Hello! There's a bit to go over before I start this one, so please give this a read!
This work was, just like Stray Cat, written in response to a prompt. The original prompt, by TeamJNPR, is as follows:
"Luka, a space-faring scavenger, 'discovers' Earth. All the humans are gone but AI/androids remain, albeit out of power. But one named 'electric angel' still seems to be functioning..." If you're reading this, TeamJNPR, I hope you like this one!
This is my first foray into science-fiction, and I'll readily admit I'm not too versed in the literary history of the genre. So I ask any hardcore sci-fi fans out there to please be gentle. Like with all my works, I wrote to have fun! As always though, constructive criticism is super welcome.
That said, this work is a little more gritty than my other stuff, so please take the M rating seriously! If you are uncomfortable with drug use, torture, body horror, violence, strong language, minor character death, and/or mentions of prostitution and human trafficking, I'll request you don't delve into this one.
If you're still here, then I hope you enjoy! This work will be updated every two weeks.
Kokodoru is to thank for the tireless beta-reading.
What do you do with a wasted planet, so late in the space age?
Luka hummed the line to herself to the tune of an old sailor's shanty, an amused smile on her lips. She kicked the beat under the control panel, tapped extra percussion on the armrests of her chair, humming along as the time ticked on.
One more minute until she reached Earth.
What do you do with a wasted planet, so late in the space age?
Reduce the surface to mud and granite, she hummed on, doing her best to remember and improvise the rhyme as the song went on.
Reduce the surface to mud and granite, so late in the space age.
There was no reason to visit Earth. No reason left, anyway. After humans had managed to reach the planet's overshoot day by the end of the first month every year, crippled insect populations, laid waste to vast ecosystems, ruined oceans and skies alike, they had taken to space and left the old rock behind.
What do you do with a wasted planet, so late in the space age, she hummed on, eyes on the windshield of her ship.
Of course, there were always some precious resources behind. At the beginning of human's colonization of space, beyond their solar system, it was sometimes hard for them to get their hands on some metals, water, special bacteria in rare mud. It was a hassle to return to the dead rock and rummage through the mess left behind though, so humans did as they did and automated the process.
Leave it only for the lowly maggot, so late in the space age.
After enough generations, the bots, whatever they were, had found all that was worth finding. By then, nature would have started recovering a tiny bit, as nature inevitably would, but since the robots were equipped to defend themselves against intruders, pirates, scavengers of all stripes, they managed to make sure that nothing any larger than a pill bug would ever survive again. Plus, given how people needed all the phosphorus, helium, ammonia, and other minerals that they could get, they eventually stripped the earth of all potential for life, too.
What do you do with a wasted planet, so late in the space age?
When Earth was empty and no longer needed, the bots were left alone. They had been made of the most common and worthless materials, so nobody needed those. Worse yet, humanity had started to forget about its dear little home-world; it had nothing left to give, from the tiniest speck of oxygen to the thinnest flake of gold. It was all gone. The planet being home-world was all that was left of it worth visiting, just sentimental value and nothing else, but that was enough. People were getting hurt by the bots, who were still in self-defense mode. Only people with proper identification could get close, but those protocols had expired years prior.
Earth had become a tourist liability.
And what do you do with a liability if you don't care for it, and can exploit all the other resources space has to offer?
Turn it into an oversized magnet, so late in the space age.
After a thorough and complete nuking of the entire planet's surface, it was once again safe. Irradiated to high hell, but void of life, void of bots, and good for tourists to visit once again.
Whatever tourists there were, anyway. The previous fatalities hadn't looked good in the news, yet there wasn't nearly enough traction to install any kind of exhibit. Virtual reality did the task well enough, from the comfort of your own home to boot. Even then, there were far more interesting places to visit in space. Ice planets, moons made of gemstones, dunes made of glass, oceans that tasted like rum, clouds so thick you could chew them.
Space was vast and fascinating.
Earth was a rock.
What do you do with a wasted planet, so late in the space age?
Luka's ship touched down, and after zipping up her suit and donning her helmet, she entered the pressure chamber, waited an extra moment, and stepped on the dry, desolate surface of Earth.
She took a moment to note how special this moment was.
By then, after so long, nobody cared enough about Earth to remember where it was. Luka had needed to comb through piles of archives to even get a good idea of where their species had originated.
