This monologue is a little unique from the others, and I hope a welcome surprise. I was inspired to write it when I was exploring the Bionis' Leg in a rainstorm and passed the mechon under the cliffs.

The rain pours down in sheets as we remain huddled underneath the outcropping of rock.

It's been about 3 weeks — maybe more.

I haven't so much as to cared how long we've been stuck in these plains.

When Egil recalled us back a few months ago,

We stayed behind.

A member of us had a broken receiver.

I had a broken orbital module. Even if we could return to the Bionis,

Motion was futile. We had missed the carriers when I tried to help a M32.

I didn't want to stay; I suppose the others could say that I got scared.

But I wasn't going anywhere blind.

That attack failed miserably.

There's only two of us M64 units left; a homs man dispatched many of them away,

Back during that attack.

We managed to get as far as Raguel Bridge — according to my internal maps —

Until the rain fell along with our spirits.

Some of the mechon were in a good enough shape to outlast the cold water,

But we damaged ones couldn't risk it. The storms come so often that I'm too afraid to try

Our trek again.

I know the way to the Mechonis. I just don't want to attempt it,

Especially after I heard a mechon unit be crushed by a heavy Bionis creature.

Call me a coward if you will — I'm too tired to protest any longer.

The others in our band look up to me as their leader, although I try to speak otherwise.

I'm no longer fit to serve,

It's only shaming to return to Egil a failed scrap of metal.

How depressing.

Though…

I suppose a part of me longs for the cold of Mechonis Field once again,

Or the hot conveyor tracks of Central Factory. To be repaired, cared, insnared

By an old fancy to finally say hello to that DOGMA unit who had that light in her eyes whenever she'd see me.

I wonder what she'd say now.

Maybe we could keep going, by chance that the group still has the gumption to try.

If we hurry, we could avoid the rain

Once it again falls like the Mechonis' tears.

Egil told us once about Lady Meyneth. How she was kind and respective. Respectable.

He could never surpass her when it came to destroying Zanza's Bionis.

I wish he'd figure that out.

Does he by chance remember us? Feel our presence abandoned on the thigh of the Bionis?

Being built, repaired, rebuilt — all that has to make a leader notice

What his troops go though for him. What amount of new bolts and polished waxes and stinging paint jobs

Does it take for a Machina to see me? See us?

I guess I never really thought about it until now.

How little he notes of anyone other than himself,

And his precious Face Mechon.

Maybe, if we had a Face Mechon who wasn't so crazy,

We could have done more than we did.

But it happened.

And I wish it happened differently.

With the constant whir of my comrades,

And the clickclickclack of my tiny friends,

We stand huddled under this rock.

Stand engulfed in sheets of rain and the tinny sound of our own thoughts.

One unit shrieks something out,

And all of the sudden there're more sounds—

The shouting of homs

The crunching of a mechon

The hissing of a hot blade under cold water.

It's a pity, really, though I can only smile.

I was quite hoping to see that DOGMA unit again.

But, then again,

Maybe I still can.