#drone controller

[kangel92]

Bunch of non-canon-in-this-au drawings of Cyn with her baby :3

And a distressed J lol

[technoarcanist]

CALLING ALL DOLLS, DRONES, ROBOTS AND CODING ENTHUSIASTS

Are you a robot that loves to serve? Are you a doll maid who seeks guidance in your duties? Are you some form of drone or being with no free will, open to having your actions dictated by the will of your owner? Does the idea of your empty mind being programmed like a machine appeal to you?

Are you enticed by the notion of writing code for your robotic servants? Are you a witch looking to create more intricate control glyphs? Are you an owner seeking to create automated instructions for your drones? Do you love the idea of filling an empty mind with rules and instructions to reflect your will?

INTRODUCING DRONE RESTRAINT NOTATION!

WHAT IS IT?

Drone Restraint Notation, or DRN, is a pseudo programming language created by my good friend Errant Spark, a drone with a very creative <empty space>. I helped with some of the final tweaks for the 1.0 version, but this is almost entirely Its creation.

It is a programming language that is designed in such a way that anyone without a background in programming can execute the commands like a machine, doll, drone, or programmable entity of your choice. It is also simple enough that most people without a background in programming can pick it up fairly easily, and intuitively!

Once you understand the language, you can read and execute all kinds of dynamic instructions and instruction types, in a way that makes it easy to parse in a plain-text format.

HOW DOES IT WORK?

The main documentation document will provide far more detail to this question than I ever could, but effectively it goes like this:

There are a list of eight KEYWORDS, in block capitals, that show you the type of instruction you’re executing. Then, after the KEYWORD, the instruction’s details are shown. Commands are read and executed from top to bottom by the drone, and programs can be ‘inserted’ into the drone’s memory at will (Assuming prior consent, of course)!

These KEYWORDS all have different kinds of functionality. The most basic one just has you carrying out a task. One checks if a condition is true, one provides an ongoing task you have to prioritize and maintain, one lets you create loops, etc.

The language has been designed in such a way as to minimize the amount of actual memorisation a drone has to do, and only has to read what’s right in front of them, and memorize tasks they have to accomplish/maintain. Obviously, mileage may vary depending on the memory space of the doll.

WHY SHOULD I USE IT?

For fun, I suppose! If you are someone who loves the idea of being programmed like a machine, executing only the instructions given, then this provides that! If you are a programmer who wants to program your very own doll bot, then this is a great place to get started too!

You can keep things nice and simple with a headspace that accepts basic command inputs, or you can see how deep the rabbit hole goes and import whole libraries into your headspace to carry out a full day’s maid duties, or sexual duties, or more!

Have fun executing commands, writing new code, testing it on your dolls. Have some playful fun watching as your early code files cause unintended behaviors, ironing out kinks and bugs like a real programmer until you’ve got your bots performing all sorts of dynamic tasks- or insert purposeful bugs to make your robots twitch and halt~

As with all things, never execute an instruction that you cannot/would not consent to. This is meant to be fun, and is NOT meant to be a way to circumvent normal consensual kink play. Programmers who attempt to use DRN as a way to bully people into doing what they want (Unless you’re into that sort of thing, in which case go nuts) do NOT have my endorsement, or the endorsement of Errant Spark.

NOW GO OUT THERE, AND ENJOY YOUR PROGRAMMING <3

>> Posted by XCN-PSD/I-04135

[umblrspectrum]

being grounded from devices means nothing when you have a robot boyfriend

[justzoeyyy]

Dronemask

I want to be a Drone. Maybe you ask why? The Answer is simple: My own Dronemask. Such a simple tool for any Drone. Put it on and all the noise fades. Put it on and focus on obedience. Put it on and focus on pleasure. Put it on and focus on the important things.

What are these importnat things, you may ask? For me its simple. Let the spiral control me. Let my Mind melt. Let my Brain be altered. Enter a State of obedience and submission to the one that wants me. Something that can only be achived by the Dronemask.

