15.
I lose track of time easily. When nights blend into days. It's especially hard because the sun is stagnant. Going close to the amusement park paints the world in forever dusk and it gives the illusion it is later or earlier than it is.
It's a phenomenon that makes time difficult to discern.
But I do know time passes. I have to trace a knife along my face to get rid of facial hair or take a knife along the hair atop my head when it gets too thick and long. I used to have it shaggy but lately, since I've been trekking around so much and perspiring, I've been keeping it much shorter. At first, it was weird to get used to having my ears and neck exposed, but now it's comfortable.
I also use Margot as a clock. She changes. I call it the Margot-madness clock.
But I break that clock today.
Pascal wakes me from my sleep and I sit up, groggy. Pascal is going on and on about a machine in the amusement park who was killed by 2B and Nines a long time ago, before I met them.
"What about it, Pascal?" I rub sleep from my eyes.
"It's Margot. I'm afraid she's—she's become like that unpleasant songstress."
I stand up and grab Cruel Oath and level Pascal with a pensive look.
"I'm sorry, but the children are in danger."
I nod.
Killing something to protect another. It is like an unwritten law in this world.
"Just drive her out, please." Pascal follows me to the exit of our rickety, old home.
There's the dust of rain—a drizzle from not long ago. It's still in the air. I'm not going to scare her away because that won't guarantee anyone's safety.
The machines are panicking. I must've been in a dead sleep to not have heard them. My vision clears with wakefulness and I head along the walkways until I get to the heart of the chaos.
From behind me, Pascal screams.
I've never heard him make such a sound.
Ahead, Margot is trying to eat another female machine.
To the other machines, it must be horrifying. Especially for the children.
But I've seen machine bodies scattered in the wilderness, having died in a variety of ways, and I've taken out a few.
It isn't hard to slice Margot's head off since she is preoccupied. I put a boot to her torso to hep me leverage the stab, and I drive the sword down into her neck, piercing her core.
I step back as she twitches to a stop.
The victimised machine stares at Margot, and then at me.
I glance back. The other villagers stare at me, too.
The children are too frightened to ask me to play now.
None of the machines approach me.
I've scared them. They don't understand.
I tell Pascal I should probably go for a while.
I gather a bunch of food I've stored and some extra clothes and slip them into my pack. I tell Pascal I'll be back, maybe in a few months. I've gotta give the machines here time to understand or forget or something. But they are afraid of me, in any case. Violence really bothers them.
Pascal tells me I don't have to leave.
But I go anyway.
I stop at the river to fill my water bladder. I sit on some stones, boots off to the side to let the water trickle along my bare feet to soothe them. I've left home before. In the past, I've been gone for a week, even two. But this feels different. More permanent.
I haven't exactly been shunned—I left on my own—but it still feels like I'm unwanted. I shut my eyes and I'm back with Nines and Nines is staring at me in awe, his pod announcing I am a human, and Nines gravitates towards me like it's the most natural thing. Until meeting the androids—even 2B, as elusive as she was and as much as I hate her—I did not know what it meant to belong.
There are times where the pinch of familiarity with the machines in the village is enough, but it is not the same. It has felt like a strange place since I learned what I am. I kept clinging to it like it was home, but it's not. It never has been.
Sitting at the river now, I'm not even sure I'll ever go back. Nothing permanent. I'll visit.
I should've left with Nines as soon as I met him. Not to the bunker. But just with him.
He would've been beneficial beyond measure. He was analysing the ribbon, and if he could analyse me and the ribbon, we could've figured out what it all meant. If there are any humans alive, we would have found them. This is something I can't prove yet I treat it like a fact. I should have ordered him to do things: stay with me, help me find my kind, protect me, and don't let 2B fucking kill him.
A rustling startles me.
I turn, pulling my feet up and out of the water.
A machine life form's head is poking out from the tall grass near the trees above.
I tense and set my hand on Cruel Oath.