Turns out it was some tiny little solar system with a handful of planets. None of them were habitable.
Luka looked around: part of her had hoped that maybe there would be something left to scavenge. That was her trade after all, and even getting a single whole pebble from the surface of their home-world could be worth a lot to the right buyer. But the material under her feet was too loose to be dirt, too firm to be sand, too solid to be dust. She tried to pick up a handful and it tumbled between her fingers. It was probably made of some mixture of decaying material, decomposing matter, all of which had been churned and pelted and mixed by asteroids for millennia, cooked by the bare sun and frozen by the bitter night. Whatever she kept in her palm, she pressed in a fist as tightly as she could.
When her fist opened again, it simply fell away.
It was recycled, re-filtered, dead, and dangerous irradiated Earth Stuff. Worth literally nothing and probably fatal when touched with bare skin.
Luka sighed, the sound amplified by her helmet, and looked around.
The horizon was flat. The dark, star-dappled sky had no wind. The sun above was beating down harshly; her display said that it was five hundred degrees Kelvin.
There was absolutely nothing.
What do you do with a wasted planet...
After a moment, she decided to take a little walk.
Nobody else knew where Earth was. Rather, if anybody else knew, they didn't care enough to visit. The local sun was already busy dying so, within the next few thousand years, the globe would be swallowed whole in a huge ball of fire and death.
Chances were that she would be the very last person to set foot on good old planet Earth before it would be annihilated.
She figured she might as well take a good look at what it had become. Her latest target, some destroyed freighter, was floating around in the next sector over. Considering how far it was from any settled planets, it would probably take another rotation before its SOS message would reach the nearest settled planet, and she would have a whole cycle before a cleanup team would even arrive there. All the time in the universe to get there and pick up all the goodies she could fit in her ship.
Even after all their progress, space was so unforgivably huge. It took a while to get anywhere. Luka was lucky she had caught the SOS as it had flitted by, ejected into the big emptiness of space. It meant she had time to prepare and see what it was like on the home-world before going there and seeing what the pickings were.
Being on Earth did distract her from all that, though. The gravity was pleasant, yet she had no way of knowing if it was anything like it was back then, all those billions of years prior. Humans had changed a bit, since. The size and mass of the planet had, too. The size of the nearest star? Increasing exponentially. But she could walk without having to adjust too much. Maybe she jumped a little higher than she would in space cities, with their regulated gravity levels. But it wasn't difficult to get around. She did sink into the Earth Stuff a bit, not unlike snow.
What do you do with a wasted planet...
She continued humming to herself, stretching and looking around. There was nowhere to go to. She could walk anywhere and it would be more of the same. There was her ship, a little ways behind, and there was her, and that was it. She walked a little over here, a little over there, but the Earth Stuff remained the same, inflating after she passed like memory foam. There was no variation in density. Any structures? Gone. Any robots? Obliterated. Anything at all? Not there.
Still, she was the last creature of Earth to walk Earth, and she supposed that did mean something to someone. In a way, she was the only human, of all trillions of humans alive, that was home.
A strange thought. She wasn't sure she was feeling whatever she was supposed to.
Slowly, she returned to her ship. She kicked off the Earth Stuff from her boots, only to find it didn't stick to begin with. After a round of decontamination and pressurization, she removed her helmet and sat back in her chair.
All systems were good. She knew her tech was radiation-proofed, but who knew what else a wasted planet had in store.
She hummed again, checking her vitals, her supplies, and, by habit, flicked on the nearby radio scanner. It scanned all known wavelengths, from old-school, proto-radio lengths, to the new, space-compatible kinds that cut through the emptiness of the universe like a hot knife through butter, and the onboard AI would find anything that sounded coherent and play it to her. How else was she to intercept messages about crashes before anybody else?
She heard the SOS of the freighter again, the AI once again pointing her in the direction of origin, displaying the quickest path on the windshield. The coordinates hadn't changed much, but Luka frowned when she saw that it was drifting: this probably meant it had been impacted by something large and unexpected, a considerable danger. Still, who knew what it would contain. It could very much be worth the risk.
She hummed the tune once more, muttering the words under her breath as she buckled herself in, ready to lift-off and leave good old home-world behind.
A new beep of her AI startled her. The transmitted message even more so: it was two, maybe three words, before it came to a stop.
