Birdie! It's good to see you back too! =D Link in general is usually a considerate sort and this incarnation seems like no exception; I can't imagine he wouldn't think about it. Very glad the research was appreciated, Mimi! I rather enjoy figuring out how game things should work, if they can work at all. ;-)

Chapter 48: Ghost of the Machine

Link knelt in the shadow of the wall, carefully setting the power core down. The second building he'd ventured into had had a small number of them, neatly racked on shelves, in one of its more intact rooms – although he'd beaten a hasty retreat when some sort of gigantic crawling thing with a huge shell had started lumbering towards him. Fi had emotionlessly informed him that it was an ampilus, and that its main means of defending itself was to discharge electricity through its shell. While she'd advised Link on methods of rapidly defeating one if he needed to, there hadn't been any reason to fight the creature, not with the power core he'd come for already safely tucked under his shield arm. Though it was much smaller than the ones he'd taken on the levitrain, Fi had said it would still be sufficient, and that was good enough.

The remains of a robot had been harder to find, but they had eventually discovered one in a hollow where the prevailing winds had scoured the sand away from the base of a wall. Eroded and weathered, the asymmetrical features of its head were still more or less recognisable, the larger of the mismatched eyes broken and spilling sand as Link attempted to excavate and move the pieces into something at least resembling the right order. Now, having retrieved the power core from the sheltered spot he'd left it in while digging, Link gazed at the battered remains and hesitated.

"Are you sure this is going to be okay, Fi?"

With a muted chime, Fi vaulted from the sword to 'land' beside him, lightly poised and perfect.

"My analyses have not been able to provide any alternate recommendations that will not require you to spend multiple days searching this region, Master Link."

Link took a deep breath of the desert's hot, dry air, holding it for a moment before exhaling. "All right. Here goes…"

Drawing the Goddess Sword smoothly, he held it above the core for a moment, then brought the pommel sharply down. Light shone from it, and just as before, a strange and instant wave of something not quite dizziness washed over him, as if for a split second even his own thoughts had started to run backwards – and then it was over. Instead of the thin layer of sand over rock, Link was suddenly kneeling on thin, moist soil, short grass rich with delicate flowers, the wall next to him vibrantly painted in geometric patterns, and the robot before him jolted into life, dismembered parts reconnecting to one another with bands of shimmering light, the broken lens of its larger eye intact and glossy as a beetle's wingcases. It seemed to stare at Link even as he stared back, emitting a brief, warbling whistle.

"Vwoo-eeit?"

Another sound followed an instant later, this one from off to Link's left: a snorting snuffle that sounded all too familiar. Link's head snapped around and he shot to his feet in the same motion, snatching the shield from his back as his eyes confirmed what he had heard. Somehow, a lone bokoblin had got so close as to be actually inside the time bubble with him, one wearing a 'helmet' that appeared to be an upturned metal bowl tied on crudely with bright wire, holding a kind of club in its hand that crackled with electricity! Acting on instinct, Link put himself between the bokoblin and the robot, which emitted a piercingly loud series of beeps as it cowered away towards the wall. Squealing in a frenzied manner that could have been hatred or hunger or even vicious joy, the bokoblin lunged at him, swinging its sparking weapon wildly. Link jerked back as it neared him, trying to keep it from so much as touching his metal-plated shield. Though its blow had missed, the creature screeched triumphantly and swung again, pushing Link back another pace – but this time, as the weapon passed him, he sprang forwards again off his back foot, the tip of his shining blade sinking deep into rubbery flesh. The bokoblin shrieked, staggering back, dropping its weapon as it clutched its stubby hands to the wound… and, tripping over the mound of sand at the edge of the time bubble, fell into the desert and seemed to age centuries in an instant, abruptly no more than a scatter of dry bones on sand. Link stared in shock, the point of the Goddess Sword sinking towards the grass.

The brief battle over almost as soon as it had begun, Fi reappeared beside him, facing the tumbled bones.

"How…?" Link managed.