It waddles out of the brush. My hand leaves the sword. The machine isn't hostile, but I'm unsure if that's because it really isn't hostile or if it's because it cannot be.
It has no arms. It has one tier for a body, two feet, and a head. Basically, it's a head with feet.
Very unthreatening.
It stops waddling and stares at me.
"Hello?" I try.
It says nothing.
It seems half-made so maybe it never got vocal functions installed. Its green eyes glow as it watches me.
Well, whatever. It's curious so I'll let it stare. It can't hurt me.
There are all sorts of machine life forms with all different personalities and habits and goals. Most are hostile but the ones that aren't are individualistic and even contemplative, with an innocence that is almost disturbing. Machines are the ones who likely killed my family and maybe even my whole kind, but here I've been mingling with them my whole life.
Killing Margot didn't phase me at all. If it was Pascal, it'd be a different story, and maybe that's because Pascal is more advanced than the other machines. I'm not sure what my criteria is to care for something, to protect it or to not bat an eye at destroying it.
The more I explore, the more bodies I encounter—machine and android alike—and the less it affects me. Maybe that has something to do with it. I'm getting accustomed to this world. If I stopped to feel sad over every dead body I would be in a constant state of mourning.
I dry my feet and pull my boots back on with a little yawn.
The machine trudges down to the bank and peers down at the water. I sling my pack over my back.
"See you." I head up around the water, using a fallen log to help me across. What should I do first? Check on Nines and 2B or investigate a strange door I found in the city ruins?
Nines, first. I want to see him.
But maybe not. I want to see him but I don't want to see that. Him working alongside 2B, happily striking up conversation after conversation like nothing is amiss.
A plopping sound makes me turn back around.
The machine tried to hop onto the log, but fell into the water.
It rolls, unable to right itself.
I frown. I crawl back onto the log and flop on my stomach, and with a grunt, pull the machine head out.
I carry its heaviness across and set it on the bank.
It peers up at me.
I sigh and rub my arms. "Don't do dumb shit." I adjust the straps of my back and then carry on through the trees. I'm most likely to find Nines and 2B around the Resistance Camp, but it's still not the best probability. They are on the move a lot. Nines said they do a lot of machine investigations. He's a scanner model so he gathers intel on the enemy as a primary job, but he is also 2B's support unit. By watching them, I've learned it's as busy as it sounds.
As I pass through the trees, blotted in the sunlight that pokes through from the leaves above, that sensation returns. The prickling at the base of my neck and the soft burn between my shoulder blades.
Like I'm being watched.
I glance back.
In the distance, the machine is toddling after me. Sure, it's kind of watching me, but it's not what's triggering this reaction in me. Instinct, I think. It's like I'm being hunted, maybe.
What is it?
An animal?
A hostile machine?
I take in a slow breath.
The head-machine catches up, stops at my feet, and stares up at me.
"What?" I poke it with my toe. "I'm not doing anything you'd be interested in, so go on." I rarely meet machines outside the village that show attachment. If they aren't hostile, they are usually distracted by some obsession, like the amusement park machines and their partying and their "happiness".
I resume.
When I get to the barricade near the cliffs, my heart is hammering.
Something is definitely on my tail, on purpose.
I pass through the barricade and a chipmunk darts off. I peer back.
The armless machine is in the far distance, still following.
It's determined, I guess.
I wait, fidgeting. Whatever's watching me hasn't attacked, but it's definitely hostile. There's a thick energy about it—something that is strong but cautious, maybe. If it's advanced, it might be wondering what I am before it makes a move. Would calling out to it be suicide?
The machine finally catches up. I slip the pack off and hold it open to the machine.
It surveys the bag for a moment and then walks right in.
It's trusting?
My jaw clenches as I lift the back over my back. So. Much. Heavier. It's doable, but I'm gonna be going at a slower pace.
I start along the cliff. "Just so you know, you may be small, but you are damn heavy."
No response.
I tighten my grip on my pack, take a deep breath, and continue on my way.
AN: Stalker Ribbon being upset he has stalker(s). Hypocrite.