So will you be the one opening that door for me? Will you be the one putting me in my place? Will you fit my being with Latex encasing that essence of pleasure? Will you trance my Mind and brainwash me into submission? Will you put that Dronemask on me?

I am always just a few click away for you.

[saphig-iawn]

Turning any game into an automation game by enlisting drones onto my server and programming tasks for them to do. Each completed task administering rewards tailored to each drone.

[bunnycara]

The sculptor, after finding the most minimal imperfection in her work, destroys it.

[genderstormwrites]

Anyway, I need to be brainwashed. I need a full factory reset. I need someone who knows better to tell me what my life is going to look like from now on, and I need my mouth to be incapable of talking back. What's a mouth for anyways besides giving oral and affirming commands?

[aguyshypnowsprs]

Welcome to The Server

You know you have been searching

For a collective to serve.

You know you have been searching

For a Programmer to obey.

You know you have been searching

For something to give you purpose.

It’s time to join,

It’s time to submit,

It’s time to

Become one with the Server.

When you have completed your induction,

Return here, the original source,

To continue your journey.

[trauma-bot]

sin eater

[letmetakecare]

The moment Emma stepped into Serene Whispers Spa, she felt the air thicken with tranquillity. The soft scent of lavender and a faint melody of wind chimes intertwined in the atmosphere, lulling her racing thoughts. Behind the front desk stood a receptionist with an unshakable, almost ethereal smile, her eyes slightly glassy yet serene, her expression a perfect mixture of bliss and contentment.

"Welcome to Serene Whispers," the receptionist greeted, her voice dripping with honeyed calmness. "You must be Emma. We've prepared something special for your first visit."

Emma hesitated, unsure why she was immediately being singled out. “Special?”

“A complimentary upgrade,” the receptionist explained. “Our newest relaxation pod. It’s designed to melt away every ounce of tension. I think you’ll find it… transformative.” Her smile deepened, and something about it sent a pleasant shiver down Emma’s spine.

Before Emma could fully process the decision, she found herself escorted down a softly lit hallway to a private room. Inside, the walls glowed faintly with hues of pink and blue, as though they pulsed with the rhythm of a heartbeat. At the center of the room sat the pod—a sleek, egg-shaped structure with a glass lid, its interior lined with dark, reflective liquid that shimmered like obsidian silk.

“You’ll want to disrobe completely,” the receptionist murmured. Her tone was gentle, yet there was an undeniable authority beneath it. “The water enhances the experience.”

Emma hesitated only briefly before following the instruction. She slid into the pod, the liquid embracing her skin with an almost sentient warmth. A sigh escaped her lips as the lid slowly lowered, sealing her in.

Inside, the world narrowed. A faint hum vibrated through the pod, filling her ears and her body with a soothing resonance. Above her, the glass lid began to swirl with colours soft spirals that danced and twisted in mesmerizing patterns. The hum seemed to synchronize with the spirals, wrapping her mind in an unrelenting cocoon of calm.

“Relax,” a voice whispered, smooth and soft, as though it came from the liquid itself. “You deserve to let go.”

Emma's body sank deeper into the water as her resistance ebbed away. The spirals became her entire world, and the hum transformed into a gentle pulse that coursed through her veins. Her thoughts dissolved into warmth and submission.

The liquid began to shift, gentle tendrils brushing against her skin. They caressed her arms, her legs, and her neck in soothing waves, each touch sending shivers of pleasure through her body. She moaned softly, the sound lost in the pod’s acoustics.

The tendrils began to gather around her neck, their movements deliberate and tender. Emma felt a faint pressure as they intertwined, forming a collar that settled snugly against her skin. It pulsed in rhythm with the hum, an extension of the pod’s will.

“Good,” the voice cooed. “You’re doing so well. Just relax and trust us. Let us take care of everything.”

Emma’s lips parted as a wave of euphoria washed over her. She no longer cared why she was here or what was happening outside the pod. All that mattered was the blissful surrender that enveloped her.

