Well, here is my entry into Paradigm of Writing's "Comfort Zones do not Exist in Writing". This really expanded my usual shticks for writing, and I am pleased with the result. I will be posting the next few chapters soon. I hope you enjoy.
There are times when I feel alone.
Odd of me to say, no? I am an animation of pure metal. My blood is a green liquid coolant, my brain is a set of processing chips, and my heart is XV-25 generator running on plutonium-208. So why would I be concerned about such feelings, human ones especially, when I am not such a thing? I should be used to being alone and in the company of those who use me as a tool to achieve their ends.
There is a point where that train of reasoning becomes derailed from reality. Just because my flesh is a steel alloy does not mean I am incapable of such emotions. Indeed, I have one of my memory chips dedicated solely to feelings. I know a total of three hundred and seventy-three different range of emotions. I can play each one if I wish, just like I can make my voice sound like any actor from just about every film in Earth's cinema history and use that to replace my own voice which I am embarrassed to use with one of my many other memory chips. I can show venomous hatred, as well as mournful sorrow at any moment. I can make these emotions as good as any mortal man could.
Yet, I am isolated from many of the other Smashers, a weird name to call these fighters I think, because they view me as nothing more the a cold automaton combatant. Their prejudices and biases, intentional or not, are redundant. I can do anything they can do, to the extent better in many cases, but they still shun me. Some of the kids on their j-pad lites think of me as a relic from Earth's 1983, and there for not worth their time or interest. Others like Samus mistrust me because I am incapable, in their eyes, of having emotion. Thus I endure my existence alone and unloved.
Love… it is a strange emotion. To me it holds a special place in my though as to why it is so unique. Perhaps it is because it is so unique, it is the emotion I can never quite show. Even though I have a template of that very emotion inside my hardware, it is not real love. Real love, as I have observed, is nothing more then a change in the chemical and hormonal balance in living creatures. It causes wise men to become babbling buffoons, and cold women to melt over the sight of their partner they share the feelings for. If they wished to become the best, they would shun such feelings… but at the same time it makes them a greater person then they were before.
Again, such a strange emotion. Even my vast logic engeins cannot truly make sense of it all.
I have witnessed it in these very halls in which I now roll over to retreat to my quarters for some time to myself. A notable example is with this new fighter who calls himself Shulk. I was there to observe and calculate the statistical break down against combative drones. I was astonished, one of the few emotions I rarely use, that his hit to miss ratio was a stunning thirty to one. Then he went to his first true match, against the deadly yet elegant Sheik. He had many opportunities to strike her, though he did not on many of the occasions. Many didn't see it, as Sheik struck him at every opportunity he chose not to. The once impressive ratio dropped drastically. Three to one was his new hit to miss ratio.
I examined him from afar, sensing the hormonal change in his body. He was flustered, with something of awe and lust in his eyes after he fought Sheik. Clearly, this example alone should cause me to ignore and cease in all expectations of finding love. If one were to judge by this example alone, love was a metaphoric cancer that needed to be removed from the equation.
But at the same time, I know of times when love can push mortal men and women over the edge to do things only because they felt such an emotion. Mario, the humble plumber from the Mushroom Kingdom, has been capable of outstanding feats of physical and mental prowess because of his love for Peach Toadstool. He has gone through leaps and bounds, from what I have seen as well as examined that is both literal as well as figurative description, to save her from the beast known as Bowser. If he did not have this love that connected him to the blond royal, Mario would not have been able to hold his own against a gumba.
This is not the only example I could call upon, but I feel as if it does the most justice to the other side of the debate. Yet as I know more about love and see others under its thrall… the more I desire to feel it as my own.
I reach my room and open the door. My living space is ordered and spartan, just the way I like it. The dull hues of paint on the walls are comforting and cross-breeze from the open window kisses my sense receptors as a welcoming lover. I close the door behind me and move to the open window, looking out into the majestic garden, my lenses automatically filtering out the unbearable light to a much more relaxed level.
