It had been a while. Sometimes self-pity was not the answer. Time was one thing, but too much time was another. Answers were required. A phone rang.
"Penny. Not. Now." Harshly whispered the stranger's voice.
If not now, then when? "Am I a joke?"
There was quiet. Rustling. "What?"
"Am I a joke?"
"No, I don't think you're a joke," sighed the stranger, obviously displeased with the fact that he had to deal with her. "But now is not the time."
"I did not ask if you thought I was a joke. I was asking if I was."
"Penny." The stranger swore under his breath. "Listen to me. Now is not the time."
But when? And then? She could feel herself falling apart. "Understood."
More rustling. She could not bring herself to look. She did not want to see the stranger. A person who was not. He spoke once more. "What's going on Penny? You almost got me killed."
"I apologize. However-"
"Good."
The phone buzzed.
PP: What am I?
BW: Are we seriously doing this?
PP: What am I?
BW: You're Penny.
PP: Who is Penny? What is it? Does it have a purpose? Is it a sad attempt by a lonely man to have progeny of his own? Or is it simply a weapon with no government left to wield it.
BW: Penny. Please.
PP: Please answer my questions.
BW: You're a good person.
PP: Does it have a purpose?
BW: Do any of us have a purpose?
PP: Machines are made with purposes. Machines are built to perform specific actions. A machine without a purpose is no more valuable than its weight in scrap. Am I scrap?
BW: You are not scrap, Penny. I don't know how your home situation was, but you're more than a machine.
PP: Am I? You say one thing, and then say another. You say many things.
BW: I don't know, not really. I don't know what you are, but I know what you're not. I know you're not a bad person. I know that you're lonely. I know that you are more than a weapon. I know that. I know that I got scared.
PP: That is not a confirmation of who I am.
BW: Because no one ever knows. Its what being human is. We define ourselves by what we like or don't like. Yet there is no ideal that is purely "us" which can be comprehended.
PP: Explain.
BW: Just because I can tell you exactly what I look like, what I like, dislike, do, have done, and haven't done, doesn't mean I know exactly who I am. I can't even say I'm a good person.
PP: With that much information, one should be able to explain who they are.
BW: Yet I can't. There are somethings you just don't, can't know.
PP: I am confused.
BW: Humans aren't simple. We behave on patterns, and yet we act unpredictably. We change how we act depending on those around us, and the daily reactions we have change with each passing thought. So no, Penny, you're not a joke. You're just lonely, and scared.
"Are you not?" Crackled her hoarse voice through the speaker. Dove bit his tongue. She continued. "Are you ashamed?"
"It's not shame." Hesitantly started Dove. "I. I don't want to mess this up. But I guess I can't."
"It is not all about you."
"I know that. But." Dove could feel his throat closing up.
"But you forgot how to trust."
"Oh, I can trust just fine."
"Can you?"
"Yes, I am capable of trust. I'm not some rampaging paranoid."
"Then why do you push me away? Do you not like me?" Dove could feel the innocence in her voice. It scalded him.
He waited. She waited. He could no longer wait. "I don't want you to like me."
"Why?"
"When I said that you have an expiration date, I meant me. I can only talk about myself. I'm a selfish bastard, who only thinks of himself, and what everything means to him, and no one else. I'm scared because I think others don't like me. I'm lonely because I'm scared. I'm scared because I'm paranoid, because I'm lonely. I'm my own grimm."
"You say that you only talk about yourself, but you talk to me."
"About myself! How does that change anything?" Pleaded Dove.
"About my future. While I do admit, you framed it in a way, so it is the absence of you which is important, you still focused on me. You don't want me to feel loss, do you?"
"Loss is healthy."
"Grief is healthy. Obsession with loss is not."
"Hey! Obsession with Loss is fine! It's a perfectly good meme!" Shouted a voice behind them. Dove swiftly turned around, and saw two guards partially entrenched in the snow, with their rifles pointed at them.
"Don't make any rash actions," commented the other one. "We've been asked to take you alive. However, if the need arises, we will shoot."
"I'm itching for a real person to shoot," moaned the first guard. "Ooooh~ I'm just looking for a reason to dump my magazine's content into a bunch of little holes."
Even if the second guard did not break his bearing, Dove could feel the man's enjoyment of life drain out of his body in that moment. He could empathize with that. "And I'm looking forward to not having to do paperwork for each bullet in the snow. Please finish up and come with us."
"Wait," said the first guard as he craned his neck to get a glimpse behind Dove. "Is that a scroll?"
"Appears so." Answered the other guard.
"And you're making calls on it?"
"Technically," answered Dove. "Sorry Penny, but it looks like we'll have to have this conversation at a later date."
"Did you just give yourself a death flag?" Droned the second guard.
"It appears so." Answered Penny. "I, myself, am not sure what his obsession with death is."
"I am not obsessed with death!"
"I am inclined to agree with you, phone voice." The second guard gestured with his gun. "Now, assuming you like this man, can you please convince him to come peacefully? Sergeant only wishes to have a talk with him."
"That weird guy in the cabin?"
The two guards looked at one another, nodded, and answered in perfect synchronization, "Yeah, he's the weird guy in the cabin."
"Good to know. Talk later Penny, hanging up now."
"Goodbye Dove. We do need to continue this talk."
Everything was in place. The gates were locked. The Major's water was refilled. The little one had received a new book. Now, if those two could do the bare necessity, then his day will have gone perfectly. It was all about the little victories. A solid knock resonated on the perfect pine door.
"Enter~" hummed the sergeant.
A helmeted head popped in. 432. His personal favorite. He appreciated the struggles of raising another's child. "We got him to come peacefully. Where do you want him?"
He hummed. Now normally, he wished to not waste time, the scene simply was not right. It was too dark outside. Not an idyllic meeting that the two should have. "Place him in one of the holding cells for the night. I simply cannot have a dignified meeting in this setting. The darkness makes it seem too much like an interrogation."
The man nodded. "Got it, taking him there then." The door closed for a good minute before it opened once more with all three of them. Oh, how he loved it when suspense had a happy ending. The first guard kept his rifle on the stranger at all times, while the other performed the simple rituals to enter the base: moving aside the carpet, opening the hatch, disabling the incendiary trap with his key, and descending into the darkness below. He had quite the day ahead of him. Lots to talk about.
