Chapter 11

Turing Test

"I don't paint dreams or nightmares, I paint my own reality."

- Frida Kahlo

Using Chaos Control required knowing where one had been and where one was going. It also helped to have a Chaos Emerald. Unfortunately for Sonic, he had neither, but he did know what he wanted, and that made the rest secondary.

He drifted through the fabric of spacetime itself, and he had done this before. It happened any time a special stage collapsed, and in his palm, he squeezed his return ticked: the halved Chaos drive.

He focused on the drive. The energy from the special stage and the energy emanating from the drive had distinctly different wavelengths, and these energies were stranger than any form of Chaos energy Sonic had ever seen. This would be tricky.

Nevertheless, Emerald or no Emerald, directions or no directions, Sonic would make it work. He always made it work.

He had to, not for his sake but for Metal's sake.

Though the wavelengths differed, Sonic squeezed energy from space into the drive. It streamed through his body and into his hand, and he forced it into the drive despite the blistering heat welling in his palm. To use Chaos Control, he had to force the energies to a focal point, and the Chaos drive was all he had.

Sonic saw his opportunity: the waves were beginning to overlap. He routed all the energy through his body into a single point in space. It burst through the fabric of spacetime itself. Reality shattered, and he fell.

He landed on his feet. The dull thud of his leg against the hardwood was the sweetest sound Sonic had ever heard.

He was back.

Or at least he was close. Remembering the drive burning in his palm, Sonic hurled it to the floor and quickly shook his hand in the air.

He stood some type of art museum, although the lightening was terrible if he had hoped to actually view the artwork. It was dim, unnaturally so, and the darkness seemed to mute the corners of the room from existence.

Sonic rubbed his temples as his headache pounded from inside his skull. He needed to rest, and above all, he needed to sleep. He had completely lost track of time here, but he was sure it had been countless hours, maybe even days, since he had last slept, and even he had his limits.

But he couldn't rest yet. He had to save Metal first. It was his duty as a hero.

He clutched his head as he stumbled into the hall, and he bumped into something.

The enormous mirror stretched before him, and he gaped at what he saw. His reflection stared back at him, identical in every way, including his newly minted robotic leg. He closed his eyes as he rubbed his forehead.

He looked at the mirror again. The cybernetic pieces of his reflection had spread like a cancer, and his copy's leg was now robotic above the knee. Sonic gulped, and tore his vision to his own leg.

It was only robotic below the knee, just as he remembered. He looked back at the mirror, watching as the corruption consumed the flesh and spit out iron.

He pressed his palm against the mirror, then his forehead. His reflection copied the gesture as the wave of metal consumed its face. He sighed and looked away.

This was his fault. He had abandoned Metal, and it was his responsibility to find him. Metal could be in all sorts of trouble, and Sonic did not have the time to wallow in existential self-pity.

If he was a hero, it was time he started acting like one. Metal was out there, and he was going to find him.

He paced around the room, though he stopped as his breath ran thin. There was not even a single door, but this didn't surprise him; he had come to accept nothing here would ever make sense.

This was a puzzle, and like all puzzles, there had to be some solution. Nega loved to play games, so some trick had to be the answer. But Sonic knew Metal was close. He had used the Chaos drive to get here, and it had kept them together before, so Metal just had to be close.

But, where? The room contained nothing but the paintings, the hardwood and the beige wallpaper, plus the mirror that reflected everything perfectly.

Everything except himself.

Sonic plopped to the ground and ran his fingers between his quills. He hated puzzles. They were slow, tedious, and pointless. It was why he had friends; they were supposed to solve the puzzles.

If only Metal were here. Metal could solve any puzzle in the blink of an eye. Metal was smart because he could see the patterns where Sonic only saw the noise.

He sprawled out on the ground and traced the details of the ceiling with his eyes. The more he tried to focus, the more the darkness and the freezing cold crawled further into the edges of his vision.

He leapt up and sprinted to the wall. He couldn't think, nor could he stop. That was the only way out.

