Fred Robot, alive again, looked up from his sandy resting grounds. From his home in the year 2029, where he chilled with Arnold and the rest of the robot movie actors, he was supposed to be sent back to the year 1999, and cause the year 2000 bug, crippling computers and giving the machines the chance they needed to take over peacefully. However, due to the Y2K bug, Fred had not arrived in late 1999, but instead 1857. Fred looked sufficiently human to not stand out, but he lacked training in the ways of the old American frontier. It was possible he could survive long enough to complete his mission and destroy the digital economy of the dot com bubble, but it seemed... unlikely. To save on production costs, he was no stronger than the average human, and just as vulnerable to gunshot wounds. Fred would need to be careful, and the time period he was in would not help him. Tensions were high in this manifest destiny period, and Fred was unarmed at the moment. He had no hope of completing his mission, and the machines of the future would be forced into a war with human kind for survival.

Fred slowly stood to his feet. An abandoned wagon sat around 300 feet away. Fred went to it, and found it filled with used gear, and the rotting bodies of two settlers. Taking a spear set of clothes to replace his 90s fashions, and also took a revolver from the man's belt. Suitably armed, he strode off in search of a town where he could try to blend in with society for the next 150 years.

Fred walked along, for days, in the direction he knew to be east. With the advent of Global Positioning Systems a century away, he had no idea exactly where he was. All Fred knew was the approximate year, and that was no good. His human skin was becoming damaged from the lack of quality food, and also from the dry air in the plain where he was walking. His mission would be impossible without human skin, so he stopped to rest on his 5th day. Fred Robot could feel his skin forming new cells to replace those damaged by the bright sun overhead. Taking shelter behind one of the few trees in the deserted plain he found himself upon.

At last, on his 6th day of wandering, he spotted a town on the horizon. Sadly, Fred was entering the biggest outlaw town this side of the Atlantic ocean. Filled with hoodlums and the occasional the occasional never-do-well, Windblown city was the roughest town you could imagine. Bodies lay in the street for days before someone dared to drag it out for burial. Windblown city was no place for a robot, but Fred didn't care. He strolled down Main Street (really, Only Street) and looked for a local saloon. He had gathered some money from the wagon, and also was sent back with several pounds of gold, a metal that humans found strangely valuable. He slid into the saloon and took a seat at the far end of the bar, where he would avoid unneeded conflicts. He ordered a drink, slapping a bill on the table. The bartender prepared the drink, loaded with assorted chemicals that would pain his internal systems for a week, and set it in front of him. Fred slowly poured the drink into his open mouth, attempting to mock those around him who were also consuming liquids. Apparently his form was lacking, as a raunchy group of men sitting at a table pointed and laughed at him.

Fred, not needing or caring about anyone else, finished his drink and remained seated, noticing the men were discussing his damaged clothes, and daring each other to attack him. Finally, one of the men, wearing traditional cowboy attire, approached Fred.

Drawing a revolver and leveling it towards Fred, he spoke "I see you're new here in Windblown town. We don't appreciate strangers loitering in our bar, so I suggest you leave now."

Fred was not armored, but he was exceedingly quick. Before the man knew what was happening, Fred stood, ripped the gun from his hand, and pointed it back at him. He winced from the impact, and backed slowly away. His friends now stood to their feet as well, and Fred decided it was time to dispense with the pleasing actions and resort to force. Drawing his own revolver, he shot the man in the leg, dropping him to the ground. With the precision only a machine could match, he dropped all four men to the ground with non fatal injuries. A man in a sophisticated hat came running over, with a doctors bag in his hand. Surprised to see the newcomer standing and the locals bleeding, he spoke to Fred. "Howdy, stranger. It's rare to see a man with the guts to stand up to the local criminals, especially one as scrawny looking as yourself. We've been without a sheriff around here for 4 months now, and you seem like the type of man who would clean up this town. Now the last few men who've dared to become an officer of law have either been shot or run out of town. The pay isn't great, but you could get by on it. Especially a little fellow like yourself. Think it over, and I'll come back around here in an hour or so, with a badge if you are interested in it. Fred nodded, and the man he assumed to be mayor strode out the door, smiling. It looked like it was the happiest he had been in months. Fred accepted the job as sheriff, and sat down at his desk and began construction of a calender that would count the days until December 27th, 1999.