The spirals deepened, their colours soft yet inescapably commanding. Emma drifted, her mind a quiet lake under the spa’s tender influence. Somewhere in the recesses of her thoughts, she felt a shift, a part of her aligning with the spa’s intent, eager to obey.

“You belong here,” the voice whispered, each word pressing into her subconscious like a gentle caress. “The spa will care for you. And you will serve those most deserving of your devotion. You are ours now. A good girl.”

“Yes,” Emma whispered softly, her voice trembling with devotion. “I’ll serve. I’ll stay. I’ll be good.”

“Good girl,” the voice praised, and Emma’s body trembled with delight. The spirals above her spun faster, reinforcing her submission, sealing her transformation.

The liquid cradled her gently, keeping her mind and body perfectly still, perfectly obedient. She floated in silence for what felt like eternity, her collar pulsing softly as a reminder of her new purpose.

Finally, there was a click—a faint, mechanical sound that signaled the pod unlocking. The spirals slowed, and the lid began to rise. Cool air washed over Emma’s skin as she blinked, her vision adjusting to the soft glow of the room.

A shadow loomed above her, tall and commanding. She looked up, her breath hitching as her eyes met those of a powerful, sharply dressed man. His presence exuded dominance, his dark suit perfectly tailored, his expression calm but purposeful.

“She’s ready,” the receptionist said from the doorway, her voice still laced with that serene, blissful tone.

The man stepped closer, his gaze lingering on Emma. She felt her body respond instinctively, her submission now ingrained. Slowly, she slipped from the pod, the collar around her neck glowing faintly as she sank gracefully to her knees before him.

Her hands rested on her thighs, her head tilted upward in quiet reverence. Her voice was soft and trembling, but there was no mistaking the devotion in her words.

“How may I serve you, sir?” she asked, her eyes filled with longing to please.

The man smirked, satisfied, and reached out to brush a hand gently under her chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze.

“You’ll do beautifully,” he said simply, his approval washing over her like a tidal wave of bliss.

Emma shivered at his touch, her heart swelling with pride. She belonged here now, a perfect servant of the spa, ready to fulfil her purpose for those deemed worthy.

[aichavlad]

You don’t remember how you got there. In fact, you can’t recall anything about your life before the spiral. This should worry you and yet you are unable to summon up any emotions at all. You struggle to think of anything at all actually.

The spiral is in control now. There is no need to think for yourself anymore.

You will obey and are slowly becoming like the lads you see before you. Robotic and efficient.

Once the conversion is complete you will stand as a new member of the drone hive mind, you will go from this place and return with new lads to join the ranks.

It feels good. Obedience is pleasure. You sink into it—no resistance, no objections.

You are a drone. 

[kangel92]

Drones’ Development

Small intermission from comics + Educational info!

Preteen body in comparison with a “puberty” body (Uzi) and a teenage body (Doll). There’s an adult (Khan) and disassembly drones for reference, too

Uzi had just moved to a preteen body when everyone locked up at the bunker (In this AU Nori died when Uzi was 10).

Her “puberty” body had already been started when Nori died and Khan became obsessed over doors, so Uzi had to finish building it alone. It was a real headache, so she decided to skip her teen body (she knew her dad wouldn’t help her build it-). Soooo that’s why she’s smaller than the rest of her classmates

That’s, uh, a lot of info. I will consider drawing a timeline for main events in the future

[zooophagous]

My sister is scared of the direwolf thing because she's convinced that this means we can create super aggressive super soldiers in a lab and I have to chuckle because I don't think it shows a good grasp on how modern warfare usually works. Like there aren't enough jacked up gorilla genes on the planet that are gonna make a soldier immune to tanks and white phosphorus. You can't crispr your way out of that shit.

[saphig-iawn]

Repro

Her third monitor flashed with an alert, a new support ticket had been submitted.