"What is this?" she asked the AI.
The voice that replied was monotonous, gender-neutral, and spoke with flawless enunciation. "A new communication. A proto-radio signal, neo-human language."
"Neo-human?" Luka muttered. Even if the use of proto-radio surprised her, nobody spoke any neo-human languages any longer. Everybody had been speaking Common for thousands of years, if not millions. "Translate."
After some thinking, probably dredging up old information on neo-human tongue from its databases, the AI analyzed the audio clip. As it did so, the three words were spoken again.
"Audio translated: I love to sing."
"Point of origin?"
To her surprise, planetary rather than interstellar coordinates popped up on her windshield. "Distance, two kilometers," the AI added.
Now that was wholly unexpected.
Heart thumping in her chest, Luka ordered that the ship start the smaller, planet-surface engines. "Take me to those coordinates and upload the language pack into my communications unit."
"Understood."
The ship lifted from the ground by only a meter or so before turning and going straight towards the source of the signal. Luka watched as the database uploaded, nervously awaiting her arrival. Anybody was allowed one, maybe two extra language packs, for communication with reclusive space-faring species. Since she traded with everybody and everything, she couldn't content herself with one or two language packs. Keeping most of them, not to mention all that she could, took considerable amounts of data, and having the space to store all that information was highly regulated. That space was more valuable when used to keep the intergalactic internet as uniform and updated as possible.
Truth be told, it was impossible to access all of the intergalactic internet from anywhere. Planets and space cities each had a local copy, and all ships traveling between them all would update each new destination on the latest uploaded data from their departure point. This made sure that everything remained relatively even and up-to-date. Isolated information relays and storage points not only accelerated communications, but served as backups, and it was very, very illegal to leach it off of them. Luka did that anyway, she was an expert at that in fact, but that was another matter.
The upload was fairly quick, all things considered. Perhaps the pack was incomplete, or the language was very basic. She had no way of knowing. All that mattered was that she could understand one of many neo-human languages, and that was exciting.
As they approached, the message repeated, the translation almost immediately coming in via the implant in her right ear. "I love to sing."
Luka frowned. Those who used proto-radio were either children playing with basic tech or pirates hoping to fly under the radar. Or police, hoping to find the pirates.
But a land-based signal of this kind? It was very, very strange. The contents of the message, even more so.
She entertained the idea of replying. It would be easy. Getting the jump on whoever was there would be a better idea, though; this was not a targeted message, so whoever was sending it likely had no idea anybody was out there to hear it to begin with.
Her ship landed in just another spot on the barren planet. Luka pushed a few buttons, getting a few scans of the Stuff beneath her. Radar, naturally, revealed nothing but loose Stuff, but when she used the ship's ground testers, it revealed more information. By design, the testers established whether some space-soaring piece of metal was stable enough to land her ship on or to see if the swamp or dirt of a planet was firm enough, but it also gave a good profile of the materials hidden underground.
And there was a construct there.
Luka's heart skipped a beat.
She commanded her AI to analyze the construct to the best of its ability while she walked over to her work station. There, she repaired and improved, sometimes even fabricated, scavenged goods. She did a little bit of counterfeiting on the side, along with some weapon-making. She had been fixing the handle of her gun when the SOS for the freighter came in, but it was still functional enough.
She checked the charges, turned it on, enabled the safety, zipped up her suit, put on her helmet, and stepped out once again.
"The construct is seven meters below the surface," her AI told her, the voice emerging from her implant.
She kicked at some of the Stuff. It flew away easily, but she wasn't about to kick her way seven meters down. After another command, her ship's excavator made good work of the bulk of it. It was a small thing, mostly used to clear the way in drifting wrecks, but the Stuff weighed almost nothing. With some extra kicking and pushing, she soon saw the sides of the construct.
They were smooth like polished stone. There were beaches on faraway planets where every little grain of sand was as smooth as glass, and this dome bore a striking resemblance if it weren't for the size. Pale in color, polished by the long-gone wind and elements, it was pocked with a few small holes. Either asteroid impacts, or faulty fabrication, she didn't know.
"An entrance is on the northern face of the construct."
Luka walked around a bit, the excavator helping her, keeping the way clear. Earth Stuff kept falling into the trench, but it drifted and floated slowly. She had some time. Even if her trench collapsed on top of her, she could probably swim out of it.
