“Yesterday, The Author found his one true creation inside of Main engineering. TR-17. Trails, is what we called him. The Author carried him into the console room and I about cried. This was our child, made with our love and now is rusting and offline in front of our very eyes. The Author focused his tears away for the moment to open his chest plate to check his systems. The best news we’ve had in years came when we found out that his core software was still intact. Maybe, just maybe he recorded what happened to us during the temporal event.”
The Robot laid up against the secondary console room walls in the corner of the room. Surrounded by tools and a computer monitor giving a read out of any Positronic signals coming from his brain.
“Look, we don’t have the power, nor the equipment to fix him. What we can do, is keep him in an electronic coma until we can.” This was not the thing she needed to hear.