The storm had passed, the KR 112 was now visible from far and wide in the scorching desert sun.

Upon its control tower the letters Kr 112 was easily seen in prominent white, even if it was slightly worn. The entire hull was rusted on the surface, here and there gleaming steel was seen and in some areas bits of green camo paint was still seen.
A relic from the past, a leviathan of steel, titanium and wires in the form of the mutated lovechild of a fortified factory and a battleship. With cranes armour plating turrets and massive cannons all along its structure, all of it suspended ten yards above the ground on massive triangular track sections.
It made the ground tremble with its surprising momentum, the tracks heaving up tonnes of sand as it zoom along the flat sand.

The area was getting more fertile, the ground was cracked and the odd bush and cacti could be seen, one cacti squished beneath a track like nothing as the KR 112 thundered forward. On the horizon trees could be seen from the lookout tower in the centre of the vehicle about two thirds to the back.
MK IV stood there in the office drone gazing out over the stiff sandy ground and towards the horizon.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QvYi1MRvX_o

The trees in the distance grew closer, the ground began to show more and more signs of fertility with patches of grass below small tree gatherings around small mud beds. Once they used to be watering holes but time was not kind to this land. The forests of old were almost gone, only the mighty rivers could keep water to the dying land so only the land closest to them and some rare others still had the trees of old.
On the right, an ancient ruin now jutted up from the ground, a toppled over skyscraper, a few of its windows still intact, reflecting light from the scorching sun.

MK IV remember guarding this building long ago, back when it still stood.
A simple job it was, it was mostly to prove to the locals that the defense corps had the situation under control... looking back at it would suggest that they didn't have it under control after all.
He remembered a child stretching out a hand to him, he remember failing protocol and extending his left hand to let the child touch his mechanical shining black hand. The sun shone with a pleasant sheen, the white marble stone glistened and the glass walled buildings white pillars of purity.
The child was smiling as it reached him in slow motion, the call of its mother was as clear as yesterday.
-"Don't touch it, it's dangerous." As the child touched him the scene went from the bright and pleasant to a nightmarish hellscape.

Its face bereft of its skin and most of the muscle, the eyes hollow and the hair burnt.
The sky rained fire and everything was covered in reddish brown dirt and fallen masonry. Somehow the child still stood, MK IV could hear its thoughts.
-"Why didn't you save us?" The images stopped...

MK IV realised his left hand was outstretched in front of him, the memory didn't fit how the event had unfolded. It didn't make sense.
He never saw the dead child, never heard it. But somehow this memory replay had shown it like that.
Was his memory getting even more degraded? Was the compression of his data files becoming so jumbled that they were becoming intermixed?
Was this just some sort of data damage?
Perhaps it was what humans called a dream, or more like a nightmare. Hallucination?

MK IV lowered his hand, he had been within a drone for too long today he thought.
He knew it was a lie, he was designed to function indefinitely with just minor memory defragmentations required. Day and night, all the data stored for later review, to be drawn upon for the personality engrams.
He had done his best to perform defragmentations. But in truth he lacked the proper knowledge to properly service his own engrams and memory data.
Perhaps he wasn't even supposed to exist anymore? Supposed to be scrapped when the war was won...

He just let the drone stand there and poured his full attention to the KR 112, it was refreshing from time to time. Usually he only let it run at half power, after all it was usually only ever going in a straight line.
But now there was not even a slightest hint of humanoid form, he was a mighty mobile land fortress. He felt the threads upon the ground, the bumps of the suspension, the energy in the circuits and power lines, how the capacitors within hummed with power.

The journey was a long one, perhaps he was starting to understand what the human word 'bored' meant?