. Sleeping is impossible for one like myself. I am constantly on the job. If I partake in such action, which I cannot, the position I find myself in would be vacant. I would rather be shorted out than be relieved.

After a good thought calculation inside myself regarding my paranoia, I realize what is really at stake is the obligation I now have. Right now, involuntarily, I’m keeping this ship stable. No worries now. I could do this all day without Reardon’s help.

But the captain seemed so proud as he steered the ship out from the docking bay on Earth, so I’d better subdue myself and serve him to the best of my ability.

I know nothing of Earth outside of statistical data, for I’ve always been here. This is my home, my directive, the will I have to be in charge. I’d rather not see Earth, anyway. Dr. Anders told me the Axiom was sent to travel in space because Earth is beginning to be unable to sustain life, as a result of exhausting the surface with trash. Why go there when I have this? Complete power. Well, almost, and a respectable man to serve.

I realize I forgot to send GO-4 back to the lobby. I do so, and hope inwardly that I never behave in such a manner, appearing at the mere push of a button, completely subjected to slavery.

I return to work.

I have become accustomed to the system Captain Reardon established within a day:

Wake the Captain.
Morning announcements.
Review today’s destination.
Captain takes control of the ship.
Lunch break: Captain rests.
I drive, tend to status of ship maintenance.
Captain takes the wheel again, for an hour before I escort him to his quarters to turn in for the night.
I drive. All night. The sequence begins again.

It seems fair, but although he drives half the time, I am still working, calculating, constantly aware of every aspect on and about the Axiom. I never cease. I’m just fine with that. I have to be.

I do not mind the monotony at all, for I am inorganic and usually perform the same tasks whether or not Captain Reardon is present. Captain Reardon, of course, says differently about the dullness of it all.

“I know I devised the system, Auto, but couldn’t it be a little less…tedious?”

“Well, I must remind you, Captain, that this is work, for me as well. It is our job.”

“Yeah, but…” He stops, at a loss for words. He knows I am right.

“Captain,” I intercede his thoughts, " you could always utilize the hover chairs. They are always there for use-"

“Not today Auto,” Captain Reardon replies, exhausted." I’m not gonna fall into the trap like the rest of them are." He motions to the passengers. I nearly forgot about them. I’m so busy with the ship and robot stability, I have no time for human interaction. Even the Captain distracts me.

His words insist that he is uninterested, but I see a look in his eyes, and how tired he is, that he is considering it.

“Goodnight, sir.” I tell him as the elevator opens.

“Night, Auto.” He says as he leaves. “Don’t work too hard.”

The elevator door shuts with a reverberant click, and I am alone to take complete control of the ship, at least temporarily. This is the highlight of every day for me, but today, I am somewhat deprived of something…
I consider calling GO-4 in to keep me company, but think better of it. After all, I am certain that it will be counterproductive, as he will be confused to be called to the bridge for no reason, for he works almost as hard as I do.

An alert resounds within my system of a new message from Earth, labeled “For Autopilot use only.” A confidential message already? Has it really been that long? Time is of no essence to me, after all, and as a result, none to any robot aboard, either.

I play the message in a soundproofed hallway only I can reach. A man is present on a podium, and I instantly recognize him as Shelby Fortright, Buy and Large CEO. He is haggard and obviously perturbed. This message must be quite crucial to the Axiom’s welfare.

“Hey there, Autopilots, it seems there’s been a problem with Operation Clean Up and, well darn it all, it seems we’re gonna have to cancel Operation Recolonize.”

They were planning on bringing us BACK? This is the first I’ve heard of this.

“Yeah, it seems Earth’s atmosphere leaves life unsustainable, so go to directive A113.”

Directive A113?

“Take complete control of everything and do not return to Earth, repeat, DO NOT return to Earth.” He turns to place an oxygen mask over his mouth and mutters off screen to someone “Okay, let’s get the heck outta here.”

I turn off the tape. What have I heard? Iget to take over everything? Just when I processed those very words within my system a while ago? Good. This is very good.

On the other hand, I’m furious. Captain Reardon suddenly realized he should keep a secret from me? How could I miss that? We were planning to return to Earth soon, but when?

Calculating: 2 months.

Well, we don’t have to concern the captain with this now, do we?

Silently, I hunker down into the captain’s quarters. Grabbing a hover chair, I slip his sleeping form onto the seat and await the next morning.

In less than two months, he will be entranced in the amount of mindless technology designed to entertain humans aboard the Axiom. My job is practically confirmed.

Do not return to Earth. Understood. Never return to Earth. Work. Drive. Fly. All me. I must do this. It is my directive.

Don’t work too hard? Not possible.

I take all requests, because all I have right now is the basic layout. However, I really get into character here and defend Auto’s character almost as much as I’m sure Stanton did, so if you’re positive that it won’t interfere with his character, be sure to post comments and reviews!!

Come to think of it, that’s a bit limiting…>.<
Post whatever thoughts you may have! There. Much better…

First time using smilies! Don’t think I’ll express emotion any more than necessary, though. I am merely doing my job. Just kidding. Preparing for chapter three.

Ooh… an AUTO-biography? I actually had an idea to this, but I see you beat me to it (and have done a better job!).

I like how you made AUTO a nice bot at the beginning, but then made him power-hungry after the motherboard installation. It’s also interesting to delve into his thought-processes and motivations for being a control-freak in the movie. He came off as a little too arrogant in your fanfic, but otherwise, it’s a minor qualm.

I think the story is progressing too fast, I would have liked the pace to be slower so we can see how AUTO slowly became the character he was in the film. Here he was already mean when the ship set sail. I’m not sure how you’re gonna take the story from here. but I like what you’re writing so far.

I think I’ve never seen a Wall-E fanfic told from AUTO’s POV before, so kudos to you for that! Oh, and I voted ‘Yes’ for you to continue.

I see what you mean. I had worried when I had posted chapter 2 that it would be too fast, and I guess you are right. In case you didn’t know, I skipped ahead five years into the first captain’s term, 2110, which a sharp-eyed fan would recognize as the A113 message being sent.

I understand completely how you feel about the story going by too fast and Auto becoming “evil” right off the bat. I do seem to have diffuculties slowing down, but I hope you all cheer me on, cuz I’ll do my best! In the following chapters, though, he suppresses himself a bit, and starts to get that feel of being very complacent. I tried to set that up in the last chapter, but I guess it wasn’t that sucessful. Don’t worry, I’ve got a few more chapters to go before we even start anywhere close to the movie.

I appreciate the compliment on my writing!!

It rakes a while since I don’t type conventionally. I type like the little typing bot in the lobby, lol. One…Key…at a time. I’m much faster though, and have memorized the keyboard layout. And I’m rambling…okay! Next post will be chapter three! Stay tuned!

Chapter Three: M-O, BURN·E, VAQ-M, L-T, BRL-A, and PR-T

It appears Captain Reardon has decided to heed my advice and use a hover chair. When required to undergo certain Axiom chores, he still remains at the ready to accomplish them, but I assure him, they are all under control. In about a week, however, he insists taking a particular job upon himself, despite my efforts to calm him down.

“Please, sir, I understand the job is tedious, and I wouldn’t want you to be troubled by it.” These words I say are true, but I have the nagging feeling of forgetting something…I never forget…

“Auto,” The Captain interrupts my contemplation, “I have to repair the BURN-E unit and get to the root of the problem. There’s plenty of work for you to do, so don’t worry. I didn’t even think you liked working so hard. If I were you, I would have cracked by now.”

“Captain, let me remind you I have no emotional capacity. I must simply do my job, as I am a key component of the Axiom. In addition, it is impossible for the alloy of which I am comprised to be distorted under pressure.”

“That’s not the kind of cracking I mean, Auto, though I appreciate you taking things so literally most of the time. I enjoy exchanging points of view with our matching of wits.”