It was natural, I remember hearing once, to be loved. Every creature in the natural world had a mate with who they shared a bond with. The lowly ticks to the majestic eagles, from the gazelle to the human, all were given by their creator to have another to love. Yet, even though I am made of materials found in nature, I am denied such a gift. A bitter thought that has kept me frustrated many times over. Am I cursed to endure this life completely alone, unloved with no partner at my side I can call my own?
As I endure such morbid thoughts, she walks in the garden now, book held tightly over her chest and dress flowing in the breeze. She draws my attention now as she did when I first saw her. I use one of my clamps to rest my head and look down at her as she walks away to a secluded bench in the flowering garden plants on the far northeast corner.
Her name is Zelda Harkinian, and she captivates my attention like a schoolboy would to the newly enrolled female Swedish exchange student on the first day of school.
Of all the people in the Mansion, she is the most curious of the female species. I have seen two sides to her. By no means does she have an alter ego that does her to do crazy and deadly stunts, or spend most of her time on her back with someone new every night. She is always a graceful and lovely creature. But there are some differences between her private self and the one she shows in public.
When surrounded by others, she wears these long dresses. Colored silk of white and purple hugs her body and falls just as gracefully around her feet. She is poised and proper as anyone would expect a member of a royal family to be. She discusses matters of political intrigue, religion, art, and history when poised with the question. When she eats at the gathered assembly table she uses elegant instruments of two forks, a variety of spoons, three kinds of knives, and chopsticks if need be. She eats light salads, thin slices of meat tossed in with her wheat noodles, and a goblet of blood red sweet wine to wash it all down.
When others see her in a relaxed moment, she is reading a book of history of another culture. If not that, she is playing the twelve stringed harp for the little children to relieve them of their homesickness. To the onlooker, it would seem that she is practiced in all forms that would befit her position as royalty.
However, I have truly seen her relaxed side when away from the public eye. The book she carries with her now is not one of the tales of the Aztec or of the rise and fall of the House of Lucina. No, it is The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. I have seen blocks of pages cut out of her history books to hide the book as she would read it in gathered society. She doesn't like to read such boring tales and rules of debate, she wants to read tales of the heroic struggles against the darkness, where swords of folded steel flash in the midnight lightning and where arrows fly with the grace of the midsummer wind.
I have observed her, albeit for only a moment, in nothing but a tee shirt and sweatpants inside her room. The normal dress put away as if it was infested with a parasite until she needed to draw upon it once again. She seemed much more at peace with herself in the sleeping clothes that the silk dress.
Even her eating habits have changed when she thinks no one is looking. She loves food that requires no utensils to eat, as well as ones that might be considered messy. Ribs slathered in hot barbeque sauce by the slab, burgers topped with hot mustard and thick meaty bacon are her favorites when alone. What shocked me most is the amount of alcohol she can consume in one sitting. It was during the masquerade ball when I saw through her disguise as she downed twelve tankards of honeyed ale in the short span of two hours. Everyone confused her for Samus, causing the bounty hunter to accept their congratulations the following morning even through she had not the slightest idea what they were talking about. Everyone except for me that is.
Sometimes in my dreams, yes I can dream so stop acting surprised, I picture myself given skin. I am tall, maybe six feet tall, muscle is draped across my body like my wiring is to my current body. I am sitting down in the garden at dusk, when the sunset is seemingly made just for those who watch it. Surrounded by fireflies, I sit with my back against an old oak tree, Zelda's head on my shoulders. My voice is normal, one I cannot be embarrassed by. It is my own voice, not her favorites like Valentino, Bogart or even Van Dyke, but by the way her eyes look into my own, her emerald to my sapphire, it doesn't matter. She is in awe with it.
In my dream I read some of the greatest love sonnets ever created by any race. I compare her to the magnificent diamonds in the sky, I whisper in her graceful and pointed ears that I would choose to be with her even if all the realms of nature would be mine if I chose to ignore her. She speaks in the voice only the divines of myth could hope to have. She tells me that she feels the same, and we lean in for a kiss. Just as our lips meet, the whole land around me turns white, and my lenses open once again.
I then realize that is all I have with her. A dream, nothing more. I will never be able to read those sonnets, tell her how much she means to me, or promise that I will forever be there.
