Author's Note: Zenyatta has a bad day.
Basho's office was cold. It was freezing actually. The candle lights flickered. They sat opposite of each other on plush pillows with golden tassels.
"You wished to speak to me?" Zenyatta asked as Basho poured tea.
"Yes."
"I have prepared a few notes from my meditation for our master's service."
"That will not be necessary." Basho took one long sip from his cup. "The memorial speech is already written."
"Ah, I see, then why-"
"Eila has gone through Master Mondatta's notes and has composed what should be her magnum opus. You will read her speech."
"Then I am simply to show up?"
"Yes and no. While you will present the speech, we need to clean you up."
"I'm sorry. I don't understand."
"You look homeless." Basho stated bluntly.
"I was a nomad for some years."
"Even so, you cannot present yourself as you are for Master Mondatta's service. You will need to be fixed."
"I do not see that as necessary."
"You cannot walk, Zenyatta."
"Thank you for informing me of this. I was unaware that I could not walk."
"I see that unlike your leg systems, your sense of humor is still intact."
"Master Basho, though I am touched by your concern for my well-being, I-"
"My concern isn't for you, is for Master Mondatta. The service must reflect the omnic that he was, not the haggard beggar that you have become. I have called in the finest healers to fix you."
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"I do not need to be fixed. I am happy with who I am and what my body looks like."
"I do not believe you. I do not believe how anyone could be happy if they had your appearance. How can you look at yourself?"
"It is my appearance. It is me. It is my job alone, not anyone else's, to love myself and I do."
"How did it happen?" Basho asked with mild interest.
"I met a man on my travels. He was friendly and kind. He was interested in me. I was scared after my banishment. The world seemed cold and scary…I-I didn't want to be alone. I welcomed his companionship with open arms." Looking back, it had been foolish to be so easily swayed by the stranger's sweet words. But the banishment had taken it's toll on him. "We were together for a while. I was unfamiliar with the terrain so he lead and I followed. We had just crossed the border into Tibet. I…I was excited. I was starting to get my confidence back when um…"
"Yes?"
"I returned with firewood for the camp that night when he attacked me. I never saw it coming. He, uh, hit me from behind. He struck my head with something hard. I don't remember what but he was on top of me and he tore off my plating. He struck me a few more times. I was disoriented, he hit me hard." There were gaps between his memories. He could see the fists flying at his face and everything exploding in pain. "I shut off my sensors. I just wanted it to be over…I blacked out. When I woke up, the supports for my legs were gone, my plating was gone, and my clothes were gone." His memories were fragmented. What little memories he did recall, came back with the force of a bullet train. He remembered the smell of ash from the dying fireplace and the feel of the man's rough and calloused hands on him. He recalled little flashes of that night. If he sat still long enough, he could remember the man's scent. He smelled like fresh cut grass and dirt right after it rained.
"Why didn't you fight back? I've seen you fight before. You've had no problems killing others when they pose a threat."
"I was scared. The man kept saying that he would kill me and I believed him."
"Pathetic. I would have thought that you of all people would have sought violence as a means to an end."
"I could have killed him. I thought about it. I saw him again in a marketplace. He didn't recognize me but I remembered him."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I forgave him."
"Oh please!"
"After my attack, I could not function. I was scared of everything. I no longer saw the beauty of the world and I hated that. I was so full of hate and anger, I didn't want what he did to me to define me."
"You were a victim."
"No, I am a survivor. My legs are a reminder that the world is cruel. I will forgive but I will not forget."
"So you would willfully present yourself as this…mess? In front of everyone? You are rusted out, Zenyatta. You have dents, your-your parts-" Basho shuddered in disgust, "How could you ever present yourself as a disciple of Master Mondatta when you look as you do? You need to be refined. You must have Master Mondatta's elegance and eloquence."
"I am not Master Mondatta."
"I know."
Basho's words cut through Zenyatta like a knife. Zenyatta knew that it was true, he would never be like Master Mondatta but to hear it so cruelly…Basho had meant for it to hurt and it did. Zenyatta thought carefully as a heavy silence hung in the air. He would do anything to make his master proud.
"The healers will be here a few minutes. I suggest that you prepare yourself."
"Do I have a choice?"
"No."
The medical room was nothing that Zenyatta remembered it. He remembered fat candles burning brightly and the windows letting in warm summer breezes. When he was younger, the monastery had it's own monks versed in omnic health but now they had outsourced it. It was cold and sterile.
He never saw the healer's faces. They wore masks and the heavy suits. Zenyatta couldn't help but be on edge when he saw them. They filed into the room and said without introduction,
"When was the last time you had an update?"
"Dr. Zeigler found that I was in perfect health."
"Does Dr. Zeigler specialize in omnic health?"
"She specializes in health."
"Please remove your clothes." They commanded in perfect unison.
"Must I?"
"Do it."
Zenyatta disrobed and sat on the cold metal table in the medical room. Fear crept onto him.
With shaky breath, Zenyatta asked, "Will this hurt?"
"No."
The healers lied. It hurt like hell. They tore him open, exposing his very being. Their hands dove into his chest cavity. Zenyatta watched fearfully as his core was removed. Everything that made him him was in a single palm sized core.
"Please be careful."
The healers went on with their work. They ignored Zenyatta's whines and pleas to be gentle. It was like Zenyatta wasn't a person. He was a machine that was broken and needed to be fixed. Scratched up faceplate? Get a new one. Old part? Get a new one. Everything can be replaced.
They worked at a frightening pace and ripped his old body frame away until Zenyatta was little more than a basic skeletal for an omnic body. He never felt so vulnerable in his life. He wished Genji was here. Even if he couldn't speak in his current condition having Genji by him would be a tremendous relief.
"We're done. Your upgrade is complete."
They left him in the medical room unable to walk or talk. He was left gasping for air. Everything felt raw. His new body felt strange and much heavier than his old body, Zenyatta struggled to get up. His legs went over the table. Zenyatta hadn't expected it and went face first to the floor. His body made an ungodly sound. Zenyatta whined as he flipped onto his back. He couldn't move. His legs twitched. They wanted to move but Zenyatta didn't know how to make them move. He missed floating. Zenyatta pushed himself on his fours. He reached behind him and grabbed onto the table. He waited until his grip was strong enough before he could pull himself up.
His knees knocked against each other. When he was upright, his legs locked into place. Zenyatta felt himself falling again but backwards. He grabbed onto the table, saving himself. He breathed and tried to find his balance but all he found was wishing that Genji was with him.
Zenyatta turned himself over. He saw a mirror on the opposite end of the room but it wasn't him looking back in the mirror. Zenyatta had a shorter, squarer chin that was now golden into the classic yellow gold look that he had. His silver faceplate was gone. It had been replaced with a more defined ivory face plate that gave him the illusion of having cheekbones. He still had the same number of lights on his forehead but they didn't glow as brightly as they once did. It was a softer glow.
He was a shadow of the omnic that was Tekhartha Mondatta.
Zenyatta couldn't look at himself anymore. He put on the clothes provided for him. Where were his pants? He couldn't find his pants. All there were robes, the kind that Master Mondatta wore. Beggars couldn't be choosers. He ran as fast as he could, as best as he could outside. His legs were new and unsteady. He ran outside the temple door. Tracer was in the yard.
"Tracer!"
She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him. Zenyatta tripped going down the stairs but she was there to catch him.
"Don't worry, Mondatta sir, I've got you." The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could catch herself. "Zenyatta, I…I didn't mean."
"I had the same thought."