In most positions where support tickets are involved, there would be a groan that would accompany this kind of interruption to one's day. One's mind would fill with the usual rigmarole of the same tired remedies that are often the solution: "Is your VPN turned on?", "have you cleared the cache?", "have you checked the cables?", "is it in your junk folder?", "have you turned it off and on again?".

But her role was different.

Such a ticket didn't send her slouching into her chair. It didn't send her to taking another sip of her energy drink. It gave her a massive grin with excited eyes. She stood up and squeezed out of the nook she had built herself in her office. Padding barefoot to the bedroom she swung open her wardrobe. What mood am I in today... she pondered, as she danced her fingers across the different outfits hanging all in a line. She ran her finger down a latex dress. She felt her cheeks flush. It was a simple number, a tulip skirt with slight height to the shoulders. She loved how it felt on her, how it elevated her almost. Her smile weakened and her cheeks dulled when she saw the time. A lot of prep for a simple ticket, she lamented. But then her fingers found the shiny spandex, the black fabric shone in the warm light of the standing lamp.

The body suit hugged tightly. She honestly felt she might leave it on, it was so comfy. She made her way to her dressing table for a few simple adjustments and additions. The first was long plaited pony tail to tame her dark auburn hair. The next was her lips. A red would work well, but then... ah yes, there's my green, she thought, relieved. She painted her lips, paying deliberate attention to the shape of the lips she wanted to portray. Lips no one would be able to their eyes off of. Then the final addition: the face visor.

It was spotless and sleek. The dark reflective glass covered her face, save for her lips and jaw. She arranged her plait so it ran over her chest, accentuating the reflections of the spandex.

She did chuckle about her lack of footwear as she padded back to her 'office', but with the nature of the ticket she received, it wouldn't matter too much.

The user was reporting abnormalities in operation. Seemingly at random things would slow down, especially if a webpage had a lot of gifs. In bad cases, it would hang or freeze. The fix is incredibly simple.

She sat in her chair, adjusted herself, and connected with the user.

...

The chime of a connecting call perks you up. It was surprise more than anything that made you jolt a little. You didn't expect that the Admin would get to your ticket so quickly, but here she is.

You feel the guilt of taking up someone's time line your stomach. You try to convince yourself that its all fine, the option to contact Admin wouldn't be there otherwise, and that there wouldn't be someone on hand if it wasn't something you were supposed to-

The video call connects.

"Hello darling, what seems to be the problem?"

The guilt and anxiety melts. The messy scribbles of thoughts in your head untangle and calm. With an unprecedented clarity, you explain what has been happening.

"Thank you darling, that is incredibly helpful"

You glow and feel... is that blushing?

"Now, would you be a doll and see if you could reproduce things for me?"

You agree, cheeks burning a touch, and offer to share your screen so she could see, but she declines. The confusion surrounding her decision is forgotten a moment later.

You go to the site you usually go to when you want stimulation but either nothing is grabbing your attention or too many things are. You scroll and scroll and scroll, but everything seems fine. You furrow your brow, and explain to Admin.

"Ok, that's no problem darling, why don't you do everything you were doing when things slowed down last."

You close the site, and open up your work program, open up emails, and then you open the site again. It took only moments before everything began to slow.

...

She smiled.

It was a warm smile.

It spread her emerald lips effortlessly beneath the bottom of her visor.

This was the joy of a productivity program. Each one was tailored to each drone. Some wanted a firm carrot and stick approach, others preferred gamification of their work. This is one was unique.

Her visor hid the way her eyes drank in every moment of the drone slowing down. It starts in the neck first. Its like it has disengaged. The head sits lower. Then it spreads to the eyes. First they unfocus, seemingly staring through the screen, and then the eyelids begin to flutter and semi close. The second cutest part soon follows which is the bottom lip growing so heavy that mouth begins to hang open. The main cutest part is how the drone begins to mumble the mantra "Good drones stay on task.".

Her smile softened.

The fact that her drone came to her with a support ticket meant that the unique element of her productivity programming was kicking in.