She is the Hylian princess, a diamond among glass beads, and I am a mechanical creation that will never have a chance to hold her in the rubber pads of my clamps. She will never accept me.
But I can still dream it.
Ike Griel paced back and forth in his room, his mind racing on what he was going to do. Never before had the commander of the mercenaries that bears his father's name had felt so indecisive and he was kicking himself for that fact every second. He felt comfortable leading an army into battle, where steel met steel in a chorus paying homage to the animals inside of humans. Matters like this… were obviously not his forte.
What was the problem? Well, it would have been difficult for the outsider to determine what exactly was troubling him. If one was to look into Ike's soul, the answer would have been clear as day. Ike was smitten by someone. He had always felt the feelings for this woman, but knew that it was improper to have such feelings, especially if they were reserved for Zelda.
Now, Ike knew that it would have been natural for any hot blooded man to feel lust and affection for such a graceful creature such as her. Indeed, for the longest time, that is what he told himself. It was nothing more then hormones that he had suppressed coming out. That lie worked for a while, but still the thoughts of actual affection and a longing to be with her not only physically but emotionally as well crept back into his mind.
What set those thoughts on fire only happened not even an hour ago. He was in the library, staying away from gathered crowds of spectators as well as the other smashers. He was not going to be looking for some dry and dusty tome about fighting to teach him, or a book about the history of a nation he hadn't heard of let alone pronounce correctly. Rather, he was looking for a fictional tale of honor and glory, told in a mythical realm created by a talented author.
So it was a great surprise for him to see the usually poised and elegant princess of Hyrule leaning out with one foot on the bookshelf ladder's top rung, trying to reach out to grab a book. She was muttering a full on torrent of swears, reaching for that one book. Ike unwittingly chose at that moment to clear his throat to get her attention, which might not have been the best of ideas in hindsight, as Zelda lost her balance and was sent tumbling to the ground.
Ike reached out and caught her, though several books unceremoniously fell to the ground in a mess. Both of them took a few deep breaths and surveyed the scene. It was then that Ike realized that Zelda was held in his arms like a bride on the wedding day, and Zelda must have noticed that too. She demanded that he put her down, thankfully not in the typical haughty tone one would expect from a princess. Ike promptly set her back on her feet.
She then looked around to find the book she must have been looking for. Ike asked her what she was looking for, her response was that she needed to replace a book someone took and gave to her to place it back. Ike didn't find it very believable, and noticed that she picked up The Return of the King, actually one of his favorites. He asked if he could have it, and she shook her head and clutched it tightly to her chest like another woman might hold on tightly to her child. She shook her head and he recalled their exchange.
"I thought you said you were putting a book away and I would like that book." Ike asked offhandedly.
"No, my lord Ike… you… you misunderstood me. I wanted to get this book for Link, after replacing his old one."
Ike shook his head. "Come, come princess, we both know that Link can't read any language besides Hylian. I thought you wouldn't stoop to read such escapis-"
"The trilogy is NOT escapism. I find it a very well thought out and written piece of literary art. The characters are real and the love between Aragorn and Arwen is simply to die for! I-" Zelda then realized that her mouth was moving and let out a small 'eep' much like that of a mouse. She rushed past him the book still tightly clutched to her chest. All Ike could do was stand there in a slightly confused and embarrassed manner.
It may not have seemed much, but it was the first time Ike had seen the Princess and him have something very much in common. Granted, this seemed like an odd thing to get worked up on, but he had pent up feelings for heaven only knows how long, and he needed to tell them to her.
But how? That was the question he had on his mind. There was a problem with him when it came to females. He was actually very shy, despite what his demeanor appeared to be. He could drink ale and shoot the breeze like any of the other lads, he could give a battle speech if the situation demanded it, and he could talk with his friends in gathered groups. But when it came to the opposite sex, especially one as alluring as Zelda, he was not just shy, he was embarrassingly shy. He knew many things on how to please women and ask the out, but when he was actually in front of them, he tensed up and lost all hope that he would have a change talking to them. He needed someone to help him with that, though there was a problem with that train of thought. Who was there to help him with such a delicate matter as those of the heart? He couldn't trust one of the female smashers, because they were either closely linked to the rumor mill or Zelda would catch wind of it before long. No he needed a fellow male like himself to help him with this predicament. Then again that didn't help him find that one who could really help him with it, as each of them had their faults.