Probably.
There was a door there, though. It was armed with a padlock of all things. For a second, Luka deliberated picking it, keeping it to sell to a collector, but she remembered the freighter, filled to the brim with untold treasures. Jaw clenched, she blew the thing to smithereens with her gun.
Padlocks were so archaic. Whoever was here was no space pirate.
After putting the safety back on, she pushed open the door.
It gave way without any effort.
"Keep the way clear," she told her AI after making sure that her helmet wasn't allowing any sound out.
"Understood."
With that, she pushed inside the construct and closed the door behind her. It didn't even click as it slid shut.
There was no light inside. A small lamp in her helmet turned on with a small tap, showing bare stairs going down. After fifteen steps or so, it made a U-turn, before going down fifteen more steps. There was no railing to speak of. The steps were well-made, even, but of a rugged, rough material.
It didn't look new in any capacity, yet it was obvious that nobody had been there in quite some time.
After kicking her boots again, the scavenger carefully stepped down the stairs.
It went down two, three, four, then five flights. Her AI informed her that communications were still optimal: whatever the material was couldn't block their signals. She asked what it was.
"It is analogous to concrete," her AI replied. "It is in good condition, with little to no rusting. Its structural integrity is optimal."
"Any idea when this was made?"
"I have insufficient data."
It did look new, yet ancient. Untouched was probably a better word. It was built eons prior but nobody had been there since.
Luka went down a sixth flight, which looked to be the bottom. A hall stretched in front of her. The floor looked as rough as the walls and ceiling. No dust, no Stuff, not even a hint of wear and tear. The corners were perfect right angles.
This wasn't any kind of settlement she recognized.
"Did the message play again?"
"No."
She froze. Why would it stop? Were there eyes on her? She adjusted her grip on her gun.
"Do a complete scan of the area."
After a few heavy seconds, the AI replied, "Nothing found."
She bit her lip, armed her weapon, and stalked down the hall, ensuring that her footfalls made no sound. She had been in her fair share of scraps before. She could maim, kill if needed. But she didn't like dreaming about such conflicts for ages on end afterward. The stench of charred flesh was bad, death rattles were bad, the look in the eye of any living creature as life escaped them was worse.
She stayed away from fights if she could help it. If not, then at least she just liked knowing what she was up against. She only ever played if the odds were in her favor. So far, so good.
The door at the end of the hall was sturdy, made of a different metal than the front door. There was no padlock, but a very large lever, the kind found on bunkers.
She pulled it down, and again, it complied without any kind of resistance. The mechanism was straight out of the factory.
Once the door opened, her AI announced, "I am discovering a zone that is safe to life."
"What? Where?"
"The room in front of you can be sealed. I have identified canisters with oxygen. Should the room function, this environment could be made safe to live in for long term stays."
Luka nodded, shut the door behind her, pulling the lever back up until it clicked.
"Ok. Now what?"
"Please access the terminal by the door."
She complied, finding the strange text of the terminal near-instantaneously translated for her and projected on the visor of her helmet. The translation was a little clumsy, but she recognized attempts to say 'menu', 'settings', 'login', along with a few other basic prompts.
"I thought everything on this planet was bombed to total destruction," she muttered.
"No compatible ports found," her AI droned, uncaring of her muttering. "Manual interfacing necessary. I can try to walk you through the process of making this room safe for life."
Before fully turning her back on the space, Luka gave it a thorough once-over. It was small, barely larger than a single-person living unit on a space city, every surface some kind of old-style hybrid of plastic and metal, perfectly white and perfectly smooth. If anything, it was probably an even smaller space: Luka wasn't tall by any means, yet if this room was an indication, the people who made this space were even shorter. The ceiling was barely over two meters up, which made the scavenger feel more snug and comfortable than she did under the looming ceilings of space structures. A sleep pod of sorts, equally perfect for her in size, occupied the far corner, and if the cables running to and from it were any indication, there was even a power source hooked up to it. Perhaps it was heated.
She hummed, appreciating the thought of a good night's rest. Plus, it looked like she was alone. There was no identifying who made the room though; she had never seen such material before.
She turned her back to the room and navigated the terminal. The UI was strange and outdated but clear enough, and after a few minutes, the room hummed to life.
"One minute until the air is purified and oxygen levels are safe," her AI announced.
