a/n: ness and jak here. Here's our collaboration to Reverb2015, our little nod to the Steinmarie fandom. Big thanks to Scarl, Proma and Dand for your fabulous beta work once more. Also, to our wonderful artist M/code425, your idea gave us a lot of room to popcorn with, and your art is fabulous.
Without further ado, yojne (:.
Sisyphean: [of a task] that can never be completed.
...
pause.
"Once upon a time, there was a man and his wife.
His wife died, and in his grief, the man made her once more.
An android…"
A spark, a fuse - and then, life. She opened her eyes.
In her chest, she could vaguely make out wires. Her vision focused, then refocused- and slowly she could see the pesky cords, inserted directly into her system like a board. She raised one hand- curiously sharp, what would be appendages instead thin brittle metal, yet still mobile; with a careful maneuver, she ripped off each wire from her body, one by one.
The only source of light in the dark room were her red eyes. Her head turned once, then the other way, as if testing her mobility. Low creaks and groans of metal against metal were the only sounds in the silence. She turned once more, then stopped, facing forward, to the man slumped over in his chair.
He raised his head, a mess of grey hair falling haphazardly, a dying cigarette between his lips. His eyes widened at the sight: his creation, his wife, the manifestation of his ability. He'd created life. His hand groped the desk for his spectacles, his digits shook as he hooked them behind his ear, balanced them on the crook of his nose. His other hand, still trembling, reached out.
She didn't dare move. Her red, laser eyes transfixed only on him. And as he laid his palm flat against what was supposed to be her bodice- cold, cylindrical steel, crudely fashioned and held together by mismatched bolts both big and small- she couldn't quite feel the warmth of his skin. While her brain memorized the pattern of his hand, the hollow grooves of his fingers, there was nothing of who he was in her mind- nothing but a small, trailing inkling that she should know him. That she should feel something.
He tried to utter a name, but choked on the first syllable, each consonant after stuck to his tongue like glue. The name was familiar to her; it held true affection, and somehow she remembered that it had once been hers.
The man waited for a response, and at the lack of one, he almost felt defeat, yet it in itself was acceptance of sorts. He was not one to cry, but as she blinked back at him, no motion in her android body hinting that she'd acknowledged his turmoil at all, he felt close to tears.
But then, slowly, one of her hands lifted. Her fingers- brittle pieces of metal barely held together by loose, rusted screws - extended toward his palm. It almost hurt the way each would-be digit slid underneath his own, before they curled shut-holding his hand. Even though her joints groaned with the effort, she held him there, so close to her mechanical heart.
With a hint of a stutter, she spoke in a voice that was cold, and yet held a hint of what was once her warmth. Another cruel reminder that shewas but a robotic shell of what his wife once was.
"This isn't how it was supposed to be."
The words left him hollow.
She stared intently into his eyes.
He dropped his own gaze, lowering his hands to his side.
She was right.
It was never supposed to be this way.