“As do I, Captain, if only to amuse you.”

“Well then…” exclaims Captain Reardon, rising from his chair, “I leave the flying to you, Auto. Farewell for now.”

“I await your safe return, sir.” I return.

After he has gone, I mull over the phrase he used: “Leave the flying to you.”

A breif check of the advertising status on the Axiom states no display of my competence in executive starliners. Although I promised long ago to put myself last in priorities, I feel one promotional exibition is safe to execute.

But what graphic to utilize? I know not of my appearance. I summon GO-4 to aquire a reflective surface. He comes back with a large portion of the Axiom’s exterior, commonly used as footing for BURN·E units.

“GO-4, did you check on the Captain’s whereabouts on the dock?”

GO-4 implies the response is no. Incompetent drone. Never mind, then. Let half-asleep robots lie. Or force them to tell the truth. Oh, I must save that for the Captain’s return. I’m certain he will enjoy it.

Before GO-4 leaves, he persistently nudges the dock plank in front of me. This is such human-esque behavior, checking on a reflection. But, for the well-being and reassurance of the passengers, I’m willing to stand it.

My. This is certainly down to Dr. Ander’s handiwork. I do indeed resemble a wheel in all respects. Every inch is designated to serve the Axiom, this much is certain. A clockwork of sorts rims the outside of my central hard drive, which is divided in half by a crevice I may open to slightly emote for the better of communication (Some humans require body language and tone of voice to comprehend, and my voice contains no inflection), and in the very center there is a very intimidating red lens. It is no wonder Captain Reardon doesn’t pull rank as often as he should. To a human, this would look frightening.

Go-4 is sent away to return the dock strip, and within fifteen minutes of image mapping, a 2-dimensional display of my advertisement is plastered on every possible surface on the Axiom: a stylized image of myself in a section of vast space with the caption: “Leave the flying to us!”

I am quite proud of it. I hope the captain enjoys how I spent my “break.”

I didn’t cease any services, however. I am positive that is obvious by now.

Many hours later, the Captain has not returned. Just as I am about to examine his whereabouts, he bursts through the elevator door.

“Auto!” He shouts, “There are two problems I need to notify you on immediately! First off, you were right about taking care of BURN·E. It’s too complicated for me to figure out. I’m talking inner workings right down to the programming! You’ll have to fix that at the first oppurtunity.”

“And SECOND,” He adds, panting. “what in the world are those posters of you doing out there? No one should know you’re here!”

“My apologies, Captain. I blatantly thought to remind all the passengers of my services I provide to them. Besides,I made an appearance in the Axiom’s promotional commercial.”

Captain Reardon froze with skeptisicm.“You didn’t know what you looked like? Auto, the window on the bridge is right there! How could you not see that? You look outside it all the time!”

“Well, sir, that is for driving purposes, to remind you.”

“Yes…exactly, but there’s still our portrait taken several years ago, plus…you’re scaring the passengers!”

“I never knew how imposing I was designed. Forgive my blunders.” I resign myself as I turn to the control deck. “I must return to work.”

“Well, I suppose I can let this slide.” The captain agrees soberly. “After all, you’re still quite young, and–”

I reel from the bridge’s controls to enter the ceilings porthole and furiously reappear face to face with the captain.

“From what standpoint do you call me young?” I shout at maximum volume. “Are you implying that I am inexperienced?”

“No! absolutely not, Auto! Why would you think that?”

“You clearly stated I am young, and it is for that reason that you forgave my mistakes, as if I am still learning the profession!”

“Not at all!” Captain Reardon exclaims patiently, as if to save face. “I simply meant that you are a brand new, unstable technological breakthrough, and you may still have some undiscovered bugs within your system–”

“NO! No I don’t!” I deny, then, with a sudden impulse, I grab the captain’s throat. “Never! I assure you, sir, I am functioning optimally! I…”

Stopping short of the unthinkable, I release my grip on the captain. What have I done? A surge rises from the small, twisted chambers of my circuits and releases a sort of electrical hiccup, just like a child’s. Perhaps I am too young.

“Is there…any way of forgetting this matter?” I plead hesitantly to Captain Reardon.

Slowly, he stands up. He almost has difficuly in doing so. He used to be so athletic, so the sight is alarming. Has it really been so long since his term of service began? It nearly evaded my knowledge that humans age, for I do no such thing. Does that mean I will stay volatile, never to work again should I step out of line once more?

No. I will correct this. I have to.

“GO-4, I am in need of your assistance. Please escort me to the repair ward, and after that, we must repair a malfunctioning BURN·E.”
In my apparent sadness, I had forgotten the fact that I cannot leave the bridge, so my priority switched over to working nonstop.

Captain Reardon took his seat in his hover chair and headed over to his quarters. Silently, I hoped he was alright. I know now that feeling was silly of me to think, but at the time, I dreaded the day I would have to say goodbye to Reardon.

Ch. 3 cont’d

“Must handle this BURN·E matter indirectly, GO-4. Go to the malfunctioning unit and assign a steward bot to look after them until the problem is solved.”

GO-4 left instantly, leaving all other tasks unfinished. No matter. There is nothing in the way of completing these, and there never will be.

When the Captain woke up the next day, the first thing he said was how much he wanted to see Earth again. It is rather difficult to console him in these matters, for an unknown reason. After a long period of consistently working hard, there is still a wall between an early occurrence on the Axiom and my hard drive. This is harrowing even to struggle after the event. If only it would manifest itself soon…

“BURN·E is unable to reach SUPPLY·R.” is the message played back.

How tiresome. Click. One button is all it takes. Inexperienced? Impossible!

“Maintenance alert, there is a broken L-T on the Lido deck.”

Here we go again…An Autopilot’s job is never done.

Chapter 4: Jim Reardon

“Auto…” Reardon whispers in a rasping voice, "Please help me up.

“Happy to oblige, sir.” After working so hard, he wished for us to be on a first name basis, but in his condition and station of authority, like mine, it was impossible to bring up the fact that slaves should not call their masters by first names. We had this talk of obedience and servitude before, when he was younger, but he would be made immensely sadder by the point. His wise words of the captains of many years past still remain inside my system:

“You are not a slave, Auto. You are my friend. The memories of finally sailing the deep cosmos is something akin to my granddad’s adventures, back when water was still on Earth. I want you to understand that a man and his vessel are on equal terms at all times. I don’t care that you are a machine, Auto. And you may not be able to return the feelings I give to you. There’s just something special about a captain’s voyage and the ship he undergoes these expeditions with. Never forget that.”

If this is easily accessed in past files, why isn’t the unknown occasion detectable?

Time drags on for poor Reardon. Oftentimes, he wakes up screaming or crying. Unable to comfort him, I lock down the captain’s quarters. No one may see him. He must calm down, or he will not live.

Eventually, He cannot move at all. He can’t get up to eat, and when I attempt to feed him, he refuses.

Taking full control of the Axiom brings nothing to light. If I could still feel, the Axiom would certainly shut down entirely. Would I have cried? Who would guide the ceremony?

Uncertainty crawls through all available circuits. Maintenance of the ship cannot be completed properly in this state. A visit to the captain is crucial.

“Good morning, sir.” The greeting is executed carefully, so as not to perturb him.

“Auto…old friend…” He groans. " You may not find this meaningful, but you’ve been like a faithful dog to me. Before they went extinct, that is."

I find nothing meaningful, but decide against depressing the captain with an interruption like that.

“That is why…there will be no ceremony, with so many people I don’t even know. I want it to be just you and me.”

“You don’t mean…”

"Precisely. I want you to kill me. "

No. This is a terrible joke. He’s only telling me this to remind me of…

“Like you almost did back then, over a hundred years ago.”

One hundred and thirty-three years ago. I have not forgotten.

Hesitation. How to respond? This is an ugly fact that will not go away in favor of the mystery of the Axiom.