Marth seemed like the obvious choice to help him with this. While he wasn't a player, he did have plenty of the female smashers on close speaking terms. Maybe he could help him figure out a way to explain to Zelda his feelings for her and open his heart before the princess. However, it was that same connection to the other smashers that made him decide against it. Even though Marth would respect his want for discretion, there was always the off chance that someone would pry it free from his lips, even if it was unintentional. So despite his friendship to the prince, he decided that it wasn't the best option.
Then there was Link. Of all the smashers, Ike and Link had the greatest of bonds together. They trusted each other with their lives, so to say, in the brawls. Outside the ring, they did just about everything together and had very similar interests. He might be able to help him. But then again there was his direct connection to the princess of Hyrule. He was sworn to protect her, even though he himself stated on multiple occasions that she should be protecting him, and look out for her best interests. So that protector instinct might get in the way of helping him.
Ike ran his fingers though the thick locks of hair on his head, trying to figure out any one who wasn't a villain or new to the game. The latter would have been too awkward to approach for help on this, and the former would use this information as ammunition against him. Mario and Luigi were preoccupied running their plumbing business so Ike knew he shouldn't get in the way of that. Lucario was more focused on his meditation and being one with the elements then the plight of mortals. The children would not be a help. He then found the only one to help him, and he sighed in defeat. He would do.
While Ike considered R.O.B one of his good friends, it did seem back-ass-wards to ask a robot for help to love a female. Usually it was the other way around, but then again everything was the other way around when it came to the mansion and its occupants. R.O.B would be a great help in this endeavor, given some of the conversations he had with the robot a while ago. R.O.B told him in a James Cagney voice of all the marvels he could do, without sounding too boastful. For a glorified mobile computer on tracks, R.O.B could perform some feats. Ike opened his door and began to head down the hall to find R.O.B's room. That is when the next problem entered his mind as he walked the carpeted corridors.
How would he broach the subject to the automaton? Hi R.O.B, I need your help because I want to have Zelda fall in love with me. Robots must have understood logic, so maybe he could broach it with a more rational tone, maybe ask for his expertise in the Hylian culture and what exactly turns a woman on, so to say. But no matter how many times Ike asked the question in his head, it always came off wrong. It made him sound like someone who all he cared about was getting in bed with Zelda no matter the cost.
He reached R.O.B's room and paused as he looked at the door. Ike took in a deep breath and looked a it one last time. There was no going back from this. But then again, he was sure R.O.B could help him with. So he closed his eyes and opened the door. Judging by the mechanical whine he heard, he must have scared the poor bugger.
The sound of the my door crashing in on itself took me completely offguard.
In my surprise, I didn't have a voice selected so my preset voice let off a mechanical yelp. My head piece spun around on it's socket to see the intruder. Ike, the azure mercenary form Tellius, was closing the door behind him. "Haven't you ever-" I stop when I realize I am using my basic voice, it is timid and child like. I hate it so. I quickly select a much more masculine voice. "There is this thing called knocking. And I think you would do yourself good if you tried it out sometimes."
Ike, a man who had almost single handed overthrew an empire, killed a goddess, and was the victor of the last season's tournament, was approaching the cusp of an emotion that I can only describe as embarrassment. Given his body temperature rising at a steady rate as one would expect for someone embarrassed. "Yes R.O.B, I understand. I… I just have so much on my mind right now." He sounded confused, and judging by the pheromones and other organic chemicals I could detect moving through his body, someone was involved.
"Well, it looks like this is going to be a while. So take a seat, I'll get you something to drink." I replied and Ike nodded, pulling up one of the few guest chairs I had. I go for one of the cupboards and search around for a vial full of a clear liquid. Grain alcohol, one hundred proof, it was high enough to clean up my internal wiring, but low enough so id didn't eat through organic tissue. I grab two glasses with my other limb and bring them to the table.
"I didn't know robots drank alcohol." Ike stated as I filled his glass with some of the liquid. "I mean in real life, I have seen some on television that are per-fabricated chronic alcoholics."
