“What the-” Donnie asked as he looked down at the strange message on his phone. It was all in binary, but it was nonsense. He scanned the message again, translating it into English in his head, but it just translated into gibberish. If someone was trying to send him a message, then the message must have been corrupted somehow, because it didn’t say anything coherent. His brain quickly ran through all the ciphers he knew, but still, nothing.
It was past three in the morning, but Donnie couldn’t go to bed knowing the mystery of the text would be in the back of his mind. Donnie used his computer to track the source of the text, but to his confusion, he found that the text had come from his own computer. Had someone hacked into his system?
No, that was impossible. His computer had the best security on the planet; he should know, he built it himself.
Had it been one if his brothers pulling a prank? Donnie dismissed that idea immediately. There was no way any of them were tech-savvy enough to pull something like this off.
Donnie stared at the new texts in confusion. This time, the strange text was in English, but the source looked to be the same. He used his computer to track the texts, and sure enough, they originated from Donnie’s computer again. Confused, Donatello sent a message back.
There was no reply.
Donatello stared at the message for a long while; a feeling of dread began to consume his chest.
It… it couldn’t be….
Once again, there was no reply.
Hesitantly, Donatello looked over to where he kept the last piece of Metalhead that survived. It was as lifeless as the day it was blasted back through there portal. All Metalhead’s systems were damaged, his AI was destroyed. There was no way…
Donatello looked back at his phone. Maybe he could do a little more investigation.
Donatello ran a full diagnostic on the remaining pieces of Metalheads system. If there was a signal he was using to communicate through Donnie’s computer and into his phone, it was too weak or scrambled for Donatello to find it.
This time, Donatello decided to try something different. He would text Metalhead first.
Donatello clenched the phone tight in his trembling hands.
He had Metalhead back for just a few short seconds. He should have done something more. He should have figured out where the robot’s memories were being stored. He should have told Metalhead how much good he had done. He should have done something.
Donatello’s brain told him Metalhead’s last communication was nothing more than a ghost; the last of the robot’s programming telling him to report back to his creator. The AI chip had been destroyed. There was no way Metalhead could continue to think for himself.
Donatello closed his eyes, pushing back the tears that threatened to fall.
But no matter how tightly Dontallo closed his eyes, he could still see the last of Metalhead’s message. It was written in binary, but this time, the message was clear.
01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01110011 01100011 01100001 01110010 01100101 01100100