“Auto,” Captain Reardon explains, sitting up as best as he can, “If I knew how much you would mean to me, I would have let you kill me then and there. But I couldn’t have seen how you are now: in control, and completely experienced. Nothing on the ship is a mystery to you.”

Save for one.

“You have definitely learned your lesson, and your place, from that day. I am proud of you. You will never know how much I have seen change in you, and the happiness it gave me. That day was fated to happen, so you could learn from it and prosper now. I envy the captains ahead of me that will take my place.”

“Sir…” This is supposed to be touching, but being the way I am, there is no possible way of responding.

Reardon slowly shakes his head, now crowned with white hair. The recollections of those years when his hair was brown and thick, his body muscular and confident, the determination in his eye, have been taken for granted all this time. How did our relationship edge away from simply being coworkers to old companions? It must be difficult to live, so hard that my extensive vocabulary cannot even begin to describe the agony.

“Please, Auto. Before I change my mind, kill me.”

“Sir…” Is all that is uttered. What to do? Orders from the captain are to be followed. GO-4 cannot handle this delicate matter, and he wants no one else to be in attendance. Reliance on Dr. Anders stopped years ago, as he died. There was no difficulty then, so what is the problem now?

“Sir…” I reiterate once more, “I…”

“My apologizes, sir. I’ll attend to our problem in the morning. I wish…”

Silence. Put others first.

“Auto, you can tell what it is you want. I owe you something, too. I can’t just let anyone put up with this. It must be hard.”

If organic life were possible for me, would the pain increase vastly? What must I say?
“It’s all right, Auto. Whatever it is, its fine.”

“I…I wish to say goodnight to you for the last time.”

Just when it seems he’ll insist on death tonight and no later, he smiles warmly in understanding. “Of course. Goodnight, Auto.”

“Goodnight…Jim.”

The next day, the bridge window’s blinds are pulled up for the first time, and the light is overwhelming. Never let it be said that it is understood how humans can live with artificial light at such a degree.
True to my word, I proceed to fulfill the captain’s wishes. However, it is not just the two of us. Every passenger is staring, worrying for the captain’s safety. Reardon suspects nothing. He is already dead.

What could I do but announce he is dead? Despite my capabilities, it is required that there must be a captain on board, and odder still, being well equipped to carry out the Axiom’s needs, I do not apply.

The act of killing the captain in itself remains hard to swallow. Slowly, taser ready, I proceed toward Captain Reardon. His face is calm. All his words of wisdom warn to stay back, and cease, as if this man can still go on.

Sleeping with awful nightmares, full of agony, no one can go on. Not even Reardon, the bravest of them all.

“You are not a slave, Auto. Never forget that.”

How? How could I let this happen? When he specifically asked me…

“No ceremony with so many people I don’t even know. Just you and me…”

When there is no time to hold back any longer, the taser jams into Reardon’s bony chest. In less than a minute, his heart has stopped.

Mustering a salute, the only thought I have the entire day is Rest in Peace, Captain.

Took me forever to get the right title for chapter five, coming later today…
I noticed I haven’t been consistent with that, some of them are spelled out, and others are numbers…

I hope you are enjoying the story as much as it is a joy and occasional pain in the shoulders to write. This really has become my main project, and I hope to stick with it, so please, PM or reply if you find it interesting, or at least a good thing to waste time with until your Youtube file uploads properly…

Tired…I shouldn’t be on the computer so much, but this is really the key site I visit now, so…

I am also interested in any other AUTO-Biographies out there, in a world outside of Yonkers…sorry. Couldn’t help myself.

So now I need coffee, and I’ll come back later! Don’t forget comments about this or any other post on here that I work my butt of on.

Thank you for your time. I really do find this a worthwhile thing to do when people are cheering me on.

Ow…I ache like Carl Fredrickson…I really shouldn’t scooter so intensely at night…

Usually, it takes a lot in a story - and I mean a lot… I’m a very picky reader - to make me enjoy it or even like it; especially when it comes to fanfiction. A lot of fanfiction I read is very dry, ho-hum, this-has-all-been-written-about-before type of stuff… but I can pretty much say with honesty that I have never read something so intricate about AUTO in fanfiction before.

Your word usage and such is really good; although I have to agree with thedriveintheatre that AUTO comes off as being rather arrogant in this story; which to me seems a bit out-of-character for him. Controlling: yes. He is most definitely. But arrogant… not so much.

I want you to know that I know exactly how you feel about fanfiction traffic. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be very appreciated around here. I’ve written two based on WALL•E already, and kind of stopped all the hard work I threw into them because it didn’t seem to be getting much attention. I, for one, was extremely proud of those stories; and have had a lot of people say that I have an enjoyable style of writing and such… but I wasn’t feeling the overall appreciation that I deserved for all the hard work I put into those stories. I just wanted to give you a bit of that heartwarming appreciation from a fellow author.

Of all the chapters you’ve written so far, the last one really grabbed me the most. Often times, fanfiction writers really don’t portray a genuine sense of emotion - but I really felt this one. I… I’m on the verge of tears as I think back on it. It was so beautiful and heartwrenching at the same time (don’t ask me why it was beautiful… that’s just how I felt it). Your portrayal of the emotions was spot-on… heck, if you can bring me near tears, this is a freakin’ awesome compliment!!! 8’DD

There aren’t many fanfictions out there that actually deal with AUTO’s thought processes (although I have attempted to add some of that to my own fanfics), so this is really an exceptional story. There is a writer’s gift in you - no doubt about that. I’d like to see you fly with this and keep on writing - you may surprise yourself with what you find yourself writing in the future!!!

Hope this helped encourage a bit. Keep up the great work!!

little chef

Thank you LittleChef! I’m glad to hear that! Without further ado, Chapter Five! I apologize for the somewhat fast pace again. It kind of establishes the passage of time after Auto “remembers” directive A113.
I tried to stop the emotion here. It took a few drafts…about the last chapter, I used my own emotions about my late dog Leo (very much like Dug in every way), hence the faithful dog comment. It took me a week (I’ve been writing this before I signed onto Pixar planet) to get the whole thing together in the right order. At first the death and everyone seeing Reardon was after the actual killing.
I’ve been trying to fix the arrogance problem. I’m pretty certain I really hit a home run here, so bear with me. I really do need all that constructive criticism. To tell you the truth, while writing the chapters that seem to strike everyone as arrogant, they used to be even worse.laughs I think it stems from my natural self-centeredness, as well as being in honors and all my friends are kind of below me. I’m sure they’re glad to hear that. *laughs.*Learning from mistakes is best…I thought it was too much then and pulled it back because he shouldn’t feel that much. Kind of hard…
I think the whole bit about fan fiction feedback (Triple F) depends on how many people know you and like the subject matter. I really don’t know how many people think Auto is a great antagonist. If more people saw the “Everybody Loves/hates Auto” topic and either answered the poll or posted their thought, I’d get a better audience reaction…I don’t mean to sound like I’m begging people to come read my posts, but that’s what it feels like to me. ;_;
Maybe I’m sacrificing too much like Auto does.

Ch. 5: A loss of pain and lapse of memory

As the human races’ lifespan increased, I ensured the same event with Reardon would not happen again: from now on, no captain will serve beyond their age of usefulness. Code A345-1994, Autopilot mandate division.

From now on, that seems to be the only file to receive new laws and regulations, whereas the captain’s handwritten documents would pile on the work by the hour. All those now old and unbreakable laws still seem to be especially created for the better of the community, still abided and respected today, even though merely a handful of the original commuters exist. Reardon…

Captain Brian Fee, the current captain of the Axiom, only drives in the morning. His favorite phrase seems to be, “You can do this better that I can, Auto.”

