Ruminations
A Transformers Oneshot by Quill N. Inque
I do not own Transformers.
Chapter 1 (and only)
I stand on the edge of what the humans call an "ocean," one of many bodies of liquid that cover the majority of their tiny world. Though my skin is of metal and not flesh, my nervous sensors can still discern the lapping of water against my foot.
I glance up at the sky, at the silvery orb that is this planet's moon. Both the sky and the moon are unfamiliar to me; they are not the moon and stars that I knew back on Cybertron. This solar system lies beyond what Cybertronians before me had mapped of the known galaxy, and though I knew the stars of my homeworld by name, the twinkling lights above me are unknown, anonymous, and foreign.
I bend over and try to grasp a fistful of salt water, but it runs between my fingers. Its salty touch feels slightly corrosive. I feel the memory banks of my brain stir as I recall that though "oceans" cover most of the tiny sphere that the humans inhabit, they cannot use it to sustain them, even though water is to them what Energon is to Transformers. Like us, they cannot survive long without some kind of sustenance.
I take in the alien sounds of this organic world. Before the War that forced my fellow Autobots and I to flee to the stars, organic life had been a concept that seemed almost ridiculous. There are no "plants" or "animals" on Cybertron. My home was one of metal and angles and symmetry, a once-glorious civilization that had long succumbed to the horrors of war. It was beautiful, once, a vast cityscape of metal towers that dwarf the structures that the humans boast of as "skyscrapers." Our cities touched the very atmosphere of our metal world, but that was so, so long ago.
Sighing does not come naturally to Autobots, but having observed the behavior in humans, I decide that it is a suitable expression even though I have no biological lungs with which to do it. My kind do not need to breathe or even take in Energon as rapidly as the humans do; the inhabitants of the planet called Earth require a continuous intake of the local atmospheric gas in order to internally refuel their bodies. It is a mechanism as strange as it is bewildering, and having lived among the humans for some time now, I have found that there is much about them that I, or those who follow me, do not understand.
These humans…they are like nothing I have encountered before. When I first touched down on this planet, I assimilated with ease the entirety of the information contained on what the humans call "the Internet." They boast of this "Web" constantly, for they see it as a proud achievement of their race, and while I admit that the amount of knowledge is vast, the underlying conceptualizations are quite undemanding. I was able to assimilate everything contained on this "Web" in a matter of moments when I first arrived on their world, filing away in my databanks an amount of data beyond the ability of organic brains to contain.
In those few moments, I learned all there was to know about humans and their civilization, though learning and understanding are two very different things.
The human capacity for war rivals that of the Decepticons. Their entire history is one of warfare; where Cybertronians only began fighting one another as a result of Megatron's actions, the humans have been squabbling amongst themselves for eons. I have monitored at length their radio wave and television broadcasts, and found constant evidence of fractiousness among this world's inhabitants. The humans are divided into dozens, even hundreds of factions, each convinced that it and it alone is entitled to prosperity, to an "afterlife." That the humans war for ideals is nothing new to me given the irreconcilable differences between Autobots and Decepticons, but they war for other reasons as well. They scramble to claim this world's resources for themselves, trying to hoard the things they need instead of sharing them for the good of all. Ratchet has said that this is a manifestation of the humans' lingering tribal instincts; I believe we can teach them how to share what this world has to offer, if they will only cast aside their grudges. This will be difficult, though, for the humans have a memory that far outlives their short lifespans, and small disagreements among them often turn into blood feuds and bitter rivalries. For their many factions and opposing sides all have different ideas about life and living, about what is laudable and what is despicable, about what each person should or should not do. In the right context, this could be a wonderful opportunity for the humans to learn about each other, but more often than not it is used as an excuse for war and bloodshed. Megatron would probably applaud the deep-seated hatred that some groups of humans bear towards others of their kind, and it is to the humans' sorrow that hate comes so easily to them. They have yet to learn that differences are to be embraced, not shunned. If they will only make an effort at understanding each other, then they will find among them a new sense of unity. And yet they remain divided, by ideals, by borders, by interests, and even by skin color. Why some humans choose to judge each other merely because of the amount of melanin in their delicate outer casings confounds me.
Because of all these things, unification among the humans seems unlikely, and the humans who have attempted it have done so disastrously and for the wrong reasons, preferring to unite through cruelty and conquest rather than benevolence. And so the humans have carved up their planet into hundreds of warring territories, and each of them is concerned more with furthering its own interests rather than the interests of mankind as a whole. Such a thing was never heard of on Cybertron; though we certainly had different geographical areas, our government had jurisdiction over Cybertron's entirety. It was not limited to one place or another.
Ratchet has observed that the humans seem to exhibit an inbred need to express difference rather than uniformity. I agree with him, for division permeates all of human culture: it factors into their politics, their "matters of state," and even into their recreation and leisure.
