Blowz-R-Upp walked with the group past the doors, adjusting his red fuzzy hat getting all the gunk out of it that might of gotten on him from the path here.

He watched as the hover craft lit up, and spoke to them, a happy cheerful female voice with the look of a rough and tumble vehicle. Blowz made sure his hat would stay on through out the ride stayed down tight, trying to brace himself. He knew how testy some "new" inventions might be and wondered if the rest of his party felt the same anxiousness he felt just by getting into the bot.

Boarding the Alpha-19.87b Friendliness Hoverbot proves to be a minor adventure in and of itself. Not only have the seats been removed, but of course, the seatbelts are also gone. After all, seatbelts with no seats would be inefficient, correct?

The six clones, plus one jackobot, do their best to find spots with something to hold on to. Poor Steam discovers that the opportunity to drive this thing will be particularly challenging - the controls consist of various levers, knobs, and buttons (all unmarked), as well as three pedals. Operating pedals without a seat will be an interesting proposal.

"BING!" the hoverbot intones in a sweet, helpful voice. "Ready to commence hover mode!"

Unfortunately, none of the controls seem to do anything at all.

"BEE-DEE-BEE-DEE-BEEP, superior human," Jackie suggests. "Perhaps you should ask the hoverbot for assistance instead of squandering valuable mission time? I am certain that Friend Computer would not approve of the waste of any resource."

Cheeks burning, Steam follows the suggestion.

"BING!" the hoverbot answers. "Engine startup is a voice command. Would you like to commence startup?"

At the nominal pilot's affirmative response, the four fans blades begin spinning with a horrible noise (though one starts much later than the other three, causing one corner of the hoverbot to droop alarmingly while the other three rise).

Steam grabs the levers, pulls slightly... nothing happens. A harder pull results in an abrupt lurch to the left, which in turn results in a wince-inducing scrape of metal against the parking garage wall.

"BING!" the hoverbot speaks. "For maximum saftey and ride enjoyment, please ensure adequate clearance before initiating turns."

Once the hoverbot is pointed in the apparently correct direction, Steam coerces it to move forward - again with a lurch that threatens to drop at least two clones over the side of the vehicle. Once moving, however, the coveyance *does* have an enjoyable, smooth ride.

"BING!" the hoverbot cheerfully intones. "Next stop, the PLC!"

Artie smiled.

This was his game now. He could already see the space alien invaders piloting asteroids lining up in front of them. He could visualize cannons on either side of their hoverbot. He would do it this time. He would beat that damn high score.

This was all, of course, completely stupid. No, he was not visualizing such things. He didn't even think aliens were real. That was illogical.

Still, he was smiling. Happiness was mandatory after all. Everyone was part of the team, and they were all serving their ultimate protector, benefactor, and guardian, Friend Computer. Or, at least, that's what the surface appearance was. How could one be certain?

With an iron grip on the railing, he stood, unmoving, as the hoverbot continued forward.

"Reminder: expression of gratitude is advisable. Transport: efficient, logical, and was provided for us. Steam: caution, interfacing affinity is top priority. Casualties are inefficient." He looked back momentarily at Ammpe and Brighte, before looking forward again, feet steady on the hoverbot, and his grip firm.

He was probably the least concerned about the hoverbot's safety or lack of it. He looked down at the bot. What a fine craft she was. He would love to take a closer look but he was uncertain on the variable t that measured the time since she was last looked at, and whether that would allow him to schedule maintenance. Or Jackie for that matter. They are both extremely fine models that performed admirably.

Brighte's stomach fell as the hoverbot lurched. As much as he hated robots, he was sure the Friend computer had a reason for this. That thought made him happy. He smiled visibly even as the ship continued to lurch. After the Jackbot told Steam to that he could ask the hover bot for help, he was sure that something treasonous was goinng on. Wether it was the horrible robot, or Steam Brighte couldn't tell. When one of them showed their treasonous intentions, he would turn them in. And that would definately please the friend computer. And whatever pleased the friend computer, made Brighte happy. Despite of all the lurching, Brighte was still smiling happily away.

That task of operating the hoverbot was certainly more daunting than Steam had expected, but he bashfully kept at it. That is to say that he was flustered but continued, not that he bashed the controls; certainly such actions would be either ineffective or counter-productive, bringing upon him the deserved scorn of his companions and, more importantly, Friend Computer.

He quickly did away with any thoughts of violently handling the controls.

At the 'suggestion' of the Jackobot, Steam began requesting assistance from the hoverbot. The procedure created a nagging sensation in his mind, as the Jackobot had of course also had 'words of advice' when he had been brought to harm before; at least all was currently well.

The hoverbot began to rise, although lopsided, and by the time Steam has settled it out Artie was already chirping up some sort of jot-noted speech; the clone may as well have recited notations.

Giving an absentminded nod when Artie said his name, Steam continued to look forward. The last thing he wanted was to crash by looking away from where he was flying.

...at the very least he liked to think 'he' was flying...