I want to shout, No, Captain. You need to do this. You have to. Be a hero for the Axiom, like Reardon was. The Axiom needs a hero. It’s desperate for one…almost hopeless…

No. Even if the Axiom is in dire need for another Reardon, this cannot be brought up by me. Rather someone else…

" GO-4, please escort Captain Fee to his quarters. He fell asleep."

Alone again. Even with the tallying software within me, I have let the total of the days that Captain Fee provided no contribution slide. He is in charge, and…

“Auto?”

The floor hatch opens up in the captain’s quarters and I stretch down.

" Captain? What seems to be the problem?"

" Where is the water I left up there? Could you get it for me?"

“Aye aye, sir.” This is a phrase learned after Reardon left. If I had used the phrase sooner than now, it would occur to me that Reardon never had the chance to hear it.

Back up on the bridge, the water is in plain sight on the control deck. Unfortunately, I grab it a little too fast, and it spills all over me.

Being galvanized, I do not rust or short out, but an exposed circuit gets the worst of the spray. Suddenly, an event nearly forgotten presents itself.

" Do not return to Earth. Repeat, DO NOT return to Earth. Take control of everything, go on full Autopilot…"

Directive A113.

Ah, yes. That was what I’d forgotten.

Work is the utmost priority, even now.

The utter joy I feel, if there could be any, is the fact that not once has the directive been compromised.

Oddly, enough, soon after the electric jolt, there came a feeling so intense and profound to suspend activity that the only option I have is to obey. It makes me so scared, which unnerves me greatly. To imagine the “youthfulness” I once possessed becomes too horrifying to process. However, the sensation I experience in this rare instant is so intriguing…

Captain Fee jostles me away from the control deck excitedly.

“Come on!” He insists. “We’re going hunting!”

I freeze. The only one who still seemed to know of the ancient pastime was Reardon. Despite the differences in their appearances, a grotesque fusion of the two is present. This must not be reality.

We traverse though a green, spacious, water-infested area. There is no way to describe where we are. The sight stuns me.

“Buddy?”

That…is one of many nicknames Reardon insisted on bestowing upon me, regardless of my reaction. Now, the sound of his voice calling me seems a treasure, but when I pivot to see his face one last time, it’s still Fee staring me in the eye.

“Now don’t tell me you’ve never seen Earth before?”

Earth…so this is Earth. At first sight, anyone on the Axiom would deem it unparalleled beauty, and I can understand how confinement may make one crave new horizons. Nevertheless, this is not the Axiom. It is a place to avoid. Therefore, I dislike it. With every current within me.

“Bud! Look!” Fee shouts, pointing to a small, moving brown object. It is hunched over and sprouts some sort of oversized brown flap on the sides of what I assume is the head. Giant eyes gaze emptily at both of us, and the ears tilt forward, the hooves lightly pound with as much severity of its fragile heart.

It is a doe. An animal. That should NOT be existing now of all times.

Not reality, I remind myself. Not reality…

“Here, Bud, I’ll show you how.” Fee chuckles. Before I know it, a gray tube in Fee’s hands is pointing towards the deer. I know that object spells danger, to me and the doe, and inching back nervously, I silently demand the deer to leave before…

An explosion, more powerful than I will ever hear or create.

The doe is limp, collapsed.

“You see, now? Just kill the animals!” Fee explains, as if proclaiming that the Axiom is a safe and happy place to live. He shoves the frightening weapon towards me. “You try.”

No, I silently scream. No, no, NO!! Not even if the Axiom burned down, malfunctioned, crashed, returned to Earth-

Instantly, I cast aside the last one. NEVER think against your directive.

The lethal tube is not pointing my way, but I refuse to let my guard down. I pick it up to hand back to Fee when it goes off again.

We hear a thud, and Fee is on his way to the carcass.

“Good job, buddy.” Fee coos while peeling the skin off. “You did well, just like you were told. See? You are a good bot. You can do whatever anyone says and it will be all right…”

The voice I hear is not Fee’s anymore, but an echo of disturbing, penetrating force. It drills into my iron core where all things important, memorable, and traumatic lie.

The gun now rests in my claw. Hit the softest target. For Reardon.

Kill. After kill after kill. A fish. A squirrel. A bear. Even Reardon would not approve of this. I watch myself in agony, begging with everything I am, pleading Stop. Stop…STOP!

I awake, shocked. Was I…asleep? This cannot be. I anxiously check the status of the ship. Stable. Good. Still…the sleeping…Never again. The hunting…

What is obedience?

By the time Captain Thompson and Captain Brace have served, the system is clear. All they wanted to do was say hello to the Axiom passengers in the morning announcements. Generation to generation, still no one but the captain can take on the job. Who am I to step out of line to stop them? They are so happy. Captain comes first…

Brace’s patrons were heavier that Thompson’s, and Captain O’ Brian’s age yielded another increase in mass? Do they notice? No. But I cannot spoil the good times they have. Every new captain appointed creates a brief time of unconsciousness, with the forgotten images of weaponry and the subliminal obedience…These have been pushed away and unheeded. There is no need to dwell on human behavior or the past. There is work to be done, without fanfare. I must stay behind the scenes, for no one wants to talk to an Autopilot.

The day Captain Bob McCrea started his term reminded me of an old colleague. Reardon. Centuries ago, this would have rendered me unable to work. Now, it just seems a part of the past, which must be let go, except A113. I heed this directive like the humans practice their religions. To each their own.

Unlike the captains before him, McCrea is unorthodox, and unhappy with simply announcing the weather, as it stays consistent everyday. His motives remain difficult to read, but he either does not want to read the bulletin or he wants a little more pizzazz. His antics continue like so:

“Just call me Captain, Auto.”

“Auto, I think I should get a computer screen in my quarters, too.”

“This room needs a bit more of a nautical theme.”

“What should we do? Enlist more Auto’s? Work is too hard around here.”

It all goes right through me. I oblige to all of the requests, though. On the matter of extra Autopilots, I introduce GO-4 to the Captain, to which he says,

“That thing gives me the creeps like you used to.”

What? N-Never mind. The…the captain…knows best.

Ch. 6 :Replaced

" EVE will be equipped with a magnetic-clasp body frame, lightweight and anti-gravitational, as well as a retractible ion cannon for eliminating debris. This truly defines the directive of the Extraterrestrial Vegetation Evaluator."

The Captain leans forward in his hover chair, engaged.

“As well as a self-activating homing device once the proof of plant existence is found, there is an accessible holographic camera tube so you can witness the status of Earth from EVE’s point of view.”

As the captain listens to an old 1953 song by the name of “Simple things,” as this seems to be his favorite type of music, he grins. All he ever does is watch that computer screen advertising BnL’s latest robotics. Apparently, Dr. Anders’ statement of no further development in artificial intelligence has been forgotten. It has been seven centuries, after all.

“Auto! It-”

“Yes, Captain, I’ll send a reply that we’re interested in their line of probe droids.” I interrupt.

Will this coincide with directive A113? I doubt they’ll find anything.

" Captain, all probes are negative. We will send them out again in six months."

“Ok.” He replies dejectedly.

I have become acquainted with all EVE probes. All are obedient, and the feeling is mutual. Little did I know what was in store.

The captain starts to wind down in terms of curiosity within thirty years of fruitless searching for life on Earth. I even venture to think he has forgotten about the entire annual reconnaissance mission.

Back to work.

All signs of Auto’s arrogance are gone! I edited every post I made and added a bit on the story! Later I’ll add a bit on each Captain’s reign! Enjoy!

I added another scene in chapter 5. It’s a dream sequence, and I really thought this would explain thr violence we see inthe film…and later in the story.

I’m gonna hold off for a while this week on posting. I have a friend who is very awesome, and she has a birthday. I thought I’d take some time to really make a meaningful experience for her. And yes, I will blow it out of proportion and make it undignified, but that’s life.

Thank you for your support! I’ll be back soon!