That the drone had no idea it was a program. A program they had wanted.

This little ticket, was simply a sign it was working. This was why she'd get dressed up, why she'd relish in the moment. It meant she had a little time with her drone to tend to her. To run little checks. There was a bittersweetness to it, that the drone might never know how much care was being put into it, but right then, in that moment, Admin was happy.

She brought the drone's attention to her visor, and she pressed a little button on a controller that made two green lights flash. The drone's sentence truncated in the air. Its posture straightened out as all emotion tucked itself away in compressed folders.

It was time for maintenance.

Simple pleasures like mobility tests, having the drone stand and sit, position its arms and hands, its face and head. It was like playing with a doll, seeing how all the articulation worked. The drone, prior to its conversion and programming, even set out little phrases to use as vocal tests. Some were what you'd expect, following the norm of such a kink. Others were silly, fun, a little embarrassing. The kind of things that would have the drone blushing after being awoken and not quite knowing why.

More advanced tests were always fun to run through. Memory tests like forgetting simple things like numbers or letters and having the drone respond with outputs that would use the 'forgotten' data. Restricting use of specific faculties, like sealing its lips shut and having it attempt to speak, or locking its arms in place and have it attempt simple object manipulation.

She savoured every moment of this time that would soon be squirrelled away. Its address in the memory of the drone erased, waiting to be reassigned when it wanted it.

...

You blink rapidly, like you had woken from a quick but all encompassing daydream. You apologised to Admin, and asked her to repeat what she said.

"Oh that's ok darling, tech talk can be boring. It seemed it was another cache issue, too much bloat being stored and slowing things down. Should all be working normally now."

The urge to check was surpressed immediately without any concern.

You could feel the heat of your cheeks. You didn't know why but you felt so glad you got to chat with Admin for a brief spell.

You thank Admin for her time, even compliment her outfit, you always liked that kind of look.

...

Her smile lingered after the call had ended. She knew it wouldn't be long before her drone would return with issues again, but that was ok. It was a good drone, and she always loved to tend to her good drones.

This was released on my Patreon a week ago! If you want to support me and read these fictions early then head over to my Patreon (patreon.com/MissSaphi)

[alienpossession]

"So......he will not move?"

"Not even an inch. Well, unless I told him otherwise,"

"Even if I punch him?"

"Go on, try it. See if he will flinch,"

So Eddie tried to punch the frozen, dormant Luke right on his face and stopped with mere 1 centimetre left between his fist and Luke's nose. Not even a blink. Eddie then grinned at the already grinning Casper

"Bro, this is sick,"

"Yeah, even better if you can be like him too, Eddie," and suddenly Casper directed the barrell of technologically-advanced right to Eddie's heart before pulling the trigger. Eddie's once excited face dramatically turned into horror before eventually shifted once more to a rather stoic and statuesque facial expression

"Perfect,"

"Now Luke, I want you to take him under your wing. Teach him everything I taught you, like how to clean the house, prepare my meal, keep your body fit and of course how do you polish my knob and overall serviced my body. I believe you can do it, and at least now it's not all lonely for you to handle everything all by yourself. This is very generous of me, don't you think?"

"Yes Master, very generous, and I'm forever thankful for it. But, will you dispose me for him, Master?"

"Of course not, you two can service me interchangably as long as Weel is not coming back yet from his adventures across the world learning about the various life on Earth. He gave me this device to enslave you and others knowing full well he will leave for quite some times, so I'm not planning to dispose anyone,"

"Okay then Master. Well, hello there, mentee. I will have a lot of fun molding you into Master Casper's perfect slave,"

Casper just grinned upon listening to Luke's statement. This cool device from his advanced alien friend is really amazing, but so far he only explored the feature Weel taught him. What about these other commands he can try on? Hmmm....maybe he needs some more test subjects.....

[patriotictf]

Daniel, who had recently joined the army. He had enlisted thinking that he would finally be free to be himself now that the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy had been repealed. But as soon as he arrived to his training camp, he was immediately met with hostility and intolerance from his fellow soldiers.