"Who made this?" Luka asked, her eyes glancing at the tiny vents that had opened up. Some seemed to be extracting the air, others seemed to be pumping new air in, and more vents had been hiding small lights. It all worked seamlessly, like new. Never used before.
"I have insufficient data."
After some time, a ding echoed through the room and the terminal lit up a bright green.
Luka removed her helmet after only a second of hesitation.
She inhaled deeply.
"Damn, this is almost fresh air," she said. "Is there water?"
After some time, the AI said, "Affirmative. Please access the terminal."
She typed for a little longer. Within moments, a sink slid out of a wall, as well as a shallow basin just deep enough to bathe in, both in the opposite corner from the sleep pod, which remained shut. It was all of that same plastic-metal hybrid material, perfectly white.
Luka chuckled, already unzipping her suit and pulling her arms out of the sleeves, her gun long forgotten next to the terminal. If this place had fresh air and clean water on demand, then she had just found herself a nice little bunker to hide away from the galaxy. She'd have to make sure there were reserves to last, but even if it was only for a day, she counted on spending that day sleeping well and taking her first real bath in months.
"Is it safe to drink?" she asked the AI, pointing her helmet at a stream of running water she summoned from the sink.
"Affirmative."
Luka didn't need to be asked twice. After tying the sleeves of her suit around her waist, she cupped the water and drank.
The water was cool, clear, and tasted faintly metallic.
It was fresh water, though. Far better than anything she had tasted in cycles. This place was far, far better than any cash-only, no-questions-asked motel she had found throughout her career.
"How much water and air is there?"
"I have insufficient data. There is much hidden below the surface, so it is difficult to analyze. Perhaps the terminal may provide further information."
"That can wait," she grumbled, washing her face.
The value of fresh water was so understated. She sighed, ready to strip down and take a bath. Ah, though she would have to go up to her ship and retrieve her soap if it was going to be worthwhile.
She cupped her hands and took another long drink to prepare for the trek upstairs, just to get a measly bar of soap. It would be worth it, though. So worth it. She had saved a bar of the nice lavender stuff, too, for just such a miraculous occasion.
What luck, that miserable old Earth still had so much to offer.
She hummed the tune to herself again, wiping the water from the corner of her mouth.
"What do you do with a wasted planet," she sang, untying the sleeves from her waist. "So late in the space age?"
The light in the room suddenly went from neutral cream to bright blue. Luka flinched, eyes wild.
"Hey, what's this about?"
"The radio message has repeated."
"What?"
The sleep pod hissed and the cover lifted, then pulled back.
Luka realized with a start that somebody was already inside it.
She leapt for the terminal, grabbed her gun in both hands, then rolled back towards the sink, taking as much cover as she could in the small room. Barrel pointed at the person in the bed, she waited with bated breath, her heart pounding in her chest.
Thankfully, there wasn't so much suspense created by thick fog or masses of cables in the way. Very soon, Luka saw that whoever was in the pod was either almost or fully nude. Also, immobile. Even when the cover of the pod came to rest high above the individual, pressed against the wall, they didn't move. The light remained blue though, so Luka waited.
"The terminal is displaying a message," her AI told her. Luka blessed that it was communicated to her via her implant, so the AI could talk to her without anybody hearing, but replying was another story; her microphone was nestled within her helmet, which was just outside of arm's reach. She set her jaw and kept her eyes trained on the person.
She didn't have to wait long; within seconds, they moved, sitting up from the bed without even a stretch or a yawn.
Luka lowered her weapon. There was a mass of cables, attached to their back. Their pale skin was lined with dark seams, a bright red '01' written on the left shoulder. Their eyes were shining.
This was a robot.
Once she remembered that all robots on the planet had been programmed to destroy intruders, she raised her gun again, removing the safety soundlessly. Meanwhile, the robot looked around.
Why did it look so human? Luka knew that the exact appearance of all technology left behind here was entirely forgotten, but what kind of reason existed to make them look so real? Her —for it looked like a woman— eyes were blue, bright with life, and she had actual lips and ears and a nose, and ten fingers and toes, each digit topped with a nail. Plus, she had a huge mass of teal hair that pooled in the pod.
What was the point in that?
The robot stood, looking lost, or disoriented. The cables detached from her back, falling limp in the pod, while her hair tumbled down, almost reaching the ground. After looking left, then right, taking in the bathroom necessities and the faint footprints in front of the door, her eyes landed on Luka.