The biology of humankind is something that our brave medic has found endlessly fascinating. I learned very quickly that the humans have notoriously short lifespans; even a Cybetronian hatchling would outlive them, and therefore the race that calls Earth home mourns every organic life lost, though many times this mourning is limited to whatever faction or side the deceased human belonged to. Furthermore, the humans have demonstrated an affinity for domesticating many of this world's lesser species; they keep smaller, less intelligent organics close to them and mourn their passing with equal and sometimes greater intensity than that of their own species.
Smiling, like sighing, is not a familiar expression for me. Cybertronians do not share the human ability to express emotion through the manipulation of facial muscles. But what we do share with the humans is a need for socialization. There are documented cases of humans being forced into isolated conditions through misfortune and losing many of their major cognitive functions as a result. "Going mad," the humans call it. Perhaps they are even more social than myself or my fellow Autobots because each human, in his or her lifetime, weaves an intricate web of friends, family, and acquaintances.
The human division, now that I muse upon it, runs so deeply among them that even their own biology is divided. I have observed two distinct subspecies of humans on this world, one called "male" and one called "female." Both are unique in their own way, with very different thought processes and ways of analyzing or acting upon various environmental stimuli. Though there are such differences among Cybertronians, they do not affect us as they do the humans; Arcee and I, for example, may be different in the way our outer casing appears, but our circuits, our databanks and coolants and other parts, are all the same. Not so with humans. Their division among males and females alters the very way in which they perceive and interact with the world they inhabit.
I have noted that, in a rare constant among them, the humans expect of one another to find a suitable mate in order to further the propagation of their species, though I have seen their hatchlings firsthand and note that they are virtually helpless, dependent upon their progenitors for sustenance and protection. We Cybertronians do not possess the means to propagate our race on our own. Back on my homeworld, this was done by the will of Primus, through the Well of AllSparks.
The humans hold the act of propagation to be a sacred physical manifestation of love, and that the humans are able to love one another shows great promise. Indeed, human love is the subject of a great many works of their species' literature, which is often stylized into what they call "poems." I have read several of these "poems" myself, and have concluded that, while they resemble nothing at all the literature I enjoyed on Cybertron, I can still appreciate their sincerity. The humans regard the notion of love with a great reverence, and it is the desire of many humans to experience it during their brief lifetimes.
And there is more to evidence their capacity for greatness. I have mentioned before how bloody the history of their race has been, but throughout its entirety are examples of their potential to be something far greater. There was one notable occasion, during what human history labels as the "First World War," in which combatants on both sides agreed to a truce and decided to put fighting aside in order to celebrate one of the many human "holidays" that are marked on Earth's calendar. The warriors came out in peace to talk, to laugh, to exchange what little valuables they had as forms of good-will, and even participated in recreational activities. That the humans were capable of doing such a noble deed in the midst of war shows how great their race will be once it reaches its maturity.
I survey the terrain around me. This world teems with primordial organic life, swarming with organic organisms of such number that the humans have difficulty keeping track of all of them. Some are rarer than others, because the humans have exploited them for gain; because of their "money," they see the component parts of other lesser organics as valuable, and harvest them at such length that many of this world's smaller species just barely cling to survival. The humans have driven many such species to oblivion because of their lust for wealth and material things; I find this action as alien as it is barbaric; the humans of the distant past killed other organics to provide sustenance for themselves, but their descendants kill for money or pleasure. I file this with all the other things that the humans can be taught to overcome, if they will only consent to be taught, and I am encouraged by the fact that some of them have set certain procedures or entities in place in an effort to stem this tide of senseless killing.
This world's tiny inhabitants are, in conclusion, impossible to summarize. They are at once intelligent and foolish, cowardly yet brave. They hold on to differences and yet some among them aspire to let them go. Many of them make war while others cry out for peace and harmony. They are a race divided in many ways yet unified in others. and so the humans have much to learn. Ironhide called them "primitive and violent," and in some ways, perhaps he is right. But I have seen, firsthand, that each human has the ability to choose the path of good and rise above his or her own limitations. And I am comforted to see that some humans value the ideals of freedom and self-determination as much as many Autobots do. I therefore believe that the fragile yet resilient organics that call this small world home are not beyond saving at all; perhaps, in the distant future, their civilization will be as glorious as Cybertron's once was. They do have the potential to accomplish great things, and I believe that, having brought our war to their planet's atmosphere, we Autobots owe it to them to show them how. For we are in their debt; in an example of their species' capacity for good, they have chosen to make themselves our allies in the war against Megatron and his followers. I do not believe that my fellow Autobots and I would have been able to keep the Allspark from Megatron's grasp were it not for the intervention of the humans. They have fought beside us on many occasions since then, and they have paid in lives to uphold the alliance they've made.
I feel hope swell within my Spark. I have faith in them. Given time and patience, we can help the humans reach their potential.
And in doing so, we will help them repeat the mistakes we made on Cybertron.