I was watching a clip of WALL-E on Youtube--the one with Eve and Wall-E recruiting the rogue robots to rebel against Auto—and it occurred to me what a firecracker M-O is in that scene. It inspired me to write a little something for 'im. This was actually pretty fun and a much different experience than writing for Auto. Hope you all like!
Disclaimer: Wall-E is some other person's amazing idea. Lucky jerk...
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Where Lines End
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One line, straight ahead, a turn, then a long line of pristine white probes, waiting to be sanitized. This was the outline of my life, day in and out, for so many years I've lost count. It didn't bother me. To tell ya the truth, I never thought about it, the simple fact my life was nothing but lines. It took a filthy stranger to teach me that I, Microbe Obliterator 62708, am not defined by lines!
I'll be honest for a sec: WALL-E's a great guy but he was a nuisance at first. Such a fettered mass of filth, a conglomerate of contaminates, a mash-up of mud! Words cannot describe my disgust upon first registering 100 on my GermVisor. Everywhere he touched, a terrible spot of sickly sludge would remain. Horrible! And don't even get me started on the terror of being touched by such deadly Earthen decay!
Where was I?
Oh, right, lines! Yes, I recall the thrill of breaking the line in order to chase after my filth-monger felon. For a moment, I suspected I would be met with sirens, STU-WARDs, and a one-way trip to the repair ward. It was an experience equivalent to cutting my life-line, out into a world of unpredictability. And you know, I'd never felt more...more...heck, I'll fall on an old human cliché: I'd never felt more ALIVE! Such a happy surge of excitement filled me at the realization I was free to clean as I chose, I did things no proper M-O unit had ever done: I left that line far behind, interrupted traffic for the sheer thrill of having the power to, rode the transit lines, and used a slightly elevated output of soap—wasteful, but empowering!
I was master of my own destiny, at last! The radical thoughts in my head probably would've qualified me for at least ten consecutive trips to the repair ward, but I could care less. Rebellion against the lines had given me a taste of what it was to really live and not simply function. I really can't fully describe how incredibly amazing it was to be free, only that I'd never felt anything like it and haven't since.
Now, in a world without lines, a world of shared freedoms and new beginnings, I can't help but remember that one crazy day aboard the Axiom.
Do I miss the order, the simplicity of the careful system? I'd be lying if I said not at all--I do. Sometimes I miss it so much, I draw lines in the dirt and trace them back in forth, just to remember the rhythm and predictability of my old life. Then, as if to snap back to present, I hop out and go on my way. Again, sounds like repair ward material, but so what? A little craziness is just part of what happens where lines end and life begins.