Caedechron

Miscellaneous Notes:

Birth Order: Only child.
Land of Origin: Glasgow, Scotland.
Childhood Environment: Impoverished, Home-schooled Child Violin Prodigy.
Social/Economic Background: Destitute artist, flutist, and their son, living in a 2 bedroom apartment in the outskirts of Glasgow. Got a scholarship to Century Station to attend Copernicus University.
When Extraordinary Abilities First Manifested: About the time he died.

Character Bio:

The day is Friday March 22nd, the year 2024.  Today is the day I died.

—Ok, just on a side note, I am SO GLAD I FINALLY GOT TO SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT! It’s so mysterious and foreboding.  But also, THIS SUCKS! Anyway, back to my wonderfully dramatic and tragic tale.  If you are too heartless to listen to it, I’ve thrown in a TL;DR for you at the end… Pig.

I died without justice, and I hope to mete it out through my new life as a pile of assorted robotic parts in a junk bin.  Those that killed me were another’s tools, and he calls them his “Troubleshooters,” because he is painfully cliche as an evil overlord and criminal mastermind.  He’s also my boss, Urien Daniel’s, secret boss. I know this because, as luck would have it, I stumbled upon secret documents. Of course I did! Why wouldn’t I? It’s like all of the super villains in the universe are 2D characters in a bad book, and leave all of the evidence of their crimes in the paths of the naive Dudley Dorights of their organization.  Then, like a panicked little rabbit, what did I do? I called the cops of course! Why would I call the cops? Because I’m stupid. Monumentally so.

I wasn’t always this dumb.  I swear! I started life as a precocious, tenacious little snot-rag in Glasgow, Scotland.  Surprising, I know, given I don’t have an accent, but it’s true nonetheless. A 9th chair Flutist by the name of Eigyr Broderick married a visionary, but undiscovered, artist by the name of Gwydion Govannon.  Their pastor was Mark Osborn of Edinburgh’s First Methodist Congregation of the Universal Epistle of Luther, if you want to know – since I’m giving out all of the possible security answers as I can. They had me barely ten months later, being devout Christians and all, and we lived as happily as any poor family can.  Shortly after, my mother contracted Ovarian Cancer, and battled it the rest of her life, which turned out to be fifteen more years.

During that time, I learned everything I could.  I saw everything there was to see for a kid in the cultural epicenter of Scotland – and there was a lot.  I visited museums, musicals, operas, plays, art exhibitions, concerts, symphonies, orchestras, beat poetry nights at coffee shops, homeless people screaming in the park… You get the picture.  I showed unusual promise on the Violin, and played in a youth symphony. And most important of all, I was homeschooled by our elderly neighbor Dr. Ferrin Holdaway. He was a retired fossil who used to teach Rhetoric and Robotics at… some University somewhere… Hold on, what was the name?  Hmm… Uh… crap. I shouldn’t be losing memories like this… I’ll have to run a few diags on my drives.

So anyway, Dr Holdaway taught me that there was more to life than art, and more to robotics than cold machinery.  He melded the two for me in a way that I began to dream like I had never dreamed before. I also started to think that I could help my mother beat her cancer, but it won out a few months before I was accepted to Copernicus University to try.

Eight years of school and internships later, I was hired on as a Robotics Engineer and Programmer at Universal Synthetics & Robotics.   I thought it was a dream job! I worked alone in my little basement, played all of the video games I wanted, took remote tours of the wonders of the world while testing drones, and took robot parts out of the garbage chute when no one was looking.  I thought I had hit it big! Until I was looking for a report on Subliminal Illuminati Imagery in Media and Its Effects on Artificial Intelligence Cognitive Networks, and I stumbled upon an email’s ghost-image, sent by a spoofed account to Urien Daniels, the CEO of USR , with the subject line “Re: C0unci1 Adj3nd@ & St4tu5.”  Within the coded .txt attachment were hexadecimal timestamps that lined up with business trips my boss went on. Three coincided with crimes committed against non-Council-of-Industry-affiliated-businesses by advanced-robotics-aided criminals. (Boolean Query, you are my favorite!) So, like I said, I called the cops to schedule an interview with a CSPD Detective.

That was four hours ago.  Three hours and Fourty-Six minutes ago the motion-sensor cameras I stationed in the hallways leading to my lab woke my monitors up with video of two men holding silenced pistols walking purposefully down the hall.  Three hours and Fourty-Three minutes ago I attached the Cerebral Implant to the base of my skull and transferred my intelligence into the unfinished robot body I had stashed away in my closet at home.  Three Hours and Fourty-Two Minutes and Fifty-Eight Seconds ago my head was remodeled to have an open floor plan.

I said that my Robot Body wasn’t complete, and I wasn’t meaning it in the ‘I’m really proud of what I made, and I’m just being modest and coy’ kind of way.  I meant it in the ‘There was barely enough there to not die trapped in a useless metal coffin’ kind of way. I had hooked up the head, the Transferred Intelligence chassis, some of the sensors, two articulated supplementary arms, and a Jet Pack before I hopped in and left my perfectly good body behind.  The rest was in a bin in my garage. So, as you can possibly picture, I dragged myself through my company-paid-for condo using ¾ size arms, trailing as-of-yet superfluous hydraulics tubes and electrical wires like a techno-zombie. Three Hours Later I finished the last bits of my legs, lucky the cleaners hadn’t been through to destroy all evidence of me from my home, and booked it out of there.

And that is when I contacted an old friend, Jake Thompson, to tell him what I knew.

—TL;DR