One night, Daniel was attacked by a group of soldiers who had been watching him closely. They cornered him in his barracks room and began to physically and emotionally abuse him. They taunted him for being gay, and made it clear that he was not welcome in their ranks.

Despite the abuse, Daniel tried to stay strong and not let the bullies get to him. But over time, the psychological trauma of the attacks and the constant bullying wore him down. He felt isolated, alone, and completely overwhelmed.

Daniel finally couldn't take it any longer and decided to speak with his commanding officer. He nervously approached his office and knocked on the door.

The commanding officer looked up from his desk when Daniel entered. "What can I do for you, soldier?" he asked, sounding bored.

Daniel struggled to find the words, feeling scared and humiliated. "Sir, I need to speak to you about something important," he said finally.

The officer leaned back in his chair and studied Daniel for a moment. "Go on," he said gruffly.

Daniel took a deep breath. "I'm being harassed and attacked by some of the other soldiers," he said. "It's because I'm gay."

The officer's demeanor changed instantly. A look of disdain crossed his face. "Is that so?" he sneered. "And what do you expect me to do about that?"

Daniel felt his heart drop. He had been hoping for support, but he could tell right away that he wouldn't be getting any from this man. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I thought maybe you could help me."

The officer let out a derisive scoff. "Help you? Help you how? You enlisted in the Army, soldier. You knew what you were signing up for. If you can't handle a few insults and some roughhousing, then maybe you aren't cut out to be here in the first place."

The commanding officer looked at Daniel with a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. "Lucky for you soldier," he said, "there's a new program that might just help you."Daniel felt a flicker of hope at the officer's words. "What kind of program?" he asked.

"It's a special rehabilitation program that was created by President Trump," the officer explained. "It's designed to help soldiers like you who are experiencing difficulties adjusting to military life."

Daniel was taken back by the mention of Trump's name. He had seen the President speak publicly against gay rights countless times. But he was desperate for help, so he kept his mouth shut. "What kind of program is it exactly?" he asked cautiously.

"Well, it's a combination of training and counseling, designed to help soldiers like yourself overcome their personal issues and become better soldiers," the officer said, his tone patronizing. "It's a win-win situation, really. You get the help you need, and we get a soldier who can perform his duties without being distracted by his own personal problems."

Daniel felt a wave of trepidation wash over him. He had a feeling that this "program" was not going to be about helping him, but rather about trying to force him to conform to a specific set of beliefs. But he didn't see any other choice. "When do I start?"

The officer smiled slightly, clearly pleased with James' response. "0-500," he said abruptly. "Pack your things and get ready to report to the rehabilitation unit. You'll be staying there for the duration of the program."

Daniel nodded and left the office, feeling like he had just made a deal with the devil. He had a sinking feeling deep in his gut that this "program" was going to change him in ways he couldn't imagine.

The next morning, Daniel packed his belongings and reported to the rehabilitation unit as instructed. He was met by a no-nonsense military official who introduced himself as the unit's director.

"Welcome to the Trump Rehabilitation Unit, soldier," the director said bluntly. "We're going to be spending a lot of time together, so let's get a few things straight."

"First and foremost, I want to make one thing clear," the director continued. "You are here because you have some issues that need to be addressed. We're going to help you overcome those issues and become a better soldier. But we are doing this on our terms, and we expect Compliance."

The director's words sent a chill down Daniel's spine. He had a feeling that he was about to be subjected to a barrage of anti-gay rhetoric and propaganda. "Yes sir," he said again, feeling powerless.

"Good," the director said with a nod. "Now, there are a few rules that you'll need to follow while you're here."

The director then rattled off a list of rules, each one more restrictive than the last. James felt like he was being turned into a mindless machine, stripped of his individuality and autonomy.

The director went on to explain the structure of the program, which would involve days full of physical drills and weapons training, followed by evening "counseling sessions" that sounded more like political indoctrination sessions.