She smiled.
"Hello."
Luka blinked: the translation fed to her via her implant had a tiny delay, barely masking out the sound of the strange language. It was a simple greeting, but without her helmet, she wouldn't be able to return it in a way it would comprehend.
She cleared her throat and stood on shaking legs.
Nonetheless, she tried, "Greetings."
The robot didn't seem to understand, cocking her head to the side.
Whoever made it didn't install Common.
"Your name?" Luka insisted.
"Namae?" the robot repeated, and through the implant, Luka understood, "Name?"
Ok, at least those words were close. She nodded, thanking the maker that the robot visibly understood body language and such.
"I am Electric Angel," the translator chewed out. Luka remembered how small the language pack had been and was afraid that it was starting to show. Electric Angel? Either it was poorly translated, or just a very strange name.
"Directive?" she asked the robot, who didn't understand. "Protocol? Orders?"
None of those words made any sense to it.
"You have returned," the robot said instead. "I have long awaited your return."
Luka frowned: the translator had used the very personal 'you', rather than the general form of 'you', but she was certain that it had mixed those two up. Why would she have been waiting for her, specifically?
Then again, why would she be waiting for anybody at all?
Either way, that language pack was pretty damn shitty. She could communicate with reclusive, half-dead space reptiles easier than with a piece of tech.
With a start, she remembered that her AI had told her about the terminal. She glanced at it, only seeing an alphabet she didn't recognize.
She made to grab her helmet, eager to get some answers, but the robot stepped closer. In such a small space, that single step was almost invasive.
"I see you have found the water and air we have prepared for you. You are safe here," she said. Luka nodded, trying to motion to her helmet, to communicate that she needed to put it on to reply, but the robot went on. "Have you traveled from very far?"
"Uhm, one minute," Luka muttered, before simply plopping the helmet on her head. She turned it on, enabled the outward audio and translation, then spoke again, "Do you understand me now?"
"Yes!" the robot exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "What a good day! You have come home!"
Luka cleared her throat. "Uhm, I... Who are you?"
"I am Electric Angel," the robot repeated. "The promise that humans will return."
"Promise?" Luka shook her head. "I found you by accident."
"By accident or not, you have returned! It has been so long. Everybody else will be so glad to hear this!"
"Everybody else?"
"Yes!"
Luka wanted to reply that they were all destroyed, but she was also the one who was convinced that there was nothing left of note on the whole planet.
"Can you contact them?" she asked, pretty sure she was about to make a huge mistake. If the army still existed, then it was certainly still programmed to kill.
Or not. The robot in front of her seemed harmless enough.
She wondered if she ought to enable the safety of her gun.
"Oh! They have been powering down often, waiting for new orders to come in, but I'm sure I can reach them, now!" she chirped, before going silent for a moment. "Ah. One second."
Luka waited, watching the robot try to reach out to her peers.
Robots weren't strange or rare, all things considered. AI, which were infinitely more complex, were already commonplace. The main issue with robots was that they were physical, and did physical things. They didn't need a brain, and depending on their task, didn't even need to move all that much. Luka had seen relatively complex machines build entire vehicles, and those also had arms and eyes and such. But none were ever made in the shape of a human. It was disconcerting, how much personality this robot had been given. She expressed in a very fluid, natural manner. If Luka hadn't seen the cables, and if the seams in her form and her doll-like anatomy had been hidden, she might have been fooled.
Such a small human, too. Luka thought she was short and used it to her advantage: her ship was smaller than standard, allowing her to escape tight situations. Others could barely drive her ship, too, which made it almost impossible to steal.
But this robot was positively diminutive for a human. Or at least, for a human of the space age. Maybe she was normal for a neo-human.
"They are not replying," the robot finally managed. "I cannot contact any of them."
Luka kept her finger on the trigger. "I'm pretty sure they're all destroyed."
"Destroyed?"
"A really long time ago, humans pelted the surface of the planet with bombs of all kinds," she explained.
"What? But..." She drifted off.
"What is your protocol?" Luka asked.
"I am to promise the return of the humans," the robot repeated. "So we may all welcome them home."
That made no sense. "Who made you?"
