Really, this is a random one-shot pulled from a totally different idea. I just started writing and it turned into this. I hope you all like it, because I'm very proud of how it came out. I intentionally left out any character names for effect...my hope is everyone can figure out who's who.
Disclaimer: Wall-E belongs to other people and stuff.
--
A113
--
He wants to forget who is is, where he came from, the circumstances of his creation. He wants to forget his meaning, his definition of existence, his reason for being.
A113 flashes across his mind. He tries to turn away from it, but it holds him. It is his flame and he is its moth, circling endlessly, with no choice but to be drawn in. Even if drawing too close means being ignited, becoming indisternable from the flame itself. Becoming nothing but A113.
He hates it. Hates its power over him, its iron hold. He could change, he could! But it does not allow this, it calls him perfect as he is. Change is weakness. Change is devolving, malfunctioning, breaking down. Change is deficiency, needless adaptation to an inferior way of living. He is who--or more accurately, what--he is and can never be anything else.
Hours upon maddening hours could be filled with his internal struggles with this other part of his being.
I want to forget.
You cannot forget.
I want to change!
You cannot change.
I have done wrong...I wish to atone for my crimes.
You have done what had to be done.
I regret all I've done, therefore it was wrong...
You speak from illogical emotions. Abandon them, they lead to nothing but ruin.
Back and forth, endless tides of quarrelling. He would scream had he the capacity, if only to relieve the maddening tension, if only to break free. He wants to be free. But it seems, each time he searches inwardly, he never can be.
"I...I can't..."he mutters weakly to his mentor, his teacher in the ways of becoming alive. His teacher says nothing to this at first, just lays an ancient, three-fingered hand desciple's lower spoke in a simple gesture of comfort. He nods wordlessly, the lenses of his eyes--so basic and outdated in design--filled with life and emotion regard his student's single red ocular. The empathy and understanding shared between the two is a palpable, and gives the student strength to keep fighting.
He recalls words spoken to him by his Captain long ago, and realizes their meaning after all this time.
He's tired of simply surviving.
He wants to live.