"The bokoblin which you have just slain was restored to life by the temporal distortion field, Master Link. My analysis indicates that its bones were buried in the sand here for multiple centuries. There is an 80% probability that it died in this location prior to the region's transformation into a desert. In order to have been restored by the temporal distortion, the bokoblin must have previously existed in the corresponding era." Fi paused for an instant, and once again Link felt the faint sense that she was rapidly sifting through her knowledge. "My database confirms that bokoblins were known to have infiltrated the temporal cycle that formerly governed this region shortly prior to its ending, at the beginning of the final iteration of the cycle. No conclusion had been reached about the means by which they did so before the raising of the islands. I will inform you if I become aware of any further information."

Link nodded, slowly. It made sense, at least. "Okay…" I guess I'll have to be careful every time I do this. The bones must have been buried in the sand… I didn't even see them.

"Fweet?" The whistle-chirp from behind startled him enough to spin around, finding himself looking at the robot only a pace away, its back still almost against the wall. It looked back at him, mismatched eyes in a stylised face somehow still less inscrutable than Fi almost always seemed.

"I am transmitting my linguistic database now," Fi informed him. Just as before, nothing seemed to happen, and yet the robot spoke moments later with Link's own Knight Academy accent.

"What has happened here, -zwit-? Thank you for saving me from the bokoblin, but what has happened? You are a human, are you not? And you are a significantly more advanced model? Logic dictates this is the inside of a temporal distortion field? I do not remember a shutdown event! What is the cause of this damage? Was there some form of detonation?"

"Uh…" Link glanced to Fi, who remained unhelpfully silent. "I don't really know what happened. Fi doesn't, so I don't think anyone does. I'm really sorry." It felt horribly inadequate, but what else could he say?

The robot stared at him for several silent moments, then beeped. "How far does the damage extend? I do not detect even long-range transmissions."

"Uh… You might want to sit down." Link looked at the hovering robot. "Do you sit down?"

"I could disable my levitation unit. Why are you changing the subject, human? -vweet- It's bad news, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he admitted, slinging his shield back onto his back. "It is. ...Fi told me a lot of robots got out of this area. Some of them went to Skyloft, where I'm from. And some of them went somewhere else on the surface – we don't know where. But this desert… there's nobody living here any more. At least not that we've seen."

The robot emitted a long, melancholy warble, turning slowly in its hover to view the surroundings. Link looked with it, trying to picture the landscape as it must once have been, before the desert had taken hold and over a millennium of decay had sunk its gentle fangs into the ancient buildings. Had all the walls been so brightly and cheerfully painted as the one he stood beside? The ground level and soft, not hidden by the sand dunes? Had other robots like this one thronged whatever streets there had been?

"Then are you here to find out what happened?"

"Not really," Link said, almost reluctantly. "At least, that's not why I came here. I'm… following a friend. I'm supposed to go here, to the Gate of Time. If I don't, something really bad is going to happen – something even worse than this." He glanced to Fi, whose blank eyes seemed to be observing them both, and she nodded once, gracefully, corroborating his words. "If I find out what happened, if I can, I can come back here…"

Everything about the robot's posture looked mournful as it replied. "You are kind, human, but I will have been deactivated long before you are able to return when the temporal distortion ends. Unless my chassis was not significantly damaged… but I expect the probability of that to be zero."

"You are correct," Fi stated calmly. "My assessments indicate that the cumulative environmental damage reached critical levels following less than a century of exposure."

Canting forwards, the robot seemed to be staring at the short grass.

"I apologise for having imparted unwelcome information. It was, however, necessary."

"Is there anything we can do…?" Link asked gently.

The robot spread broad hands in a gesture reminiscent of a shrug. "What could you do? Even you" and it turned slightly to look at Fi "clearly do not have the capacity to restore… this." Falling silent again for several long moments, the robot abruptly turned back to Link, the motion seeming more purposeful. "But I do not want my final experiences to be without hope or purpose. The power core there will likely sustain my existence for a short while longer. Therefore, can I be of assistance to you, strangers?"