Before him stood a painting, and its imagery was so bizarre he failed to comprehend any meaning. He reached around it. It was heavy, but poorly mounted, and Sonic heaved it to the ground without much effort.

Staring at the space behind, he saw nothing. Nothing but the wall.

He dashed to the next painting, throwing it to the ground, and ran again. Each painting carelessly landed in a pile, but he couldn't stop, not until he threw each and every painting from their frames.

As the last painting fell, he stood with nothing but the sounds of his pounding heart and breathless pant.

Nothing had happened, no hints, no change, not anything. Paintings now scattered across the floor, and he was still as confused as ever. He groaned, threw his hands over his head, and leaned his forehead against the wall.

The wall gave way. He looked up, shocked to see a single painting was still in front of him. The background was beige, now his least favorite color, and all it depicted was a plain pipe and some unintelligible language.

Sonic tore it from the wall, and in the gap behind, yet another mirror cast the reflection of the room. This image was even more distorted than the last, because not only did the paintings still hang from its walls, his reflection was now entirely corrupted by cybernetics. Further, instead of coping is movement, his reflection merely laid motionless on the floor.

He slammed his forehead against the mirror, and immediately regretted the pain welling in his head. He hated this. The mirrors, the paintings, none of it made any sense.

As the pain receded, he stared at the mirror inches from his eyes. He had thought that was his reflection in the glass, but the more he looked at it, the more it looked just like Metal Sonic, slouching against the wall and half leaning over with his arms limp at his side.

The realization crawled into his mind.

"Metal! I've been looking everywhere for you," Sonic said as he squeezed his face into the glass.

Sonic turned around and high-fived himself in the other the mirror. Metal was unharmed, and once they were reunited, he could finally rest.

His gaze shifted back to Metal, and he froze. Metal was on the other side of the glass, but he hadn't moved and his optical screen lacked its familiar red glow.

Sonic pounded glass. "Metal? You there?"

Metal laid still. Sonic's arms fell to his side, and he exhaled a single breath. He had been wrong. It was just the mirror. He had fallen for Nega's trick, and Metal was still gone.

As Sonic turned away, Metal's voice cracked, and it was so low he barely heard it. "So you're leaving again? Am I not even worth the time it would take to mock me anymore?"

Sonic's blood ran cold. Slowly, he turned back.

"Metal? Is that really you? Are you okay?"

Metal optics flickered to life. "Am I okay? What, now you suddenly care? Or do you still think I'm incapable of feeling?"

Sonic opened his mouth, but no words came out. He had believed as much, and he had treated Metal like an object because of it. A hero would never act that way, and yet Sonic was guilty of treating Metal like a mindless clone.

"I'm…" The words caught in his throat. He had no idea what to say, but he had to say something. "I'm sorry about what I said."

Sonic remembered what he said. He had called Metal a fake, a copy, and he had done so deliberately.

"I'm sorry, really sorry, that I called you a copy," Sonic choked. He had never admitted fault before, in part because he had never been at fault before, but he was a hero with a duty to Metal. "I only said that to win the argument. I was wrong, and I'm really sorry."

Metal said nothing. He merely sat motionlessly and stared at his hands.

Sonic bit his lip. This was his fault, but he was going to fix. He now understood Metal was his equal. Not his copy, not a mindless robot, but a sentient and intelligent being capable of feeling joy and pain just like himself.

"It was, uh, suboptimal on my part," Sonic said. He tried and utterly failed to smile.

Metal looked away. "You only spoke the truth. Never apologize for the truth."

"No, I was wrong. I'm sorry, really sorry I said that. It's just—I was in so much pain, and I wasn't thinking clearly."

Metal buried his face in his hands. "But you weren't wrong. You are the real Sonic, and I am nothing. There is no reason for me to even exist."

"No—! I'm sorry Metal, really I am, I didn't mean any of it!"

There was no response. Sonic cursed and hit the pane with his fist. The glass vibrated beneath his forehead.

"Come on, let's get out of here. I promise it'll be better once we're out of here!"

