The Errant Adventures of Trip and Wyl!

[Trip]

Various problems arise when a droid is left active too long. Extended operations cause inevitable glitches, code corruptions, and dirty packets of data that can disrupt the perameters of the core operating system. Sometimes these glitches can affect vocabulator software, where appropriate; droids belonging to owners with particularly strong accents are designed to adapt their speech recognition over time to ease interaction, but sometimes those adaptions unintentionally migrated to the vocal processors, and adapted the droid's linguistic subroutines to match. Sometimes, owners would project a personality onto their droid, referring to them with gender pronouns, interacting with them as friends; servants; equals; pets - the droid would often adapt to that, its program expanding the role based on information in its database, and obtained by observation of organic beings, all to better serve their master.

Sometimes however, the corruptions were completely random, and the quirks conjured could vary wildly. Some droids developed corruptions in their obedience subroutines, ignoring instructions and instead functioning on their own calculated logic. Sometimes those logic centers too could be corrupted, and the droid's ability to sensibly interpret situations could be wildly thrown off.

Today was one of those days. The droid currently trundling through the passageways that led from one of Cloud City's landing platforms - a he, based on the imprinting of his numerous owners - had such corruption to his core software that he'd been unable to properly understand the meaning of the instruction: "Go away." Currently, his internal positioning system was working in concert with his external sensors, and informed him that he was one hundred and seventy-six point oh three meters from the IFF transmitter aboard the Astral Queen. Master Amos had not specified just how far away the droid should proceed, but it seemed logical - to him at least - that he continue moving away from Amos' presumed location until instructed to do otherwise, or until variations in terrain prevented his range-to-target from increasing any further.

Working his way through the more commercial sections of the facility, he halted for a moment to interact with a computer terminal and update his internal mapping. A quick comparison with his structural sensors located his position; various calculations streamed through his core processor - located in his chest, rather than in his head like most of the technologically ignorant humanoids seemed to assume - and he plotted the best course. The residential areas of the complex seemed to be the furthest linear distance from the ship; with the vertical differential taken into consideration as well, that would be his best choice of destination if he intended to comply with Master Amos' instructions.

The servos in his almost canine paws whirring into action, Trip trundled off in search of an elevator.