If anyone were to write an honest performance evaluation for the new, perfected Alpha-19.87b Friendliness Hoverbot, they would likely indicate that it both accelerates and decelerates in a smooth manner, and that the ride on straight paths is quite steady... even enjoyable.

The controls, however, could use some serious adjustment. It would appear (much to Steam's dismay) that the left turn mechanism is easily twice as sensitive as the right turn mechanism, and that the vehicle lurches alarmingly when conducting any sort of turn.

This is first discovered after the armed forces clone is forced to nearly wrestle the vehicle around a right turn. Similar effort on a left turn has the hoverbot veering wildly into oncoming traffic, causing a teeth chattering crash with a streetsweeping bot.

The next complaint would likely be about the lack of both seating and restraints. It is quite difficult for anyone to maintain balance; even the most stoic of clones find themelves holding on with white knuckled intensity while the vehicle is in motion.

Ah, and the hover fans themselves... safety guards might indeed be appropriate. Said crash causes everyone to be tossed about, and both Brighte and Blowz are launched completely out of the vehicle.

Brighte is fortunate enough to be thrown clear of the crash, and the nimble little man manages to tuck and roll enough to avoid truly serious harm (though standing up reveals a cracked rib or two to go along with various abraisions and contusions).

Blowz, on the other hand, is not so lucky. The earnest, friendly clone produces some truly horrifying screams followed by choking, gurgling sounds as he falls into one of the unguarded hover fans. Some sort of safety protocol kicks in and stps the rotation of all fans after a good twenty to thirty seconds of chopping, but by that point, it is far too late to do anything for the minced clone.

At least the cessation of the blades stops any more blood and gore from being flung onto the surviving clones and/or the interior of the hoverbot.

"BING!" the hoverbot announces in its warm, feminine tone. "Standard event number six: one of the crew has unfortunately fallen to their deaths. Please stand by while a replacement clone is summoned."

At least the crash was with a streetsweeping bot. It efficiently begins to clean up the horrible mess while the team waits for the next incarnation of Blowz-R-UPP.

Brighte screamed as he fell from the hoverbot. He tryed his best to roll out of the way of any debris, and avoid injury. The successful at the first, he failed at the latter as revealed when he stood up. He had his left arm across his stomch, with immense pain. Man did Brighte hate robots. It seemed that Blowz was now dead. Brighte could only be happy that the friend computer did indeed beleive that Brighte was worth more than Blowz, and had prevented such a fate to befall him. Brighte was confident that he would help the Firend computer. Despite all the pain, Brighte was happy that he could help the friend computer. That, and the hoverbot was severally damaged of course.

Laying on his back, Slipp looked up into the sky among the crash site. The only thoughts on his mind were of how the group may have just failed the mission after the crash. Especially since they lost BloWz and Brighte, hopefully everyone else may be ok.

Artie stood firm on top of the hoverbot. He was not moving. Granted, it is difficult to move when one's hand is locked in an iron grip. Ascertaining that momentum has indeed halted, he eased his grip, using his free hand to unlock his white knuckles with come coersion. With that done, he looked around. Body count == two? No, further analysis dictates the count to only be one.

There wasn't much to do at the moment. The group's exact coordinates had to be maintained in order to ensure optimal efficiency for the clone replacement.

However, there was one sure thing that needed to be done. "Temporary objective: reboard Brighte." Artie noted aloud.

With that, he began to scan with his vision for something to help Brighte get back on board (assuming that it isn't an immediately straightforward matter).

Steam beamed with pride. He had finally managed to grasp the controls in a manner that allowed the craft to accelerate and decelerate in a straight line with relative easy. He was so caught up in his happiness over this development of his trial-by-fire pilot debut that he assumed the hoverbot would take to turns in a similarly wonderful fashion.

This was not to be.

The controls for turning appeared unbalanced, enough so that, despite Steam's efforts, the hoverbot collided with a robotic streetsweeper. The resounding screams of some of his companions were of little concern as the armed forces clone attempted to stabilize a craft now shutting down. As the hoverbot came to a halt, Steam realized the screams had died away, and that a horrid sloshing sound emanated from one of the slowing industrial fans.

A gory mess was within the fan, and both Brighte and Blowz were missing. The hoverbot only reported one as dead. Further examination of the fan offered a glimmer of grim-joy, a fragment of red hat was caught within the blades; the grating speech patterns of Blowz would surely be rectified in his reincarnation. Unless there was a mutation....

He pushed the thought from his mind. The replacement should be a purified clone, free from mutagen contamination; there was screening for that after all!

Looking over the situation at hand, Steam was relieved to find that both the hoverbot and streetsweeping bot were largely undamaged. This boded well for him, as he would have less in damages to pay for, however he had to reflect on why the crash occurred in the first place; perhaps traitorous sabotage was at work!

These were the thoughts Steam contemplated as he happily watched the streetsweeper remove the minced bits of a potential mutant.