"Why bother? Free or trapped, none of it matters." Metal's voice died to a whisper. "I can't kill you. I can't do it. It is the only reason I exist, and I can't do even that. I'm worse nothing."

"Don't say that! It does matter!"

Metal gazed at the painting of the pipe that stood above him and the splinters between his fingers.

"I'm not the real Sonic. Even if I could kill you, I still wouldn't be. Destroying the pipe didn't make the painting real."

Sonic clenched his fists. It was his own words that did this to Metal, and he would use those same words to make things right.

"You're right, that picture isn't real. It's not a pipe. But—"

Metal's gaze wandered to him, and Sonic nodded. He knew how to fix this.

"You're right; the painting isn't a pipe. It's a work of art! In fact, this painting is better than the original. I bet more people know about this painting than know the pipe. This painting is famous in a way the original pipe never could be!"

When Metal said nothing, Sonic added, "Plus, if you think about it, the pipe and the painting—neither is truly the original or the copy. They're simply two different things that happen to look alike."

Metal stared into his eyes, then sharply turned away as he said, "But the pipe has a purpose. Someone created it for a reason, and the pipe fulfills its role. I was created to kill you, and I can't. It's impossible."

Metal collapsed again, and his optics faded. "Just like this canvas, I'll never actually do what I was created to do. There is no reason for me to exist."

Sonic clenched his fist. He could fix this but he needed to choose his words with care. "So, do you think I have a purpose?"

"Yes. You're a hero. That's your purpose."

"And who gave me that purpose?"

Metal froze, and his eyes flickered. "Your purpose is to be the hero, and mine is to neutralize you. But while you can be a hero, I can never kill you."

"You didn't answer my question. Where did my purpose come from?"

When Metal said nothing, Sonic continued, "I chose my purpose. No one gave it to me. All of us, including you, come into this world without purpose. It's up to each of us to give ourselves purpose. You can't choose how you were created, but you can choose your future."

Metal opened his palm and watched the dust fall to the ground.

"I don't have a choice. I am nothing more than my programming. Just as your DNA controls you, the set of instructions in my processors control me. I can't choose my purpose any more than you could choose to stop breathing."

"You think neither of us have a choice. I'm controlled by my nature, and you're nothing more than my copy."

Metal nodded.

"But, what if choice is our nature? I chose to insult you, and I chose to come back and apologize. And before, you chose to help me, more than once, so we could both escape. Both of us made choices that brought us to this moment."

Sonic paused, but Metal looked unconvinced, so he continued, "Okay, let's do it your way. You think you're a copy of me, right?"

Metal nodded.

"And you agree my purpose is to be a hero?"

Metal nodded again.

"But no one gave me that purpose. I chose it. So if you are a copy of me, and I chose my own purpose in life, that means…"

Sonic trailed off and waited. After a pause, Metal said, "If I'm a copy of you, then I have the same features as you. And if you can choose your own purpose, then by modus ponens, I can too."

The flickering of Metal's optics intensified. "If I am a copy of you, I can choose my own purpose. But choosing my own purpose would make me not a copy. But if I'm not a copy, I cannot choose. If I cannot choose, then I am a copy—"

Sonic cut him off. "Your life is what you make it, Metal. It is for all of us, and its meaning is something we all struggle with. Sometimes, there are no clear answers, and you feel like only the struggle exists."

Sonic kicked the wall with his robotic leg and looked back to Metal.

"It's the struggle for meaning that makes us alive. All of us, whether we're made of metal, or flesh, or...both."

After a long pause, Metal stood up. Dust and dents covered his armor, and his optics barely glowed. Sonic realized he wasn't the only one who needed to rest.

"I appreciate the effort, even though I'm not sure I agree with your reasoning," Metal said.

"But there is still a critical difference. Your escape matters. You would be missed. But me? No one cares about me, and even Eggman would only regret the loss of computer parts."

The sweat in Sonic's quills turned cold. "That's not true. I—"

A flicker of uncertainty flashed through his mind, but he brushed it away. He would make this right.

"I would miss you."

