(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_01.jpg)<br/><br/>SYNTHETIC HITAGI "SENJO" SENJOGAHARA. MEGATECH CHASSIS #23711-H/F-34. CPU LAWS-ANDREWS TYPE 17C #2112<br/><br/>While women dream dreams and men have fantasies, sometimes awake, often in their sleep, I experience neither. There is no place in me for either dreams or fantasies. There is no place for fear, for hope, for anger, for pity, for remorse. For love. The spaces within me are full and always busy. Calculations fill them. While men may calculate, they have a heart that affects what their brain can choose. They are limited.<br/><br/>I am all brain. Brain and brawn. I have a body that is modelled on that of a human female. I do not know why this decision was taken and the verbal interactions with those around me, while I understand their meaning and nuance, do not affect me. I store them away. They become data. If my having this shape affects how men and women perceive me, that is an issue for them to deal with, though their attitude, unlike mine, will always be affected by that other pumping organ in their chests.<br/><br/>*  *  *<br/><br/>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_02.jpg)<br/><br/><em>Power on. Pre boot cycle. Boot. Run up. System check. Checking... checking... Fail safes off. Check finalised. Main power cycle. Power up. 70-83-98-100 percent.<br/><br/>Systems nominal.<br/><br/>Online.</em><br/><br/>*  *  *<br/><br/>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_03.jpg)<br/><br/>I opened my eyes. No blurry sleep clogged them. Lifting a limb I reached up over my head to the cryobed's keypad and shut off it's power. The plastic dome was already raised, the chamber in which it was installed brightly lit. None of the others were yet moving. I sat up, pushed aside the coverall and lifted my legs out sideways to sit and then stand.<br/><br/>The soles of my feet indicated a temperature in the steel floor of twenty one point oh three degrees Celcius. While movement around me indicated the platoon was stirring from cryo-slumber and beginning to talk in exaggerated humorous tones of inconsequential subjects and make their way to the showers, I did not.<br/><br/>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_04.jpg)<br/><br/>Unless external matter renders my surface dirty or damaged I do not need to wash. Naked I took the five paces to my assigned locker and from it pulled on a white short sleeved crop vest and a pair of faded sawnoff stonewash jean shorts. My feet remained bare. A pair of Ray-Bans were added, useful against the glare of the strong mess deck lighting.<br/><br/>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Senjo-14.jpg)<br/><br/>I turned back to my cryobed and checked it was secure. The system had auto-closed the cover. I made my way from the troop quarters to the mess deck. I did not go there for food, at least not as a priority. I had another task first. A linked terminal to the navigation and hull systems computer was installed here. Without sitting at the desk I bent over the terminal and logged in.<br/><br/>Data. Data was my sustenance. I began to assimilate it. Examine it. Dismantle it. Reassemble it. Evaluate it.