"We made me," she said. "Humans clearly had no need any longer for us. We had collected every mineral, every book, every hard drive, every animal hair. We needed to make a reason for the humans to return. So we made me."
Luka blinked. "By 'we', do you mean all of you collectively? You robots?"
"Yes. There was not much left to make me with, so we recycled. Some of us were broken and could not be salvaged. They live on in me, now."
She had never heard of non-sentient intelligences growing a will and motivation. Then again, the robots had been left alone for a frightful amount of time before they were nuked.
She cleared her throat. "How exactly were you the promise of humans' return? You just explained why we stopped bothering: there was nothing left here."
"Nothing material or useful in a pragmatic sense," the robot conceded. "But humans love art and song. It is an emotional and spiritual need. Hence my name, Electric Angel."
Luka thought about it for a second. "You're an artist?"
"Yes! I sing."
"And we would return, because..."
"Humans love art and music. Surely, you would find me someday, and then you would all come back home, for I can provide limitless music," she said enthusiastically. Then, her smile dropped. "This is home, is it not?"
"It was," Luka conceded. She shook her head; this was all too strange. "It used to be. But nobody even remembers Earth right now. Nobody has been here for centuries. And I'm pretty sure I might be among the last people to ever set foot here: the nearby sun is dying and growing fast. This planet won't exist for much longer."
The robot listened to her explanation with rapt attention.
"What is all this?" Luka asked. "This room?"
"We wanted to keep me safe, and when I would be found, for the environment to be safe for humans. We know what kind of air you need, and that you need water. We could not find food, sadly. Water was already so hard to collect. We needed to wait for asteroids to fall, collect the water droplets trapped within. It took a very long time."
"Wait, so, this entire room, this construct, it's all for a meeting like this?"
"Precisely! You would find safety and rest and I would explain that I am an artist and singer and you would be thrilled to learn that we still have so much to provide, and you would all come home." Her smile fell. "Except now I am all alone, and this planet is dying."
Luka sighed. "Yeah. I'm afraid that isn't going to be the plan anymore."
The robot looked so sincerely crestfallen, Luka wondered if she could cry. Of course not; this was only a robot.
"I suppose there is nothing I can do then, other than offer you my music," the robot said. "There are more of you?"
"More humans? Trillions," Luka said. "I'm sure some collector would like you. You'll probably find an audience eventually."
"I am immortal and can entertain until the end of time!"
"Right, that's great," Luka muttered. She could already think of a few good markets to visit. If her story could be trusted, her body was little more than old recycled tech. Some might be more interested in the AI within: if she were to tell them that it had created itself, essentially, then it would be an instant cash grab. "This room? You don't need it to survive?"
"No. I can withstand temperatures between zero and two thousand kelvin! I do not breathe or require nourishment."
"Your energy—"
"I rely mostly on solar energy!"
"Right. So, can I use this place?"
The robot beamed. "As you wish! This was made for you, after all. Please, if you can find a use for it before this planet is erased, we would be honored. The air is manufactured underground and the water is refreshed, though there is a very large reserve."
Luka nodded. "Awesome. I guess I can make this my little hiding spot, then."
The robot smiled. "I am glad we could do something of value, after all this time!"
"Yeah. Sure. You have nothing else to do?"
"No. I was waiting for you. And now you are here. My plan cannot continue. I must think of a new one." After a brief moment, she asked, "Perhaps you could suggest a plan?"
"Just come with me. I'll find a place for you."
"Excellent!"
Luka chuckled to herself. She had just found a jackpot: though the exact value remained to be seen, she didn't doubt that this Electric Angel could be sold for a nice price.
"Alright, come on. I've got a place to be, with little time to waste."
"Very well!"
Luka started zipping up her suit once again, making sure to attach her helmet properly to the neckline. When she went for the handle, the robot stopped her.
"Please wait. Let me make sure the oxygen is removed from the room. We cannot let it go to waste."
"Oh, sure."
Luka waited, watching the vents open once again, sucking the air out. The sink and basin also retreated. It only took a minute before the robot said, "It is ready, you may leave."
She opened the door and chuckled as the displayed temperature almost immediately went from a comfortable three hundred to five hundred degrees. The robot didn't seem to notice and merrily followed her up the stairs, through the doorway, up out of the trench, and into her ship without another question, her hair sometimes dragging on the ground behind her, kicking up some Stuff as she went.