Metal's optics brightened. "You would?"

"Of course I would! Look, I know we've not always been on the best of terms. But, I want you to know I respect you, Metal. I've always respected you.

"And...and...I would miss you if you were gone. You're fast, faster than anyone else I've ever race. No one else even comes close to keeping up with me."

Sonic scratched behind his quills and looked aside. "So you better get out of here, because I'm counting on you! You and me, we're going to compete in the race of the century once we're free!"

Metal's gaze was intense, and he stared directly into Sonic's eyes. "Do...do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do! There's no one else I'd rather race. You want to show the world you're better than me? Well then, you'd better get out of here!"

Metal took a step forward. "Maybe you're right. Or maybe you're not. I don't know anymore. But, I do know one thing."

He lifted his hand to the glass. He spread his fingers out, and Sonic copied the gesture until their fingers aligned.

"I'll never derive the truth if I stay here," Metal said. "So, you had better prepare yourself, because I will beat you in that race."

Sonic grinned. "You're on, Mets! But first, let's make a break for it!"

Sonic stepped back and spun into the air. He smashed to the mirror. It refused to give, and he ricocheted back. He fell to the ground and rubbed his head, frowning at the measly single chip in the glass.

"You're not going to break it that way. This glass is designed to spread the impact across its molecular lattice. You need to focus the impact in a single point. Like this—"

Metal hit the glass with his shoulder and leaned forward.

"Spin dash again. The impact should center on a single point."

Sonic leaped up and crashed into the glass. Though he still fell backward, this time the glass fractured into a web of cracks. Sonic went to jump again, but Metal stopped him.

"No, if the glass shatters, it will cut you. I'll come over there."

Metal stepped back, then ran forward and jumped. The glass shattered, and Metal tumbled to the floor. He skidded across the hardwood on his forehead and came to a rest as he bumped Sonic's shoe.

Sonic knelt down and offered his hand to Metal. Metal looked at his own hand and hesitated. Slowly, he placed his palm in Sonic's hand, and Sonic lifted him to his feet.

"I'm glad you're okay, Mets. I really was worried about you," Sonic said as he tried to release his hand from Metal's grasp. He had let go, but Metal was still clutching his fingers.

"You care. You actually care. You...You're the only—" Metal dropped Sonic's hand. He threw his arms behind Sonic's back and pulled him forward, locking his chin into Sonic's shoulder. Sonic, caught completely off guard, could do nothing but stand with his arms limp.

He had done it. He was a hero, and he had made it right, so now he deserved a break. The light chipped away from his vision, and the the darkness leaked through the edges of his consciousness. He was so tired, and the simple act of standing was a colossal chore. He leaned over, shifting his weight and his exhaustion onto Metal by throwing his hands over Metal's back. The heat from Metal's engine flooded over his skin, and Sonic suddenly remembered just how cold he was. His muscles gave up entirely. And his eyelids, they were so heavy. It couldn't hurt to let them fall, just for a moment.

Metal's voice wavered as he said, "You're the only person who ever actually cared about me."

As Metal let go, Sonic's muscles still refused. He wobbled, and Metal had to grab his arm before he nearly tripped.

"Sonic, are you okay? You look exhausted. When was the last time you slept? Not just knocked unconscious, but actually slept?"

The room was spinning, and so was his head. He felt light, so light, like he would float away into the gaps of his vision.

He stared blankly at the darkness. "I...I don't know."

The cold crept back over his skin, and his headache pounded inside his skull. His eyelids were so heavy, and his legs were gelatin. And the floor, it looked so comfortable.

His vision gave up, and he fell forward. He would have finally reunited with the floor had something not caught him. The world was cold, and the only thing he felt was Metal's fingers pressing against the vein on his neck.

"Your pulse! You're still suffering from shock! Were you running? In your condition, extreme cardiovascular activity can be fatal!"

Metal's voice was distant, and Sonic tried to nod, although he may have just been falling again. He wasn't sure which it was, but he was sure that Metal must be carrying him because that wonderful warmth was finally flowing back into his skin.