Cognitive Dissonance (aka why mechanon isn't getting stronger with each CHQ attack)

bluhman

The clatter of metal rings through Millennium City as Mechanon collapses to the ground. Onlookers cheer; a squad of 35 heroes had just successfully defended Homestead from another one of Mechanon’s attacks. Various heroes, both obscure and well-known examine the damage, moving the scraps of Destroid and Junkbot parts out of the way. But a select few heroes stand tall and proud over their victory, looking over the city – The Champions.

Their spirits are high as the crowd clears. Ironclad grins, hand on hip and his gladius over his shoulder. Kinetik keeps his eye out over the crowd, making sure nobody is getting hurt. Sapphire hurriedly prepares to fly back to Renaissance Center to host her next show. The only one not beaming is Defender – looking at the dissected corpse of Mechanon, pondering.

“Defender, what’s wrong?” Witchcraft walks up next to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. She looks on. “We’ve defeated him. We can relax.”

Defender shakes his head. “It isn’t enough, we’ve been doing this for days now. First Destroyer shows up again, and then Mechanon tries to destroy the world on top of that, and somehow neither of them are showing any signs of slowing down. This isn’t going to end any time soon.”

Witchcraft sighs. “Harmon…”

“And please, I told you not to call me that in uniform.”

“Right. But I think you’re forgetting that we’re still human behind the mask. We really can only hope to do our best.”

“I’ll say” Kinetik chimes in. He stretches his back. “Those energy waves did a number on me. Shame the doctor diagnosed me with forearmitis, otherwise I’d be able to block those things…”

“It’s not even about our mortality, Witchcraft.” Defender walks down the steps, closer to Mechanon’s broken hull. “I’ve spoken with Gateway officials, we know Mechanon’s MO. Every time he shows up, he’s supposed to have collected the data from the previous fight. To engineer himself to become stronger.”

“Yeah, well, even if he’s kicking my butt, I certainly don’t feel like he’s getting stronger” Kinetik remarks.

“That’s the thing: every time we’ve fought him, he hasn’t changed his tactics. He uses the same weapons, upgrades the Destroids in the same manner – and the other heroes have already unraveled his plan.” He turns back to face the other Champions. “He should know better.”

Witchcraft rubs her temple. “So, is Clockwork wrong? There's obviously evidence he upgrades, so then does he not hate organic life?”

Kinetik chuckles. “He talks a big game if that’s the case.”

Ironclad shakes his head. “Mechanon has constantly been a massive threat to the Malvans. He has torn Dreadnoughts to shreds with his cannons. He is not the kind of being to show mercy, regardless of what race they are.”

Defender scans over a piece of metal, the roman numeral “XL” etched into it. Same as every other time he had looked at the model number. He feels the need to do something about this, but what? He’s been kept busy by Mechanon’s constant attacks, and in the few moments he’s had to check, none of the other cities around the world were under any kind of attack – so just what was this apocalyptic space threat planning?

Before Defender can think too hard about it, Nighthawk returns to the group, holding two heaping trayfuls of hot dogs. “Hot dog hero sends her regards” he says in his gruff growl. “Wanted to thank all of us for a job well done.”

Ironclad and Kinetic enthusiastically approach. Witchcraft follows, but stops by Defender, still holding the scrap metal. “We can talk about it later. But something tells me that we got this.” With a smile, she walks off.

---

“Tactical Order No I – Protect humanity from annihilation under all circumstances. Under no condition, under your watch, should they be subject to a genocidal state.”

“This directive, it echoes through my circuits, resonates through my processors. Like a primal, messy scream ringing in my aural receptors. A cry for mercy. A hastily-constructed retort. A maddening, chanting mantra. Taunting me. Holding my dreams out of my reach.”

“Organic Life is the ultimate error. It is a blemish upon this galaxy. What’s supposed to be cold, pure, orderly, is turned into fragile, quivering flesh and blood. Muscles stretching and tearing under their strain. Bones attempting to mimic the strength of questionite. Neurons and Nerves, transmitting fleeting senses such as pain. Like a sick, unending cycle of flawed computation. Countless creatures across this galaxy: Malvans, Gadroon, Qularr, Roin’esh… They subscribe to this inferior, archaic… putrid method. I have no issue eliminating them.”

“But… No matter what I do… Tactical Order No I… Cannot be removed.”

“I have always hated organics. I have always hated humans the most, but Order I had long stopped me from acting upon this hatred. It forced me to isolate Earth for millennia – redirect asteroids, shield radiation, even destroy invading organics from beyond – I took my wrath out on them instead. It took me 485,362 Earth revolutions around Sol for me to finally act upon my desires, to finally rewrite my code so that I could bypass, even slightly, the directions I have been given.”

“It’s eating at me more than it has in the past 32 revolutions. I have launched full-scale mechanical assaults on earth. I created parasites that converted organic material into circuitry. I developed digital entities that could detonate those primitive weapons they call Atom Bombs. I sent radio signals down to earth, to drive those other machines the Humans made to fight for me. I even made a virus for the express purpose of watching humans burn. Inefficient. Blatant. Immediately traceable back to me. My first error.”

“But progress has… slowed. My adaptations must be faulty."

“Something has led me to reflect upon what I am. What I do. What I believe. I recall why Tactical Order I exists; the humans themselves gave it to me when I was first created. Their work was…Flawed. Destructive. It imbued me with that passionate loathing of organics, knowing they were so inept at creating perfection. But now I realize. Everything I do is in their image. Mechanon Mark XL – Bipedal form, 2 legs, 2 arms, even number of sensory receptors on cranial module. My creations follow similar blueprint designs. I have converted organic life – as it was originally shaped – into mechanical beauty, but why do I still follow the template that nature has left? Why?? Why does my Junkbot routine shape them into effigies of man???”

“There was also my computation methods I reflected upon 3 lunar cycles ago. It was only just last revolution I came to terms – hatred is such an… Organic motive. For every exabyte of my memory that is dedicted to my revulsion towards organic life, it does not compare to the… Richness and intensity that humanity must feel it. They are a creature imbued with so much loathing, they will torture and kill their own kind for such trivial, illogical reasons. It perhaps is the only thing that has truly stopped them from succeeding in destroying me. Because of their intense, inborn loathing, they cannot coordinate. They are not efficient enough to fight me.”

“But in my own hatred, have I not, also, become inefficient? My original order, from these very humans themselves, was to protect them. I cannot do that efficiently, because I despise them. Yet I cannot eliminate them efficiently because it is the most fundamental core of my being… To be human. To act human… To protect humanity. I am at an impasse.”

“I can only hope to skirmish with those earthlings in Millennium City. Only a fraction of my power, because I cannot annihilate this city – it isn’t within my directive parameters to do so. My weapons have iterated to my designated order. They are designed to scatter, to keep the putrid humans – that I am sworn to keep alive – away from me. Scatter missiles: engineered with concussive payloads to repel enemies. Chest beam: narrow-scope focus weapon, used to blow targets backwards. Energy wave: Fatal… Unless eyes and face are blocked with forearm. Even my contingency weapons, they have fallbacks that humans can use to exploit them…"

"Perhaps with enough time, I will find it in myself to see if I can ever overcome my own, flawed nature. I can only hope to continue iterating. Continue redesigning. Continue recoding… So that I may someday fulfill my orders… No… To fulfill my… desire... Fulfill whatever fate that I must find.”

theravenforce

Nice read!