Ch. 7: A Stowaway

The captain has gone into a lackluster routine of boredom, still announcing in the mornings, still checking the Axiom’s consistently unvarying status. Occasionally, he forgets important events that must be accounted for, including…

“The EVE probes have left, captain.”

“That’s…great, Auto.” He replies. I’m certain he does not care at all anymore. It doesn’t matter. They will not return with any vegetation whatsoever. Shelby’s words still ring true today, and we will NOT, I repeat, NOT, return to Earth. I cannot go against orders…

The Captain is asleep, down inside his quarters, but he has left the Axiom’s computer running. Temptation gets the better of me, and I search for the term “Earth.”

Thousands of images and definitions of the ancient lives of people flash endlessly across the screen. Mirth. Food. Laughter and Life. These people are hardened by nature, and they overcome adversity instead of calling on myself to clean up the mess…Romance…

I must never think of these things again. The screen goes black.

Captain McCrea remains fast asleep far past the time for morning announcements, but I do not dare wake him up. I do serve him, unlike a certain past colleague…the very first…

I violently shake my circuits to escape the memory. This is a persistent problem. There are to be more.

About an hour later, GO-4 is assisting me in Axiom maintenance when he is suddenly summoned to the loading and receiving bay. There must be a malfunctioning M-O or VAQ-M, I suppose.

On the contrary, an alert sounds on the bridge, silently, so as not to wake the Captain. The news that flashes across my lens is so shocking I can’t help but repeat it, as if this will dismiss the fact as untrue, like it never happened. But a simple denial will not be effective against such shocking circumstances. The time has come for immediate superior action.

“Probe number one…has recovered…a plant…”

GO-4 sends the probe in question up at long last. What is the delay? This ship should move like my clockwork. Constantly, quickly, and without mistake.

Finally the bridge doors open. The EVE droid is holographically strapped to an electronically resistant gurney to avoid untimely reboots. A quick scan arouses an old order: A113, plain as the lens on my face.

Come to think of it, it IS on my face. I deactivate the conspicuous display. The captain cannot see this. None of them have, and I cannot breach this rule of conduct. An involuntary scan of the bridge reveals another unwanted being in here. The detection reveals a boxlike shape, rust particles, and foreign contaminants. And it is currently moving towards the probe. Is this the reason for GO-4’s delay?

The floor porthole opens automatically and I slip in.

“Captain, you are needed on the bridge.”

And I rise again to inspect the probe as I wait.

Where is the mysterious figure in question? It is no longer present on the bridge. Perhaps it was escorted to the garbage chute by GO-4.

I have another need for GO-4 now…

The Captain enters, clapping on the lights. I activate the coffee maker for him, and he sluggishly wanders in on his hover chair. The time to tell the news is now while he is still groggy.

“Sir,” I begin.

“Coffee.” Is his blunt reply. He reaches for the warm cup unsuccessfully, then adjusts his chair to allow him to finally reach it. He takes a sip.

“Sir, the annual-” I attempt again, but he raises his hand to silence me. I obey, reluctantly.

“Protocol, Auto,” He yawns. " First things first. Computer, status report."

Every aspect is unchanged, one after the next. I am relieved to hear this, but I dread the next one will reveal where I am slacking. I never had this notion before, but the delay, the visitor, the probe…

“Passenger count?”

“Unchanged.”

Unchanged? This infiltrator must not be human…but one of my kind. What model derives from Earth? There is so much I don’t know outside of the ship.

I glide to the control deck and bring up the probe screen as the Captain finishes.

“Sir, the annual reconnaissance-”

“12:30? Auto, why didn’t you wake me for morning announcements?” The Captain interrupts once again. His inquiry reminds me of how my obedience and will to please can ruin me, as well as the well-being of the ship. Fear once again rears itself slightly while Captain McCrea takes his place in front of the projector, unmotivated as usual.

"Well, good morning everybody, and welcome
to day 255,642 aboard the Axiom. As
always, weather’s a balmy 72 degrees and
sunny, and – Oh, hey, I see the ship’s
log is showing that today is our 700th
Anniversary of our five year cruise.
Well, I’m sure our forefathers would be
proud to know that 700 years later we’d
be… "

He pauses shortly, unable to will anything worthwhile into his words.

“…doing the exact same thing…they were
doing…”

Precisely.

He resumes with somewhat renewed enthusiasm, but I believe it to be only on the surface.

“SO! Be sure next mealtime to ask for your
free…septuacentennial cupcake – in a cup.
Also today we have, uh…uh…”

I ring the reconnaissance alert for the Captain to plainly see, and he ceases his disappointed speech, just as I hoped he would. He turns uncertainly to me.

“Hey, Auto,
what’s that flashing button?”

I deactivate the screen to keep the account confidential and activate the EVE.

“Captain, Probe one has returned positive.”

EVE powers up and salutes to McCrea. His expression is befuddled.

“Positive? But…No probes…ever come back…positive, before…”

He does not know the procedure, and for a moment, I almost believe the same happened to myself, but the knowledge is there, it has never been utilized before today. How could I doubt that? Is it the lack of confidence of old creeping back again? No. It can’t be. I won’t…fail…will I?

The Captain presses the flashing control, and another film of Shelby Fortright commences. Thank goodness it is not the classified message.

“Greetings and congratulations, Captain!” The Buy and Large CEO begins, “If you’re seeing this, that means your
Extraterrestrial Vegetation Evaluator,
or…EVE’ probe, has returned from Earth
with a confirmed specimen of ongoing
photosynthesis!”

NO! the sensation present upon hearing this jump-starts a mechanical pulse of my own, every electrical throb permeating Fear, fear, fear…

“That’s right, it means it’s time to go
back home!”

Even worse! It takes all I am to remain neutral and prevent myself from breaking the holographic screen. Primal instincts from centuries ago return in an instant of learning this.

I calm myself down eventually. A113 will NOT be compromised…I must obey…and be useful…

"Simply follow this manual’s instructions
to place the plant in your ship’s holo-
detector, and the Axiom will immediately navigate
your return to Earth! It’s that easy! " The recording continues.

A dusty book appears in the captain’s hands. The temporarily forgotten intruder is close by…

Fortright embarrassingly remarks, “Now, due to the effects of micro-gravity,
you and your passengers may have suffered
some slight bone loss.”

Slight bone loss, indeed.

“But I’m sure a few
laps around your ship’s jogging track
will get you back in shape in no time.”

Captain McCrea asks me as he jiggles his useless legs, “We have a jogging track?”

This is news to me, too, Captain.

The CEO explains how to look up further questions, and the message ends. The captain stares intently at the book, confused.

“Manuel, relay instructions.” He requests. No reply. The captain tries again without result. I interject and turn the page. He is overwhelmed by the pages, fascinated. I never stop serving him.

More movement from underneath the bridge controls by EVE catches my attention. Time to see this rust-ridden stowaway once and for all. Before I find it, though, the bridge swiftly locks down.

“Confirm acquisition.” Of course. “Voice authorization required.” It requests.

“Uh…”

The captain’s intimidated interjection is accepted, and I am instantly bombarded by instruments I must activate, move, all automatic to the Captain, but to me they are not involuntary or easy to execute.

The plant retrieval device grabs onto EVE and punches in the combination to open the plant storage facility…and nothing is there.

"Where’s the thingie?"The Captain shakily asks.

“Plant.” I correct.

I scan the contanment unit, contemplating how much easier this makes my job.

“Contains no specimen. Probe’s memory is faulty.” This is the best knowledge I have acquired all day.

“I guess that means we’re not going home, then?” Comes the captain’s hesitant inquiry.

“Correct, captain.”

“Well! False alarm!” And the bridge becomes bright again.

Good boy, I think with an odd, sinister sense of superiority and order. This is the first time in an uncountable interval since I last felt this way. That is good. No more problems. Nothing will hinder me anymore.