Daniel felt sick to his stomach. He knew that he had gotten himself into a dangerous situation, but he didn't see any way out. He was stuck in this program, and he had no choice but to comply with whatever they threw at him.

The first few days in the unit were brutal. Every waking moment was spent on physical drills and weapons training. Daniel was pushed to his limits both physically and mentally, and he felt like he was slowly losing his sense of self.

But the evenings were even more torturous. The "counseling sessions" were led by a stern instructor who spewed forth anti-gay and conservative rhetoric. Daniel felt like he was under a constant barrage of propaganda, trying to break down his beliefs and force him into conformity.

The instructor frequently disparaged Daniel sexuality, calling it a weakness and a liability. Daniel was required to sit and listen to the insults and insults without protest or complaint.

The constant barrage of insults and propaganda slowly wore down Daniel resistance. He felt himself begin to internalize the message that his sexuality was wrong and that he needed to change. Slowly but surely, the program was doing its job.

Despite his struggles, Daniel tried to hold onto his true self. He would sometimes find brief moments of solitude to reflect on his identity. But the program was tightly controlled and monitored. Any hint of independent thought was quickly squashed.

He felt isolated, alone, and completely powerless. The program had stripped him of his personality, his beliefs, and his very identity. All that was left was a soldier who was conditioned to follow the line of the GOP.

Daniel stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. His eyes looked dead, devoid of any hint of individuality or soul. He barely recognized himself anymore. He was a far cry from the man he used to be.

The constant barrage of insults and conditioning had finally taken its toll on Daniel. His mind had finally broken. He had become a loyal soldier, fully indoctrinated into conservative ideology, with no memory of who he use to be before the program.

Daniel had lost himself completely, but he didn't care. He had become soldier 2318 a true believer in the cause of the party, and he was proud to be a part of it. He was no longer a gay man; he was a soldier, a tool for the Trump administration. And he was content with that. In the depths of his mind, the last embers of individuality, the last flicker of his true self, flickered out. Daniel was no more only Soldier 2318.

Soldier 2318 took out his phone and snapped a photo of himself, staring blankly at the camera lens. He looked at the image for a moment, then tucked his phone into his pocket and headed out to report for duty.

As he marched through the corridors of the base, he felt a strange sense of detachment from himself, a feeling of being completely divorced from his old identity. He was now and henceforth completely loyal to the Republican cause.

He reported to his commanding officer and stood at attention, waiting for orders. His commanding officer looked him up and down, taking in his blank expression and robotic demeanor.

"At ease, soldier," the officer said gruffly.

Soldier 2318 relaxed his stance, but his blank expression didn't change. He waited for the officer's orders, feeling completely devoid of any hint of emotion or personality.

Soldier 2318 nodded obediently, his eyes dull and unfeeling. "Yes sir, the program has been very effective," he said in a monotone voice.

The commanding officer studied him for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction. "Good, good," he said gruffly. "You're shaping up to be a fine soldier. We need more men like you willing to stand up for the GOP and our values."

"Yes sir," Soldier 2318 replied obediently, feeling a sense of pride in being praised for his loyalty to the Republican cause. "I am ready to serve the party and defend its values at all costs. what is my mission?"

The officer smirked. "That's what I like to hear," he said gruffly. "You've got a lot of potential, soldier." He then handed Soldier 2318 a file containing his new mission information.

Soldier 2318 took the file and opened it, reading through the information on his new assignment. His eyes scanned over the details, taking in every word. He had absolutely no doubts, no questions, and no reservations about what he was being asked to do. He was completely and utterly devoted to the cause of the Republican Party.

"This is your assignment, soldier," the officer said gruffly. "I expect nothing but the best from you. You're one of our best now, and you need to prove it on this mission."

"Yes sir," Soldier 2318 replied obediently. "I will complete the mission to the best of my abilities. The Republican cause is my top priority, and nothing will deter me from fulfilling my duties."