Log Title: Personal Log: Musings on History and Future
Characters: Pile-Up
Location: Cybertron
Date: February 10, 2024
TP: Non-TP
Summary: Pile-Up has thoughts and musings, a personal log.
As logged by Pile-Up
Humans say that the path to Hell is paved with good intentions. Good intentions and corrupted idealism have been our curse for millions of years. What is worse is that it has never been our own. I have been among us since the very beginning. Before that beginning, truly. While some know, many are ignorant that I was once merely a designator number 1005. A combat and field retrieval drone for Megatron's Decepticon legions.
Unaware that I was a tool, with only the most basic of cores that let me be aware that I should feel, Never quite grasping it. Like reaching for an energon cube, but it continually drifts outside of reach. Repaired numerus times, slaying the wounded and hauling them back for parts. A soldier without conscious or real consciousness from the very beginning. To be taken in by those who had fled the Quintesson occupations. The eldest of us were of those refugees.
Vidicon, among some of the early rebels to tthe Decepticon 'cause', working with Benificense and others of like mind collected us. The conscious, the drone, the slave and the slayers who wanted no further taint to their beings. No more war. No more for those denied a proper life. No more of being pawns for the Primes, the City Lords, the gangs, the warlords. An escape from a life where survival was servitude. Even if it meant that we go out beyond the colonies, beyond the sight of the Quintessons. Beyond the purview of Primus's children to where we could exist.
I came online, again, during the journey. One of dozens retrofitted with a full lasercore that allowed my spark its full potential. Accessing my field-medical subroutines. Attempting to cast off the need for combat protocols in hopes that I never need them again. A foolish hope as the crossing was perilous. Piracy. Hostile worlds. Stepping stones in what was despaired as a fruitless, pointless, venture where we wondered when we would, at last, fall. Vagabonds having to utilize the remains of our fallen and what material we could scrounge along the way to keep ourselves functioning. Each day a little more desperate and with it our hope growing a little stronger. Our camraderie with our fellow former Decepticons, Autobots and 'Neutrals' expanding. The human term is family, and it is more apt because a phrase in Earth's late 20th century was 'Family is what you make, not what you were born to.' We rose from many, we would march, and perhaps even fail, as one.
When we found our utiopia we knew no one would ever want it. A world that was little more than a contiental shelf gathered around a single powersource that would hold it together. That created a field that would gather more. A planet of junk where we would be free.
There are always growing pains. These events help cultivate a culture. There were many of us, from different walks. Ideaologies will always clash once bereft of an initial unifying point. Like survival.
Vorns where, once we were safe, we naturally factionalized. Conflicts arose, as is natural. Skirmishes and boundaries as well as borders that would lead to the rise of the warriors, the projectors, the explorers. We intermingled, we clung to the familiar. Decepticons. Autobots. Others. The old arguments and the concerns of the Requium Blaster. Who should be in control, should anyone?
Alpha Trion and Benificense stole choice from us. With a quill.
Rather than allow us the time to establish our own way, our history was decided for us. To protect something from knowledge and making us the unwitting caretakers of a secret that would become the destruction of the home we spent lives finding. We all stood as this meddling Alpha, at Benificense's agreement and the horrr as well as protest of those others present took out that quill and re-wrote us. Wiped our minds. Wiped our choice and our past. Forced our future.
We were made slaves, but were 'blissfully' unaware of the nightmare forced onto us. Would we be the people we are today? Yes? No? It's a pointless exercise to explore it. We had our choices stolen. Set out like toys on a shelf. Set out to be made out as pitiable, pathetic, 'silly' things because we absorbed the entertainment communications that drifted on rogue transmission waves. Built a society on what we felt when we listened and watched.
Four million years of drifting. Xenophobic because Alpha Trion made us so. Insular because we were written to be so. A backwater because a 'benevolent tyrant' decided we should be, to protect his great secret that he felt was too powerful for 'anyone to decide on or control'. Except for him. Except for an outsider who destroyed us, remade us as he wanted and left for Cybertron while we were made to be his mockable stewards.
The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Or perhaps better by the arrogant manipulation of a villain who feels he is the hero. If anything of absorbing the most influential entertainment we'd ever observed could teach us, Earth taught us the most dangerous villains are the monsters who think they're in the right and doing things for the betterment they think they're bringing others. Benificense was complicit. He cannot lead. He may say he has our best interests in mind. But he agreed with Alpha Trion. He collaborated and stole our freedom.
In the vorn before our shackling I, with others, sought to bridge gaps. Yes, Pile-Up - Decepticon Field Combat Drone 1005; whose spark could be called 'as dark and crimson as a Seeker's' once I was granted my personal sentience, looked on my memories before I could remember and saw it was a dark world indeed. And if others want to doubt my intentions I need only point to figures like Jetfire; who had been of the same people. Before he became an Autobot. I fought with my fellows, when I had to. I sued for peace, for concordance, accord. We had headway. We had stumbles. Lost ground in places, gained it in others. Perhaps our future would become like Cybertron's. Maybe we would be like we are today.
We can never know.
I don't seek to lead our people because I feel I'm stronger, like I am most capable, because I am the most logical choice. I seek to lead our people because I sought unification, because I question my ability to do so. My worries I will lead us astray which also drives me to check myself, welcome my fellow Junkions to question me. I accept we will stumble. But I refuse to let our path be written by outsiders with a stroke of cosmic 'magic' that dictates who we are.
Maybe we would have sided with the Autobts. Maybe the Decepticons. Maybe we would have denied both and maintained our own. Perhaps things may have turned as they presently are. Without the lies. I want to lead my people into a future that is ours, because I love them. I fear for them. When I was my own, I was a medical unit. A doctor. I sought to heal and when our memories were stolen I became one of the Salvagers, going into the infinite to bring home fuel, materials, information. To keep us alive. Like the other Salvagers.
I accept if I am rejected by my people. If they cling to Benin. If they take under Wreck-Gar as he led us for so long.
I will still try all the same.