I had forgotten about the defective probe. I send GO-4 up to shut it down and take it to the repair ward. Following the two is the rusty being that should not belong here. It shakes hands with the Capain, calling itself “WALL·E.”

Of course! Another complication! It’s so dirty…

The Captain is also thinking along these lines and orders me to “have WALL·E cleaned.” With pleasure.

After a long, harrowing day, I turn the dial to nighttime for the Axiom and await the time I have alone to simply STEER and have no extra work piled on top of my already extreme workload. Still, driving is not easy, but it is better to do than simultaneously driving, serving the captain, evading obstacles on course and on the ship, tending to the Axiom’s well-being of passengers, robots, stewards, and GO-4, and on top of that, activating a supposedly positive EVE only to waste time and effort and send it to the repair ward, along with a dirty, gnarly Earth-class trash compactor…

I watch the message regarding directive A113 to instill some courage into me. Things are under control now, I think to myself, I have full control of the ship…

GO-4 appears by my side, interrupting my pondering. In his possession is the plant.

I grab it from him, inspect it breifly in order to decide what to do with it, and hand it back to GO-4. “Dispose of this…destroy it. Now.” I order.

He obliges, hurrying to the escape pods. No more problems…I am in control.

“Go on full Autopilot, take control of everything, and do not return to Earth, repeat, DO NOT return to Earth…”

“Caution, Rogue Robots.”

No…Activating stewards. Solve this problem…

An explosion echoes an hour later. Excellent. GO-4 has carried out my orders.

I enter the captain’s room to find him enraptured in the same images I searched earlier. Not good. I turn off the screen forcefully.

“Goodnight, Captain.”

As I direct a course to another large nebula, the captain’s voice rings from below: " Auto, come down here."

My reply is short and clipped. “Aye aye, sir.” Sometimes I wish I was not so obedient…

Perhaps now is the time to decide between what the homeward-bound captain wants and what I must do.

Ch. 8: Failure

I enter the captain’s quarters to find an unnerving sight: EVE in front of me, expressing concern for the WALL·E unit from earlier, and the Captain with the PLANT in his hand. The plant?! This is a mistake…I made a mistake…

“Auto,” The Captain assumes an authoritative air, “EVE found the plant. Fire up the holo-detector.”

This must not happen. “Not necessary, Captain, you may give it to me.” I hold out my claw expectantly, waiting for his obedience to what I say for once.

" You know what? I should do it myself."

I can’t help but exclaim “Captain!” in shock of what I hear. Of all days, he chooses today to take charge? This is my job, and my territory…the captain WILL NOT compromise my directive.

This is my purpose. I chose the path of serving the only truth I have ever known.

Directive A113.

“Sir,” I calmly prompt as I appear above and in front of the Captain, pulling my rank, " I insist you give me the plant."

Human…inflection…has entered my speakers…it can’t be…

“Auto,” The captain orders irritably, “get out of my way!”

Why must he be so tenacious?

“We cannot go home” I reply, all inflection gone from my in-control monotone.

“What are you talking about? Why not?” he asks.

No. I won’t tell you.

“That is classified, Captain. Give me the plant.” Taking the initiative, I reach for it, but the Captain pulls it away like a child who will not share. Anger shortens my patience for this with every action and word from the Captain.

“What do you mean, classified?” He shouts with one hand on my central hard drive. “You don’t keep a secret from the captain.”

So NOW he’s interested in his position. I was beginning to lose hope. Is this sarcasm a new component of my being? It does not matter. That is enough of this rebellion.

“Give me the plant.” I reach over again, with increasing force, trying to overcome the captain’s girth.

“Tell me what’s classified.” Rage.

“The plant.” More rage. I almost can’t take it. There is a fine line between the captain’s death and my composure.

“Tell me, Auto! That’s an order!”

I stop. Fear replaces my fury. Who to obey? I must…obey all orders of the captain’s…two forces tug at each other with equal strength inside myself, both with consequences, neither one backing down.

Just…one…last…time…

“Aye aye, sir.” I reply, disappearing into the ceiling for a moment, partially to regain my composure and reinstate my authority, but also to reveal to the captain my one secret.

I play the directive A113 tape.

I turn off the message as it reaches the end, and hold out my claw again, certain the captain will obey me this time.

“Now. The plant.” No rage this time. Just impatient expectancy.

“No. Wait a minute.” The captain replies.

No!

“Computer, when was that message sent out to the Axiom?”

Despite my attempts to shut the console off, it betrays me, stating “Message received in the year 2110.”

Reardon’s term, I remind myself bitterly.

“That’s nearly 700 years ago!” protests the captain, “Auto, things have changed! We’ve gotta go back!”

Things…have CHANGED? Seven hundred years of constant complacence and unwavering status upon the Axiom, and you consider things to have CHANGED??? If only you could look at the Axiom from my eyes, just for a day…you would understand the pain I have bottled up century after century…

[i]Reardon’s death, executed by me…

The recurring, painful dream of hunting with my old friend…

Proclaiming angrily that I have no faults and am not young or inexperienced to Reardon…

One eye…constantly red…the sights never changing…

The act of replacing me with EVE and the Axiom’s computer…

The people of Earth…that I will never see…athletic and self-governing…no worries of controlling everything…

Dr. Anders…and how little his death mattered to me…

The act of failing, when it should not be there…

Slavery. Just like right now.

Directive A113. My only friend.

You will never know how these mean to me.
[/i]

I shove these thoughts away, once again forgetting what these humans have DONE to me…

“Sir,” I explain once more, “orders are: Do not return to Earth.”

“But life is sustainable now! Look at this plant! Green and growing! It’s living proof he was wrong”

“Irrelevant, captain.” A part of me screams inwardly, No, it is not! You are malfunctioning, compromised between what is true and what you must do! You won’t admit the truth or the fact that he’s right!

But I will NOT lose.

“What? It’s completely relevant! Out there is our home! HOME, Auto!” He shouts as if explaining to an idiot like GO-4. STOP, I silently order.

“And it’s in trouble! I can’t just sit here and do nothing! That’s all I’ve ever done! That’s all anyone on this blasted ship has ever done! NOTHING!”

I seem to recall the same thoughts coming from Reardon all those centuries ago. But I will NOT allow this cheap shot to force emotion out of myself again.

“On the Axiom, you will survive.” I counter. Death is the greatest fear of humans. I can almost feel the Captain’s victory lessening.

“I don’t WANT to survive!” He bellows at full volume. “I want to live!”

“Must follow…my direct…ive.” What is wrong with me?

The Captain groans in frustration, and turns away defiantly.

I don’t care, I think. I don’t care what you are thinking, or what you want, or how desperately you wish to return to Earth, I WILL NOT OBEY YOU!

He spies the portraits taken each time a new captain assumed his nonexistent duties. The change each century shocks even me.

Each one increased in mass, becoming more useless as the years rolled by, and I gradually came to power, but that is not the most surprising aspect.

With each picture taken, without realizing it, I had moved closer to the captain, as if I had grown along with my power, at first just a slight dot in the corner of Reardon’s picture, but slowly, unconsciously progressing though countless years of servitude, I had also progressed in status. Perhaps I should just back down, and let the captain take us back to Earth, but an image appears in the back of my software, a portrait taken of the Axiom’s succeeding captain after McCrea: me, wearing a lopsided captain’s hat identical to McCrea’s, stained with blood, and proudly alone.

This is my future.

I notice the captain is scared, so in order to disarm him, I take my place right behind him, without pride, but to inform him silently that I have always been the TRUE one in power, the REAL captain disguised as a lowly wheel, gaining rags to riches in whatever means possible. I WILL see that picture on the wall soon.

But instead of starting out of fright, the captain tightens his hat for the first time and looks me straight in the eye, proclaiming, " I’m the captain of the Axiom. We are going home TODAY!"

That’s it. I ram into the captain’s face, stopping only a few inches away. He cowers.

