Demonsion: Psst. I know it's been a year already. Miss me? I'm up this late because I just watched Wall-E again and I still think it rocks! Here's the latest chapter: I promise the next one is soon. Hopefully. Geez now what's that?
Angel: You're back.
Demonsion: Oh... dang...
Angel: PA! MA! AUTO!
Demonsion: Dang! Gotta be going! As usual, all by Pixar excep- ANGEL! STOP THAT, OUCH!
Angel: Chapter 9
Wait
It has already been week. One long week, seven long days, one hundred and sixty-eight long hours, ten thousand and eighty long minutes, six hundred and four thousand and eighty hundred long seconds. Auto has been counting. Eight sandstorms, dreaded sandstorms, hated sandstorms Auto saw. His jerks grew longer and more intense each time it happened. He did not like it. He was in lonely hell.
And it was one more second to that.
Angel had more work to do nowadays. She became the new phenomenon in Colony Hope (A name that Captain McCrea created for the new colony) due to her outstanding feature of translating between Axiom and English, as well as recording music with playback. Every hour of the day she would be working as a translator for anything, from construction work communication to coffee chat sessions between the robots and humans. Her collection of songs and speeches grew, through rummaging the garbage like how her father did and discovering music players that were centuries old. However, her favorite song was still Angel.
"A-N-G-E-L…"
But there was never a song about Auto. Auto appeared only as a colloquial term for "automatic". It appeared on manuals on all robots, from TYP-E to WALL-E to M-O. It was a name for a function. And that was it.
A function.
Angel glanced at the Axiom. She had a document to finish translating before sun down, and the sunlight was already weakening.
"Tonight" Angel said.
But there were many nights. With each passing night, it was one trip to the Axiom. Every night she went to the Axiom. But she never went to the deck. Auto might have seen her, Auto might have not. In any way, Angel had a directive. And there was no second Angel.
"Tonight" Auto said.
And there were many nights. Auto had given up hope on controlling his jerks, which came far less recently. Auto had started off with a new sense, a new feeling. The sense of emptiness.
Auto started off. It was a race to beat his self. He spun around the grooves on the deck, timing each lap in nanoseconds. He tried to break his record countless times.
Zoom!
And Auto clocked a new record!
Auto jabbed on the controls. Auto spun his 6 spokes around until his vision became blurred. Auto played the videos of the directives given from the President over, editing the directives to make a comedy. Auto would act out a day of work in the Axiom, giving orders to robots that were not there and snapping at an imaginary captain named Angel.
Auto jerked.
Auto stopped to look at the setting sun. It had only been 20 days since re-activation. 15 years and 20 days since the landing of Axiom, and his de-activation. And now, Auto had no directives, but a sense of longing.
"Tonight, tonight Angel will arrive."