Loezen sighed, dropping into the metallic chair, resting his hand on his grimy face, black hair falling over his hazel eyes. "You have got to be kidding me," he muttered, glaring at the burning pile of scrap metal on the table in front of him. Every time he rewired his invention, about to complete step 964, the wires decided to not cooperate and give out on him. "I need to do this. The court expects this in two days, and I still have nothing to show for it except a scrap of burning metal. Burning metal that I had to take out a loan for." 

Living on Jaglit, the tenth and smallest planet in the solar system, had its perks. Well, had its perks for those with money. Loezen, wasn't one of those people. He had moved into an abandoned living quarter after getting his final yearly information download. He had nothing to live off except for the clothes on his back and a packet of powdered bread. So, he went on a search for a place to seek shelter, finding the house, still wired with an internal computer called Tabitha. Because Loezen favored learning of other planets, he was unable to get a job. He found it fascinating that people had to go to this place called school in order to learn, instead of having knowledge directly inserted into their heads. Because he had no job, Loezen had none of the usual robots to do his work, or the laser guns that most hunters now owned and loved to show off while hunting for porklins. He had himself and a few bucks he earned by giving tours of the commonly empty museum.

Loezen stood abruptly, kicking his table aggressively in complete frustration, immediately regretting it. "Ow," he winced, his voice jumping up an octave or two in pain. He hopped over to the chair and pulled off his flight boots to inspect his toes. Dark bruises covered the tip of his big toe, the corner of the nail digging deep, pushing out a few drops of blood. "Of course," Loezen sighed, grabbing some bruise cream and a blood sticker. He quickly applied them, watching the dark colors fade, and the blood retreat back into his pores.

After that was taken care of, Loezen sat back into the chair, staring at his notes, the words blurring together so that they looked like stripes on a zebra, the creature long extinct after the strip disease wiped them out on a strange planet called Earth. "Master Loezen needs to calm down," the robotic voice of his house computer, Tabitha, announced.

The crackling voice irritated Loezen's nerves, egging him into an even edgier state. However, he forced himself to shove down his rude remarks. "Thanks, Tabitha." Taking a few deep breaths, Loezen refocused on the notes before him. His eyes carefully scanning every direction, rereading it multiple times before carefully carrying out the step, slowly rebuilding the machine. When he reached step 963, he braided the red, blue, and green wire. Nothing happened and Loezen inserted the wires into the bolt. Finally, he completed step 964. No loud explosion, no sudden heat. He had done it. "Yes! Yes! Oh, my gosh! Finally! I did it!" Loezen exclaimed, jumping up. He ran to the other side of the workshop, his hands holding both sides of his head, eyes wide with wonder. "I can't believe this!" Right when Loezen went to grab his plyers, to continue, boom! The machine exploded and set itself on fire. The tool clattered out of Loezen's hand, onto the ground. His jaw was slack in exasperation. "Are you kidding me!" He yelled, throwing up his hands. At this rate, he would never have this finished. When he entered the court house, standing in front of those in power in their floating desks and chairs, he would have nothing to show.

No. That was just unacceptable. He had been raised better than this. He would not give up. He needed to show that he could build something of worth. So, he sat through the night, grabbing nuts and bolts, braiding wire and hammering the outer shell together. And when he got to step 964, the machine failed him. After a long night's work, Loezen finally fell asleep, head resting on the table before him. In this day in age, you would think someone would have already designed a robotic soldier.

Loezen jumped awake, his tired eyes blinking hazily through their clouded state. He was in his workshop. His mind flashed back to the machine that he had gotten farther in. "I completed step 964," he thought to himself. Looking at the table in front of him, he saw to scorched sheets of metal. "No I didn't," he mumbled helplessly. He made no move to continue the project. He only slumped back, staring grudgingly at the scraps. By ten o'clock that morning, Loezen figured he should probably at least try it again.

It was around noon when Loezen reached step 963. He braided together the red, blue, and black wires, preparing to insert them into the bolt for step 964. When he inserted them, nothing happened. Loezen didn't jump up in excitement this time. He patiently waited for the wires to blow up. But they didn't. "What?" Loezen wondered bewildered. He peered cautiously into the machine's depths, inspecting the wires. There. He had braided the black wire instead of the green one. Then why was nothing happening. He had been inserting the red, blue, and black wires like the internet had suggested. But that seemed to always fail. Was the internet wrong? No. It couldn't be. The internet was never wrong!