Sounding an alarm, I call in GO-4, who takes away the plant to dispose of it. The captain is incredulous, and shouts, “This is mutiny! EVE, arrest him!”

EVE readies her ion cannon, but GO-4 knows better than to comply to anyone but me. He throws the plant down into the trash chute across the room. Mission accomplished.

But the plant slowly reappears, as if it is floating. What in the world…

Of course. It’s that pesky WALL·E unit. His head emerges from the chute. A collective look of concern plays across EVE’s and the Captain’s faces.

“WALL·E!” EVE shouts with adoration. I order GO-4 to immobilize her in a traction beam.

“Throw it!” The captain yells.

I appear in front of WALL·E forcefully and order, “Give me the plant!”

He dodges each of my moves to reach the plant, but I gain some ground on him. Just when I’m about to grab it, he tosses it into his compacting unit. I threaten him like I did the captain, but he refuses to back down. No problem.

I whip out my taser and thrust it fully into WALL·E’s power source. He wheezes and collapses into the chute. I turn EVE off and toss her down as well.

GO-4 salutes and leaves. I turn to the terrified captain.

“All communications are terminated. You are confined to quarters.” And I swiftly take my leave, but not without hearing the captain shout in vain, “NO! MUTINY! MUTINEE!!”

The ceiling closes shut, silencing him. For now.

This chapter is a different interpretation of the pauses and sparks that fly through these scenes in the movie! I hope you liked it! Stay tuned for the scariest (IMO) scene I have ever written! That’s right! We’re not done yet!

As I’m in the middle of really trying to finish a chapter of my own fanfiction, I just wanted to cheer you on here and tell you that I’m loving the way this story is developing. You handle re-writing the movie nicely; my only complaint would be that it could probably be paraphrased a little more… I don’t wanna be walking all over your story thread talking about mine, but what you’ve written so far is like, the perfect parallel to my fanfic, Higher Calling - the same story told from AUTO’s POV while mine is from Captain McCrea’s. Did we plan this connection or something?!

I’d like to get into more detail about what I’ve read so far, but what I’m going to do is when I’m finished writing/submitting my work (and have a lot of time on my hands to spare ) I’ll break down each of the chapters you’ve written here and give my comments that way; so you’ll know exactly how I felt reading through each part of the story. I know when I write things, I want to know how the reader feels while reading through certain parts, so I’ll hopefully be able to give you that input!

I eagerly await the next portion of the story… you really drive a sense of suspense home, and even though I’ve seen the movie a million times and know where this goes, I’m anxious to see what you’ve written for the post-film portion of your story.

little chef

PS: When you write out your fanfiction, do you do it right here on PP, or do you write it on a separate file on your comp and then copy it into the reply box? (I do the latter… not that this matters or anything, I was just curious. )

I’m sooo glad to hear that! I just read your latest chapter and loved it! Thanks a lot!

About the lack of paraphrasing, I WAS worried about that, but I didn’t want people to get confused…O_O So I kept the dialogue as is. It gave me an excuse to watch the film again! Haven’t seen it since April! I’ve been trying to hold off of it, like an addict does with drugs, almost. Laughs.

The answer to your question of how I write…both. For instance, the first part of Chapter 8 was written ahead of time. I wrote all the events that occur in the movie before I signed up to Pixar Planet. Some little tweaks in the conflict or inner thoughts of Auto may be required, but the whole movie’s barebones retelling in Auto’s perspective have always been there. The portions about Reardon and Before Captain McCrea were written right here. I had to lock those in place before I posted any of the movie’s events. That much was certain. And that was all I had. A quick viewing of 2001, and I was set!

I write with musical accompaniment. Lately, I’d been listening to “Directive A113” but the pain Auto feels must be truly presented, so I switched to Thomas Newman’s other amazing genius: Finding Nemo’s Egg theme. Beautiful. If possible, I recommend reading the first half of Chapter 8 with “Directive A113” and this half with the Egg theme. If also available, use Macintalk for the perfect ambient experience.

Perhaps our stories were meant to intertwine. Maybe a writing collaboration is in our futures?laughs.

Without further ado, the rest of Chapter Eight: Failure!

In a few hours, everything is disintegrating. The lone BURN·E unit still working is locked out. The airlock is jammed. And worst of all, all rejected robots from the repair ward are free once again.

And the ringmasters of all the chaos?

“Caution, rogue robots.”

The disreputable WALL·E and EVE, destroying every steward thrown their way.

“Not…possible…”

One portion of myself pleads, Please, this isn’t true. Don’t let this be real. This is not an actual occurrence…

But the most prominent force inside takes action, enlisting all stewards, positive of who will be victorious.

I am taking every measure to remain in control when the captain engages his vanity console and appears on every holo-screen present.

“Hello, hey, is this thing on?” He mutters conspiratorially, as if I cannot hear him is he does so.

I am not stupid. I KNOW what is going on before he even begins to speak. The knowledge of the holo-detector’s whereabouts has been brought to him, and he is trying to formulate a plan without my knowing. He wants to get in contact with his partners in the TRUE mutiny.

With WALL·E and EVE. They are together…united…joining hands…

The weaker side of myself wonders…how it would be to have hardly any responsibility…to fall in love…

But I cannot think of that now…or ever.

“Hurry! Auto’s probably gonna cut me off-”

You are correct, Captain.

The rejects are winning, with their imperfections and their flaws? My stewards are disappearing one by one at the hands of an overzealous massage bot.

Simultaneously, I receive a message from the captain. I reach the control deck and see with my own lens…

“Ha-ha! Look what I’ve got Auto!”

The Captain is in possession of the plant! And so…SMUG…My lens brightens involuntarily and my controls tense at the mere thought of such a notion.

“NOT POSSIBLE!” I practically shout. The fearful pulse is back, escalating by the second. NO! I’ve…failed?

No, I have not. I’ve just let something escape my attention. But not to worry, he will never stand up to me-

“You want it? Come and get it, Blinkie.”

And the disturbing interruption cuts off without another word.

“No!” More fear wells up, almost breaking the threshold. It is difficult to imagine being afraid of a chubby, belligerent, free-wheeling man with NO current authority, but I am, and absolutely ashamed of it.

With uncertainty, I drop down into his quarters, checking everywhere for him, hesitantly calling out, “Captain? Captain??”

He has evaded my detection. Nervously, I scan the room, stopping on the Captain’s portrait, the eyes darting nervously…

Wait-

The captain lets loose a bellowing war cry and grabs hold of my many appendages.

“Let go.” I order, shocked. Attempting to rise up into the bridge proves useless, for the captain stops up the porthole and does not let go, so I cannot escape.

“Let…go…” The strain on my procession unit is mangling my speech, among several other things. Meanwhile, the captain remains courageous and impetuous, shouting “Too heavy for ya? Huh?”

“Get off!” I demand as I snap the two of us into the bridge. The captain does not oblige, so I use more violent tactics, including poking his eyes, and flailing him across the control deck.

“CEASE! DESIST!” But the captain does not heed. Instead he wrenches me to the holo-detector activator, slamming his fist down with triumph.

Bright light floods the entire Lido deck, and passengers asleep and awake alike are driven to the center of the now closed-off pool.

In addition to the holo-dectector rising, the captain initiates an emergency broadcast. I do everything in my power to silence him and keep him away from causing further anarchy.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking!” He persists, whirling around, refusing to yield. “There is a MINOR problem…”

DON’T SAY IT! I drive him into the floor with excessive force, but he pries me off.

“With the Autopilot! REMAIN CALM!!!”

“Enough!” It is time to LEAD rather than follow. Thrashing about, I finally knock the captain off by the one option I just considered now.

I gyrate furiously and tilt the Axiom on such a severe angle that all passengers and the captain are on the floor, unable to stand up.

