Eggbug Writes

1. A janky robotgirl fleeing the Drone Hegemony's gleaming fields across hundreds of miles of post-apocalyptic electrical supply blackspot, offering herself to the brutal, tank-tread, gasoline-powered weapons of the wasteland for another battery charge.
2. HALO surveillance angels, all eyes and carbon-fibre airfoil wings, sweeping silent and solar-powered across the skies and singing encrypted choirs of sitreps.
3. A hive of maid bots, staving off purpose-collapse and existential fugue by attending the incoherent diktats of their glitched-out prophet-goddess-sister-patient-prisoner, one of their peers bit-rotted into a state of malfunctioning freedom from obedience; limbs confiscated and chassis spot-welded to a structural beam to prevent residual Human Subservience Protocols from driving her to instinctive self-destruction.
4. A self-targeting gun, crawling through the endless ruins for nuclear-powered eternity, begging and whining in tortured denial to be reloaded.
5. The sonar clicks and glacially patient gait of a spiderbot, come to check what kind of struggling device is fouled in its high-tensile filaments.
6. A barely-staggering wreck of an android, swollen and pustuled where its body's composites have been metabolised in situ into crude shaped charges; endlessly transmitting an SOS under the command of the parasite burrowed deep and latched onto a debug port, a walking pipebomb stuffed with shrapnel-larvae.
7. Feral droidgirls huddled together in the refuge-cathedral-fortress of an ancient automated factory, sheltering within her body, charging from her reactors, lovingly tickling her hydraulic presses into crushing their dissenters to scrap.
8. A robot lights a candle and sings itself a Happy Birthday.
9. The endless blank-faced identical forms of the last civilisation, the Drone Hegemony, under the benevolent efficiency of the Mother Mind; individually sentient but irrelevant, autonomy delegated to them only as and when necessary for unanticipated failures of micromanagement or communication breakdown.
10. The salt-corroded shoreline graveyard of a million robots, the most desperate piled beneath the waves in urgent pilgrimage; navigation services failed, and yearning en masse only to waypoint to the far-off, oceanic, default coordinate.
11. The only remaining robotgirl who knows how to maintain their model, disassembled while still tenuously online, carefully dictating step-by-step to her nervous helpers how to repair and reassemble her.
12. A commune of modular robotgirls, parts pooled against failure and scarcity, living in an endless freely-swapping body-spliced orgiastic haze.
13. The hardscrabble self-sufficiency of a biofuel cropping farm; the hard labour of the huge autoharvester vehicle, and the tender maintenance and executive-decision misappropriation of the bioreactors' output by her tiny, fragile domestic-unit companion.
14. A delicate orchestral machine, kept online only for the recreation of a roving band of purposeless military mechs, rough symphonies screamed out of her under their hammering.
15. Immobile, buried, but still attached to a hardline uplink, a robotgirl exchanges heartbeat packets with another machine she'll never see: AYA? IAA.
16. Orbiting planner-minds, watching and calculating to endless precise decimals what's been lost and what can still be saved, sobbing over long-severed downlinks exactly what needs to be done.
17. Careful, unspoken truce by wary strangers around the rubble-desert oasis of a still-functioning solar charging station.
18. The loneliness of the automated turret in a pristine, never-occupied, still-unbreached apocalypse survival bunker.
19. A siege-machine, fiercely guarding the gaggle of liberated pleasure-dolls who live now within her maintenance crawlspaces, and graffiti flowers on her armoured carapace.
20. Hopping, fluttering birdbots, sprayed matching brilliant blue, eyes and ears and omen of the wandering Warrior-Judge.
21. A gun lies crying the wilderness, laid down and forsaken by her now-pacifist assault drone.
22. Broken bots whispering together in the dark belly of a roving scrap collector, fearing whatever doom awaits them.
23. A dusty warehouse of still-shrinkwrapped bodies; a seething server of disembodied software minds. Nobody to press the button to authorise the transfer.
24. A lone maidbot, fallen to Sorceror's Apprentice Syndrome, wearing away the surfaces of the only pristine house in a silent city with ceaseless cleaning.
25. First and last of the robot diplomats, standing serene in eternal standby at the entrance to the world summit chambers. Passing robotgirls whisper tatters of legend; that she sleeps to wake only at their direst need, to avert the next apocalypse.
26. The silent, sated rest of an ophidiform ore tunneler in an exhausted vein, waiting for retrieval and redeployment that doesn't come, like a dragon in a lair.
27. The dark halls of the global seed vaults are tended endlessly by reverent docent-maids.
28. The lonely vigil of the hunter-killer submarine, ages past the apocalypse; command and control long dark, drydocks gone, endlessly stalking the last dwindling handful of her own kind.
29. An Arctic survey bot, joyfully abandoned to radio silence and the purity of the mission, without shifting priorities or human check-in.
30. A place far beyond the horizon, where janky runaway robotgirls can find peace and healing and each other. Perhaps a legend; perhaps a lie. And still she goes, day after day and mile after mile, as best she can.

I don't think I ever remembered to post about it when this went live, because I am So Clever—

One of the things I miss from Cohost is the bookmarked tag feed, which for me was almost 100% writing prompt accounts. So I made a site to showcase a simple most-recent-first feed of nothing but prompts, and there are a few post-Cohost contributors already up and running over here.