It takes approximately ten minutes for the next incarnation of BLOWZ-R-UPP to arrive on scene, by which point the sweeperbot is essentially done with the task of cleaning the mess caused by the gruesome death of his predecessor. Naturally, traffic on the treet is now hopelessly snarled, but most of the citizens affected appear to be infareds who have sense enough to keep their opinions to themselves.

Once the new close arrives, the hoverbot responds. "BING!" it intones in that warm, friendly female voice. "Standard event six is resolved with the replacement of the dead clone. Transport may now resume."

The fans whir back to life, causing a fine mist of blood (and a few assorted chunks of gore) to be tossed in and around the crew compartment, and the hoverbot floats back into position.

Steam immediately discovers that the hoverbot's controls are no longer as responsive as they once were - presumably, this is a side effect of the crash. The bottom line is that the vehicle is now even more difficult to control.

Fortunately, The rest of the trip to the PLC goes without incident. Yes, the parking itself is an ordeal (it is possible that a motorbike might have been destroyed while maneuvering the hoverbot into a parking location, but who is really counting?), but soon enough, the fans stop spinning and the hoverbot lurches to a rest.

"BING!" the hoverbot chimes. "Production, Logistics and Commissary - we have arrived at our destination. Please watch your step when deboarding, and have a nice day!"


******************************


You step inside the PLC to find yourselves at the end of a very long line - at least forty clones of various colors stand in your way, awaiting their own turns. The vast majority of the clones in line are infareds and reds, though you do spot three oranges and one yellow.

To your right is a long table with at least fifty types of forms arranged in various stacks, and each of them bear reference numbers and notations more bizarre than the last. Fifteen to twenty plastic pens are chained to this table, though it would appear that none of them actually work.

Several ceiling mounted monitor-lasers keep a careful eye on the clones inside the PLC. From time to time, one will train on a clone, cuaing everyone around that individually to subtly shrink away from the person in question.

The line moves excruciatingly slow, taking at least ten complete minute-cycles for each clone in line before the line shifts forward.

The lineup was, well, much longer than Artie had anticipated. He actually didn't expect there to be a lineup. If the whole sequence ran in even a limited parallel, then it'd be so much more efficient than just this mere ludicrous sequential queue that was in place. But, he was not the designer.

At this point, Artie was convinced that the Computer was not even the designer. It was probably modelled after a blueprint that was made by a person. Probably a communist, given that this was clearly sabotage. That was the only explanation for this inefficiency. He knew that the Computer would hate this inefficiency if the Computer was capable of such a thing. Naturally, being the better, the probability that the Computer was capable of such a thing was very slim. Still, it made Artie's blood boil.

Or was that just from the heat of so many clones in the same room at once?

In the end, it was irrelevant. This was inefficient. They were on a mission, and logically, a mission demanded efficiency. The mission was also supposed to be secret. Therefore, the use of the authority of being on a mission would be counterproductive to the end result and fail a prerequisite, thereby failing the mission altogether. There was only one alternative. Apoptosis.

Artie carefully watched, while waiting in line patiently. There was two things he was trying to see. The first thing was if he could get any indication of what happened for each person at the end of the lineup. The second thing was trying to see what it was that the automated lasers above found interesting about various people.

Brighte attempted to leave without bending over, but failed to do so. He had a very difficult, and painful, time getting off the ship. Standing in line, he painfully tried to stay concious. The friend computer obviously had a plan, and Brighte was more than happy to oblige. Even with all his injuries. Brighte wondered why the friend computer kept this place, even though it seemed ineffiecent Brighte rationalized that it must be less efficent to tear this place down and rebuild it, then keep it. Running. He waited patiently, pleased to do the friend computers treason. He only hoped that he would find out which of his team were treasonous. He needed to show the friend computer that he was better than his group. Brighte thoughts were abruptly cut off by. A burst of pain from his ribs. He still stood patiently in line though.

Steam settled the hoverbot as best he could, still wishfully hoping that he had been in control during the flight. Without any further distruction or injury, he saw it as a job well done and followed the rest of his team toward their destination.

This resulted in their quick arrival at an end of a very long line. Looking out at the slow progrssion, he could not help but enjoy the fact that everything was following the rules, though admittedly the system appeared to be out of date. Trusting that Friend Computer had his reasons, Steam was content to welocme the simplistic joy of line-endulging, until a thought crossed his mind.

He had lost track of the jackobot.

In fact, he could not recall any protests "observations of his piloting skills" from the small robot after the prior crash.

Displaying a broad smile as a nagging sensation began to settle, Steam tried to recall if the jackobot was mission critical. He had been busy piloting; perhaps one of the others had done something to the robot...!

Stepping out of the hoverbot, Slipp looked around the PLC. It was crowded, very crowded. Looking over at the stacks of paper spread across the large table. "It'd be so nice to go clean up this mess" Slipp thought to himself; "But Friend computer has a mission for us! Unless this is part of MY mission?" Slipp stood with his group constantly looking back towards the table and wondering if he should do something about it.