Link's voice caught in his throat as sympathy and gratitude stabbed through him. "We- we'd be very grateful for your help." He swallowed. "We need to get to the Gate of Time, but the ground is too dangerous. Fi says there's some sort of underground building down there, and there might be a passage through it. Do you know if there is? And how we could get into it?"

"Where is this dangerous terrain, -bzzt-?"

"That way." Link pointed through the wall, in the direction of the huge expanse, and somewhere beyond it the giant symbol of the goddess and the Triforce, though he was too close to the wall to see it. "There's this huge open circle full of sinksand. I've been trying to find my way around it, but…"

The robot made a kind of brief whistle. "Correspondence determined. The open area you speak of is above the primary entrance to the Lanayru Mining Facility. The initial workings start as an open-cast mine… well, perhaps the details are not relevant to you. In any case, the depression is known to inevitably fill with fine, aerated sand, and the most efficient method of dealing with that problem has always been to design around it rather than prevent it. The building should rise automatically as the sand fills the basin, but it won't happen unless it's fully powered." Once again, it paused to scan the dry desert horizon, cut off by walls, buildings, and the bluff. "Most power conduits are built underground and with sturdy cladding. If you can get a power node running within a distortion field, I expect the cables will still carry power, -fweep-. If the entrance to the facility is still underground, it will probably have been much better protected, so just powering it might be enough to bring it to the surface. The lifting mechanism is rated to work with a full weight of sand atop it, too, although that's never been tested. It's a combination mine and ore processing facility, though, so it extends a long way beneath the surface in all directions, and once you're in you can go almost anywhere. I usually work in… used to work in… Processing. One of the other exits from Processing comes up near the Temple of Time, where the sacred Gate built in honour of the Goddess of Time stands. That should take you past the dangerous terrain."

Find a power node, whatever that is – Fi will know – and use a Timeshift Stone, just like here and on the levitrain. Then get into the building that comes out of the sand and go through 'Processing'. Got it. "Thanks," Link said aloud, heartfelt. "That really helps us a lot."

"I'm glad to be able to help somebody," the robot said, a little mournfully. "I thought I would still have half a century to work on the gardens. They would have been a work of art… -szwit- But, now I have helped you. When you leave here and return to your Skyloft, will you share my identification and tell them I was of assistance? My designation is 56BEAD-798385-DE45FE-2E44F1."

Link couldn't refuse such a simple, poignant last request, but he doubted he could commit that strange string of numbers and letters to memory. He reached for his battered notebook, flipping to the first page he hadn't already written on; shook his pen quickly before twisting the cap off and the ink reservoir open.

"Could you repeat that? I'll write it down so I don't get it wrong."

The robot obliged, slowly, its posture canted slightly to one side as it watched him write.

"Do you not possess the capacity to store personal identifiers?"

If Link hadn't spent the last week around Fi, he might not even have understood the question. Instead, he found himself smiling, if only briefly. "Not ones as long as that. Mine's just Link, and my friend's is Fi."

"Link and Fi? The probability of identifier collision must be high."

"What, having the same name as someone else? I guess so, but it isn't really a problem. Anyway… thanks. Thanks for your help, and – I promise I'll tell everyone about you. And if I find out what happened here, I'll tell people that, too."

"Thank you, Link." The robot was silent for a few moments, and something in its – his? her? – posture made Link think of a sigh. "I would like to tell you something more. Once, all of this facility looked like the bubble you see here. I used to assist in the maintenance of these gardens when my ore processing duties were over. I find there is nothing so rewarding as working with plants – nor yet so forgiving. Even though this region will turn to de-"

The bubble of altered time around them abruptly and soundlessly collapsed back onto the small power core with a feeling unpleasantly like a mental hiccup, as if Link's very thoughts had stuttered past themselves in some inexplicable way. Once more, the remains of the robot – Bead, the gardener – lay broken and dead on the sand, a few grains spilling from the shattered larger eye. Link stared, almost numbly.

"Fi…"

"Master Link."

