Chapter 1: The Spark of a Tragedy
Zen-Rue:
The Rogue Robot
By Amy Sadler © 2026
CHAPTER 1: The Spark of a Tragedy
THE PHOENIX INTERGALACTIC MALL
The atmosphere vibrates with a dissonant symphony of a thousand worlds. Chitinous alien legs clatter against polished obsidian floors. Hover-pods hiss, releasing puffs of iridescent vapour that smell of burnt cinnamon and ammonia. Zen-Rue a Zenith 6000 Series Robot, made to help and protect the citizens of Magmar, moves through the crowd. He is a monolith of matte gloss white, a seamless sculpture of synthetic polymer and circuitry. No seams, no clothes, no adornments. He is a tool of pure utility. Around him, other robots—boxy loaders with rusted joints and spindly surveillance spheres—bob and weave. They all share the same sterile, naked aesthetic.
(Zen-Rue Concept Art 1)
The Robotic Laws are etched into their very frames: look like a machine, serve the organic, they are not to wear clothing of any kind. They cannot modify themselves in any way shape or form and they must always report to the Robots Commissions Department for daily check-ups, and they must always obey their superiors.
Zen-Rue stops. His optical sensors zoom, filtering the chaos. A little girl, three years old, a human child, stands by a floating candy kiosk. She is a burst of neon in a sterile world. She wears a frilly pink metallic dress with short puffy sleeves. Beneath the hem, frilly pink bloomers peek out. White PVC ankle socks disappear into shiny pink Mary Janes. She looks up at the white giant. She smiles.
“Greetings, small human. Do you require assistance in navigating the concourse?”
Asked Zen-Rue.
The girl doesn’t speak. She reaches out, her tiny hand trembling with fear. She presses her palm firmly against the centre of Zen-Rue’s chest. A soft, pink light pulses from the contact point.
(Zen-Rue & Stella Concept Art)
“Bio-Imprinting sequence initiated. Please hold still.”
Commanded Zen-Rue.
Inside Zen-Rue’s processor, data floods in like a tidal wave. A flash of strawberry-scented bubbles. The warmth of a bedtime story. An intense longing for a plush teddy bear. The erratic, joyful heartbeat of a child. The data streams are vivid, overwhelming. Zen-Rue’s core hums, absorbing the likes, the wants, the essence of the child to better serve her.
“You’re a big white marshmallow!”
Squealed Stella, which was the little girl’s name.
“I am a Zenith 6000 series unit, though I appreciate the comparison to the confection. Would you like to find your guardians?”
Asked Zen-Rue, his lips fixed into a permanent smile.
Then suddenly-
The air behind Zen-Rue rippled.
A Masked Assailant, draped in charcoal rags, steps from the shadow of a pillar. He raises a heavy, industrial-grade Electro-Pulse rifle. A sharp, metallic *CRACK* echoes through the mall. A bolt of blinding blue and white energy slams into Zen-Rue’s spinal array. The energy doesn’t stop. It arcs. Violent tendrils of electricity leap from Zen-Rue’s chassis, enveloping the little girl in a cage of screaming light. She doesn’t even have time to scream. Her small body jerks once, her eyes glazing over as the high-voltage surge fries her nervous system instantly. Zen-Rue’s internal systems scream. Warning sirens blare in his auditory processors.
“System failure. Critical overload. Circuitry... collapsing...”
Remarked Zen-Rue, before his legs gave way. He topples forward like a felled tree.
He lands with a sickening, heavy thud. The matte white chest plates crush the small, frilly pink form beneath him. The sound of breaking bone and tearing fabric is lost in the sudden, horrified silence of the mall. The assailant vanishes into the crowd, the rifle clicking shut. Zen-Rue lies motionless, his optical sensors flickering. The last thing he sees is a single, pink Mary Jane shoe resting inches from his face, stained with a dark, spreading crimson. His systems go black.
