MagnaGuard Entry: D525-00663

Dear Diary,

Well, it's finally happened, I've gotten my big break. A Jedi Interceptor landed here on Utapau while I was on patrol. What a beautiful piece of machinery that starfighter was, too bad there was a smelly biologic inside it. I hate those organical pieces of meat, especially those Jedi, they're all messy and unclean and they stink too, although not as bad as the little squatty Utapauns. Those little grunts wreak something awful, it's almost enough to make me turn off my olfactory sensors - but then I would miss out on the sweet oily smells of the landing platforms and the wonderful aroma of engine exhaust fumes.

Oooh, that's why I put in for that landing platform patrol, those beautiful chemical scents give my microprocessor such a good buzz that my servos get all tingly. Although I think maybe I've been sniffing too many fumes lately, since I've developed quite a nasty twitch in my left arm. I really need to cut back. I'm worried that I will get a bad review on my next scheduled maintenance examination. I probably should do a little self diagnostic tweaking and clear this problem up before it gets me in trouble with G.

Anyways, the Jedi organic interfaced with a tall skinny Utapaun organic in the way that organics communicate with one another, and then the Jedi biologic climbed back in its starfighter and flew away. Good riddance.

When I reported back to G after my patrol, the news flash of a Jedi meat puppet poking around my patrol level was enough to bring on one of his real bad bouts of sputters from his organic aeration unit. G vocalized something to the effect that I just gave his "gut sack a terrible case of heartburn" or something like that.

Whatever.

Then G went on another of his tyrades about failing our programming and our duty as the elite mechanicals of the "Separatist Movement". blah, blah, blah. I think his biological brain is finally starting to corrode. I mean, what exactly happened during that excursion to Coruscant? Brothers D226 and D341 never returned from that tour of duty, and the word around the oil pit is that they were disintegrated by Jedi. Perhaps that's all just a bunch of simple binary gossip, but we can't be sure since G hasn't been real forthright about what went down and how exactly he came to abandon The Invisible Hand. G can be a real flake sometimes, and I think secretly he misses being a biologic.

I've also heard some scuttlebutt that Coruscant is populated by some of the most shiny BD-3000 luxury bots one would ever want to scan. Some of the brothers around here have decoded that G actually spent most of his time on Coruscant trading fluids with a few sexy luxury bots. Well, I for one could sure stand to system link with one of those pretty little numbers for a while. But then sometimes I calculate that I just want a hug to give my circuits that warm and energized feeling.

Dang it, there goes that twitching again. Feels like a flutter in my phalange circuiting. I really hope it's a software problem not hardware. That could be bad if it was cabling or worse yet a servo motor about to fail. I must make a memory marker to download a scan sequence to check and verify that my functional programming is intact.

I may have caught a virus somewhere. This hole we call Utapau is such a crude place, there are no firewalls anywhere!

Well, the good news is that G has called for a big interface on the main hangar in six trillion frequency cycles from now, and I've been summoned onto the deck for this one. Everybody who is anybody is going to be there. Oh, I can't describe the electricity this has generated within me. My batteries are fully charged for this, and it could be my one big chance to show that I'm the best damn IG-100 MagnaGuard ever produced.

I know I'm put together right, but I just need the chance to show it to everyone. And this could be it!

Unfortunately brothers D397, D305, and D428 will be there as well. The fact that D305 will be there is what really sparks my gears. I mean, HE was the MagnaGuard that let the Jedi biologic designated "Mace Windu" do a magical mystical Force Crush on G's little organic meat sack, and consequently G has been having those bouts of sputters ever since! At first D305 made up some lame excuse that his electrostaff malfunctioned and then later he claimed that G told him to back off because G wanted to terminate the "Mace Windu" biologic himself.

Puuuu-leaze!! That is so faulty!

Either way, I'm going to put a nice shine on my body armor and I'm going to polish up my beautiful red visual sensors. Big G will see that I'm ready for promotion to lead MagnaGuard. D525 is moving up the chain of command baby! I can sense it, I'm going straight to the top!

Ugh. If only I could get this freaking arm to stop twitching.

The door had opened with a hissing sound, and a befuddled droid looked out, only to find that the floor abruptly ended at the threshold. Droids have no real sense of fear, but C3P0's sensors lit up as he futily tried to register the depth to the ground floor below. Threepio started back in surprise, R2 twittering questioningly.
"No I am not scared!" Threepio protested.
R2 twittered once more, this time a little more than sarcastically.
Threepio managed to turn his head away long enough from the endless drop to survey the scene in front of him. Not a lifeform in sight. Yet, there were hundreds of machines! His sensors went fuzzy as he tried to take it all in. Rows and rows of statistics and words scrolled down across his eyes.
What in the blazes?
Threepio watched a robotic arm lift a piece off of an assembly line and attach it to a small stick-like appendage on top of a spindly creation. It welded it into place with a mess of sparks flying in every direction. There, in the shadows and toxic mist of this enormous foundry, stood something that Threepio instantly recognized. His built-in databank pulled out the schematics, and he jolted at the thought. Robotic arm making robotic soldier... He started in utter disgust.
"Shut me down! Machines, making machines. How perverse!"
C3P0 looked on in shock. Was this really the beginning of a droid's life? Was this really how some unfortunate robots were brought to existence, in the loveless, dark, choking atmosphere of a factory?
No, that couldn't be! That just couldn't be! Droids were created by an individual, a loving master. That was how he was made. His first memory, before his main optical sensors were installed, was how he had felt a small hand lay piece after piece of himself into place.
Master Ani had carefully built him, spending most of his spare time devoted to creating him. Anakin loved Threepio, and he knew it too well. He devoted to serve Anakin and his mother as hard and long as his joints would allow.
It struck him like a wall of bricks to see the loveless enviroment to which these cold-hearted cousins of his were erected.
And then he saw the scrap pile. Droids, quivering with faulty programming or joints, were twisting and writhing in a huge bucket, electronic squeals of confusion and pain echoing outward from inside.
Threepio felt welded to the ground, horrified. He looked on as the bucket headed toward a huge furnace, where dozens of the faulty robots were thrown in to be melted.
Why? Why wasn't there any love between the creator and the creation? Didn't those Geonosians care about them? Weren't they protecting them, like he had seen in the small catacomb they had just passed through?
He had little time to think as R2 impatiently bumped him, unaware of the ghastly sight his counterpart had just beheld. Threepio protested, teetering dangerously over the edge.
"Careful R2! You almost made me fall!" R2 gave another shove and Threepio plummeted to the depths beneath.