It was not unexpected that the abrupt cessation of functionality of the robot 56BEAD-798385-DE45FE-2E44F1 would affect her master. His concern for other beings was not predicated on the nature of their construction, but rather, Fi had previously extrapolated, on the nature of what he perceived of their self. His interactions with her had followed a similar pattern, both in this era and in the past.

Fi chose to cease analysis of the distant past, focusing her attention fully on her master as he was in the present. The danger of encountering a processing error, while not directly calculable, was estimated as high if she continued to assess the matter under the current circumstances. That that estimation was itself a flawed product was highly undesirable, but as of yet Fi had not managed to determine a reliable method of routing around the errors analytically that did not itself risk producing an error, and it would serve no purpose to expose herself to further risk when it was apparent that her master's emotional state was currently negative. Considering her database of human customs, supplemented by her occasional partial observations of Skyloft, she selected words that could be expected to assist him.

"Although it is regrettable that the individual designated 56BEAD-798385-DE45FE-2E44F1 cannot be permanently restored, Master, consider that you have now gained information enabling this individual to be memorialised according to your custom, in addition to the information required to reach the Gate of Time. The probability that you could have obtained this personal information by another means is below 1%."

Link scrubbed tears from his eyes with his off hand, still holding the Goddess Sword in his left and showing no inclination to release it. "I… I guess you're right. At least… we can remember."

Fi inclined her head gravely.

"I wish I could… wait!" Link looked at the sword in his hand for a long moment before sheathing it almost reluctantly. He'd wished he had a hammer and chisel to etch the robot's name into the wall, even if it wasn't possible to dig a grave, and realised belatedly that, after a fashion, he did. Drawing the digging claws that Nackle the mogma had given him from his pouch, he buckled one onto his left hand and activated its magic, notepad still open in his right hand with the long, strange name written clearly on it. Careful to use only one claw, as delicately as he could, Link carved a message into the wall above where the body lay.

56BEAD-798385-DE45FE-2E44F1
WHO LOVED TO GARDEN
AND HELPED A STRANGER

"It's not enough," he murmured, stepping back and looking at his handiwork, "but it's the best I can do."

Fi continued to watch him, her silent presence a comfort, and the inert remains of the robot he couldn't help but think of as Bead the Gardener made no reply.

Sorry for the delay! The length of this chapter sneaked up behind me and took me completely by surprise, so I overran my own predictions rather. Poor little Bead.

I've said it before, but I'll still say it again: the desert hits me like a punch whenever I go there. Look at it. A whole civilisation was wandering around, going about their daily lives with minimal concerns (other than the odd bokoblin), and then suddenly, bam! The freaking apocalypse falls on them without warning or explanation in a moment, in a heartbeat, and we never find out how or why or even what happened, but they're all still there, wherever they fell, doing whatever they were doing. It's like I imagine walking through excavated Pompeii would be only even worse, even bigger and with even less warning: at least in Pompeii they saw or heard the volcano erupt, started to run, shelter, flee – here it doesn't seem there was even that. Just all at once, bam. No more people, no more anything. Nobody even left long enough after to bury (/dismantle/recycle/anything) the bodies or leave a plaintive message scrawled somewhere. Just instant, total, utter death.

And the game never once even notices. It vaguely notices that it's kind of sad the captain robot is dead, but it notices in the kind of way you might think that if you were in a graveyard looking at his gravestone, not that he just dropped dead in the middle of the street one day along with everybody else in his entire civilisation. It doesn't notice; it doesn't care; it's that kind of lazy consequences-aren't-real lack of care that makes so much of this poor game slightly insipid when it could be making you mourn, making you rejoice, making you care. It never managed to make me care. I nearly quit altogether when Impa decided to be a shit for no reason. I didn't cry when we said goodbye to Fi, and I'm a soft-hearted sucker. If the Floor Owl hadn't cried at her goodbye, if someone hadn't cared in front of me even though we were given so little reason to, I would never have had the impetus to embark on this project at all. And looking at all I've done, all that could have been, that's really sad!

Patch Notes
- Self-aware robots now also aware of their surroundings.
- Characters remain aware of obvious past apocalyptic cataclysm.
- Death actually tragic.