"Many of us do, even though it isn't some sort of fuel for many of us. I run on nuclear fusion, and this helps my system cleans itself of grime and other impurities." I open my mouth port and let the ethanol substitute flow through my system. Ike took a sip of his and instinctively winced at the sharpness of the spirit. "You won't die, lightweight." I said as I emptied the glass and set it aside to pour another glass later. "Alright, what is the problem you so desperately need help on?"
Ike ran his fingers through his locks of hair, another sign that he was obviously embarrassed as this was a creature habit for him. "I… I need your assistance in a delicate matter of the heart." He took a deep breath as he carefully considered the next words as if they were to be his last. "There is this young woman that I really like, and I think we both have a connection to her. I needy our help in-"
I switch to a tone with much more authority for the moment. "Enough of the adjective game. Who is she and what do you want me to help you with?"
The tone caught Ike by surprise, and nodded sucking in another deep breath of air. "Zelda Harkinian and I need your help with who she is and how I can help confess my feelings to her." If my mouth piece had a hinge akin to that of a jaw, it would be on the floor at this moment. Ike was in love with Zelda? Granted the chemical demons called hormones would have made any man, gay or straight, to lust after Zelda. But I wasn't seeing a great amount of lust in Ike's eyes. I was seeing what I have seen in Mario's when he talks highly of Peach, and in Robin's when Lucina's name is mentioned.
"Now, why would you think I would be the one to help you in this situation?" I ask the Hero of the Blue Flame.
"Because you know just about everything of everyone's culture in the mansion, R.O.B. That and you see things many others can't." His assessment is true in both ways. I have dedicated a lot of my spare time to learn about the cultures of others to add to my data banks. I know just about all the folk dances, ballads, cuisines and traditions. From Crimean to Porkish, they are all understood and can be put in to practice by me.
Looking at all what I have gathered from my assessments of the smashers, Ike does compliment Zelda perfectly. Many in the mansion, and myself at first I am embarrassed to admit, viewed Ike as nothing more then a greedy simpleton with a big sword. However, while that stereotype is still used against him from time to time, many have seen who he truly is. He is a man who while has the end goal of making a profit from his craft of death, he has a great heart, and has a strict set of moral codes he will not break even under the most trying circumstances. I remember one of his quotes when we were sparring together. Honor, no matter how dire the battle, never desert it.
In that simple sentence, I saw who he truly was. When I mentally placed him side by side with Zelda, I saw that they were almost one in the same. Not by attitudes or credos, but by interests as well. Where as Zelda's private life reflected Ike's public life, they were both fans of science fiction, fantasy, and other mythical tales. They shared so many things in common, it was hard to belive they had not grown up side by side.
I looked to Ike and realized that he had a chance with Zelda. And he was coming to me, humbly asking for my help. He was unused clay in my hands and I was the potter who would mold him into something great. I realized that there was a sharp pang of jealousy that he would be with Zelda instead of me, but then again, love is not jealous. Love is wanting one to be happy, even if it is at the cost of my own.
I let a sigh come out of my mouth as I come out of my mental debate. I noticed that Ike was still talking, as if he was still trying to convince me. "Alright, alright Ike. I'll help you with this situation. I will show you Zelda's interests, the dances she loves, and things she holds dear in her personal life. All I ask of you is that when I tell you to do something, you do it. No hesitation or pause of any kind. I need your trust and I need you to trust me with this."
Ike nodded furiously. "Thank you so much R.O.B. I promise I won't make you regret doing this for me. When do you want to start?"
"We can start first thing in the morning tomorrow." I replied as I poured myself another glass. "There is a mid season celebration at the end of this week, so we will have a chance for you to confess your feelings for Zelda there, and with my help you will be able to show her how much you love her."
Ike nodded and stood up to leave, a bright smile played on the edges of his lips. I drank another glass. I guess I would have my chance to confess my feelings to her, but it would not come from my lips, rather from those of Ike's. It may not have been the way it would have appeared in my dreams, but at the same time it really didn't matter.
As long as I made her happy, that is all that mattered.