But here he was. A robot, managing to stay together. Hesitantly, Loezen proceeded to step 965. Nothing. Getting excited, Loezen scanned the notes, editing them according to his discovery. The internet could be wrong! Shocker! And he plowed ahead, mind whirring as he worked. He hadn't realized how late it had gotten until he went to grab a drink from the sink. He glanced outside and saw the moon residing high in the starry sky. He nearly spit out the water and he glanced at his watch. It was already 3 o'clock in the morning!

Loezen ran back to the work table and absorbed himself in his work. He needed to finish. Loezen scrambled helplessly around and screwed in new parts. The clock chimed five. "C'mon, c'mon, Loezen. Finish!" he growled to himself. And when the clock chimed six, he screwed in the last bolt. He stared at the newly finished warrior in shock. He had actually done it. He had created a robotic soldier. He was about to go wash the oil off his pale fingers when he jolted suddenly. What if it didn't work? The clock was ticking. He needed to get to the court house within the hour. He would hope for the best.

Loezen put on his new air of black jeans and a crisp white t-shirt and blue sneakers. His best, most expensive clothes. Horribly out of style clothes. But it would do. Running a brush through his hair, he took a deep breath. After humiliating himself horribly in front of the court house a grand six times, he didn't want to make it seven. This had to work.

Grabbing the robot, Loezen ran out of the house and down the streets, flooded with floating cars that ran on carbon dioxide. If only he had one of those, he might make it in time. But he didn't. Loezen ran to the other side of town, his robot growing heavier in his hands. The court house was in sight. So was the clock tower. And it read 6:56. He had four minutes to get into the court room. He put on an extra burst of speed, ignoring the bewildered looks of by passers. "Run, Loezen! Run!"

Loezen ran so close to the large, chestnut door he nearly ran into it. He skidded to a stop before hauling it open, groaning at the weight. Whoever was in charge clearly didn't want anyone to get in, or out, easily. When he finally opened it just enough to slip through, Loezen took off again, his shoes slamming against the marble floor. All the way to the back of the building he ran, until he ran straight into the open court house door, coming face to face with the court master.

"You would do best to watch where you are going, Mr. Loezen," he scolded in a monotonous voice.

"Of course, I apologize profusely," Loezen gasped out, through his ragged breaths. The rest of the court glared at him, before filing into the room, taking off on their jet shoes to fly up to their desks. Loezen stood below them, robot in hand.

"Please," the court master began. "explain that horrid monstrosity."

Loezen cleared his throat. "I have spent extensive hours researching the best ways to make this work. Here today I present to you, a robotic soldier." He heard the scoffing murmurs of the council. He bit his lip before continuing. "Instead of sending us Jaglins into wars with other planets, I say we send in robots. They will fight for us, guaranteeing no lost lives of Jaglins. This robot can have a programed mind of its own, or they can be mass controlled by a general speaking to them through this microphone. As you can see, the soldier is armed with four bullet projectors and four cutting devices. It is also protected with armor of the old earthlings, a beast called the buffalo had tough hides. So tough that not even the largest bullet could pierce it." Of course, Loezen knew that wasn't true. But the court didn't have to know that.

"Does this protocol work?" The court master questioned, leaning forward. Loezen swore he saw a spark of interest in his eyes.

"Of course," he lied. Loezen had no clue if his robot worked. "I will speak to it, and it will respond to my command." Loezen took a deep breath. "To anything out there listening, please let this work," Loezen prayed quietly before his voice rang out sharp and clear. "Arise," he commanded. And the robot did. He hid his shock surprisingly well. "Walk six steps left, then nine steps forward. Shoot at my command." The robot obeyed. "Fire." The robot fired the bullet projector and the bullet flew across the room. "Catch the bullet." Loezen took a leap of faith on that one. He had no idea if the robot could move like that. But it did. And the bullet lodged itself safely in the buffalo clad hand of the robot.

"Incredible!" The court master applauded. "We'll take it!" The court master looked ecstatic. Then a member of the court house approached him, whispering something into his ear. "Oh. Of course, Mr. Loezen, what do you call this thing?" Of course, he had forgotten a name. He had successfully created a worthy robotic soldier, and he didn't have a bloody name for it. He dug around his brain for something. Anything. Then, it hit him like a bullet.

"I call it the Warriorpunk," Loezen stated. He liked the sound of that. His robotic, unjaglin soldier, called a Warriorpunk.