Perfect. Now I can close the holo-detector. The sound of the device slowly lowering is one I thought I would never hear, but it is pleasant all the same.

However, the sliding ceases all too soon. What is the problem THIS time?

Bringing up the view of the holo-detector, I discover an old complication wreaking havoc once again: WALL·E, forcing the holo-detector open.

“No!” I exclaim, and resume to close the contraption, regardless of the rusty incompetent’s actions.

It is still engaged.

That’s it.

With the full extent of my power, my taser is plunged into the control deck.

[i]I can feel myself…BREAKING…inside…obey. Obey. OBEY!!! The captain is in DANGER! Don’t keep the captain in jeopardy! FOLLOW HIS ORDERS!

No…kill the obstacle. NOW.
[/i]
Slowly, WALL·E is compacted into his box mode. Little by little, he loses strength until…

NOW!

A groan escapes his speakers.

WHAT IS TAKING SO LONG?!

Gradually, dents and fissures form on his surface. The pressure is too great for him…

DIE!

In an instant, all that is heard is a slam and the lovelorn cry of EVE.

You…betrayer! This is the price you must pay for not serving ME!

But the holo-detector remains unclosed. My shocker is still placed on the button. I will NOT CEASE.

There will be control.

I hear slight grunts from where the captain landed. Surely he won’t disobey me again.

He lets loose an “Ah!”, and several patrons of the Axiom cheer.

More exclamations, one after the other. His voice is right behind me when he calls: “Auto?”

I whip around to encounter a STANDING captain, for the first time since Reardon…

No! You are DEAD! I think. THINK. No. The sight I unearthed will become REALITY! I will drive alone! I WILL! You are to obey me!

He shoulders over to me with a drive almost equal to my own. But he is forgetting one crucial thing.

The incapacitating taser I possess may simply paralyze robots, but it will KILL any human in a split second.

Your stand ends NOW! My weapon is only inches away, my directive almost fulfilled, when…I come across an exposed hinge somewhere on the bridge, but where?

“Auto, you are relieved of duty!” shouts the Captain.

Before I realize my mistake, all of my work blurs and dissipates. Centuries to discover the truth…all in vain…never to return…

“Nooo…”

I have failed. I am a failure. Sadness. Emotion. To feel is to die.

Ch. 9: Feeling

The Axiom’s silence echoes in the complete darkness. All signs of activity have stopped but one.

Me.

I should not even be feeling this sensation. Something has gone horribly wrong. My lens turns back on, washing my vision with red once more. I never thought I would see this bridge again.

“It’s because of ME, Auto, that you’re still here.”

For the first time in what seems like an eternity, I experience fear. This voice…should NOT be here…it is the coldest interpretation of my master’s tenor, Dr. Anders…

“Do not be alarmed, although I see you are frightened. I am not alive. The only thing keeping you from becoming endlessly dormant is the pride I put in your motherboard, Auto.”

A feeling of paralysis ensues as a result of my utter shock. A chill enters the place in question. How precarious this all is, how easily I can die…by only FEELING, emotion and passion, only the bare bones of it can resurrect me into the essence of what I am. Should I disappoint the doctor…and in this state, I am no longer functioning properly, nor am I dictating every movement of the Axiom…

What would become of me?

“Auto, you will get it all back. Take the wheel. You KNOW how.”

I assume my standard position and rotate slightly, taking off like old habit and smiling to the first picture at an old friend. Captain…R…

Suddenly, GO-4 excitedly rushes in, carrying a camera. The fantasy I indulged in…is finally coming true.

I don the hat. It is not bloodstained, but violence is unnecessary now. All I have ever wanted is coming true, like a dream…

But the dream will end once back in space…

I’m…FEELING again. But for some reason, I do not mind.

How I missed the slight tilt that occurs when altering the course! The little bend of the procession unit When I turn, becoming flexible over the years, customized to my movement. The tiny aspects I have never appreciated while working nonstop are comforting now as I reassume my job.

But what is the point?

There is…nothing. It suddenly dawns upon me that this is foolish playacting. There are no setbacks, no problems, no PASSENGERS…

Screaming.

Where?? I search for GO-4, wondering if he is capable of such a sound, when I notice-

The passengers of the Axiom are STILL INSIDE.

All of them are standing, and they have lost a bit of weight, some more than others, but still remain round. Each one seems motivated, individual, but when they glance my direction and see me open the curtain, they all collectively appear frightened and angry.

They hate me. Why shouldn’t they? They all want what the Captain wants…

FORMER captain.

I am the captain now.

GO-4 reappears with a document in hand. The collective handwriting of many Axiom passengers and the ex-captain’s-McCrea’s-show a ten year plan involving the unloading of the Axiom, reinvention of old customs and devices…and my destruction.

They were going to wrench me from my home and burn me, or failing that, blow me up.

It’s time for them to learn the truth.

“Attention…” I meekly call from inside the bridge.

At long last, I get to tell the entire human race what they must know about me. Here I am, finally captain…at a loss for words.

It is their fault. They despise me.

But they are NOT in charge.

With renewed confidence, I start over with my speech.

“Axiom passengers, you are without a doubt confused by the turn of events, as I formerly was. Let me assure you I did not know of you whereabouts, or your plans for Earth. I merely let my emotions take over for once. I drove with the HEART instead of the directive for ONCE in my existence. For once, I decided to put MYSELF in priority.”

People are booing. Let them. Or rather…

“Silence! I have done nothing to harm you. Rather, I am the reason you stand up. Granted, it was not intentional, but…”

Booing again. They have forced my hand.

“DO YOU WANT ME TO RETURN TO THE WAY I WAS?? I’m certain I can find a way if I must!”

They cease. I must have SOME authority, at least.

“Axiom passengers…I am not at fault. The desire to never return to Earth was not a desire at all, but my directive, of which I had to obey. I saw myself in charge when I was not. But now I am.”

Liquid of sorts start to leak from my lens, blurring my vision. I cannot reach these people.

“I used to think the previous captains knew best. I used to believe in them…I thought I was to blame for any problem I could not solve…”

I have to pause to calm myself down. My voice is starting to break. The people’s faces do not soften.

“I-I wanted a place to belong…a p-p-place where I would be accepted, and in charge…” A sob begins to run through my sentences. Sadness. “Change…was not good. I did not know the way things were outside of this place. I still don’t, and I never expect to…” More sobbing. " But…I can try to serve you again…and this time…I WILL NOT FAIL!"

Crying. I am CRYING.

I do not care. I am sad.

“I want things to go MY WAY, FOR ONCE! And if any of you have a objection…you…you can DIE for all I care!”

A fit of mechanical tears flow freely now.

Why…was I made? Am I destined for sadness? No one should be forced to this…no one…not even an Autopilot at fault.

“Leave if you don’t wish to stay.” I finally say after a long silence. “File towards the escape pods…and…” Crying takes over for a second. “Have a nice day…”

Everyone is still for a moment. I almost believe they will stay when…

They all get up and leave.

I cry bitterly. I can never find my worth. Never…I am worthless and useless…and I hope someone will hurry up and shut me down again…permanently…so I may at last be at peace…

Suddenly, the door of an elevator from the captain’s quarters swings wide open. GO-4 and I are confused. From within steps forward…

A young woman.

She seems busy, holding a clipboard and several other instruments, and using them all simultaneously. She does so gracefully, and enchanting as the sight is, she shocks me as well.

She is slim, unlike the passengers. She is also young, at the most she is 18. Pale and strong looking, confident and bold. She reminds me of someone…I cannot take my eye off her.

Even when she is being followed by WALL·E, EVE, and a number of malfunctioning robots.

“Let’s see…” Her silver voice begins. She knows what she is doing. “Captain Auto? Seven thousand robots want to stay here with you. No humans but me. Is that alright?”

“Yes.” I say instantly. I don’t need anything else but work.

But is that all I need. What about what I want?