The Forbidden West

Their time in Meridian ends with a resupply trip.

The first order of business is acquiring new clothes under the guise of "unknown temperature and weather conditions in the Forbidden West". Unfortunately Connor's database regarding modern fashion is now possibly centuries out of date and so he must rely on his two human companions to choose what they believe is appropriate clothing. What they come away with is layers and layers, not necessarily in complementary colors, but with a compromise between sturdiness of material and shard cost, and of course there are pieces of machine chassis plating to be (ideally) used interchangeably as weather or combat scenarios permit.

Whenever they haggle over machine parts, Connor catches Gildun inevitably sneaking glances his way.

Given that the human isn't wearing any AR devices such as a Faro Focus, or even carrying a basic device as a cellphone, Connor finds that he can't immediately reassure his human through the usual channels of private texting.

Inefficient.

Even a Faro Focus would be…temporarily suitable, even if that specific device was from a rival robotics manufacturer.

But Gildun doesn't even have a Focus, common as the common cold in Connor's day, and so he can't simply DM him when the human furtively glances his way as if worried the act of trading the "bones and skin" of another machine might somehow be offensive or upsetting. The most Connor can do is gaze back serenely in a way meant to be CASUAL, REASSURING, and ENCOURAGING and hope (not that a machine can feel genuine "hope") Gildun understands the general intent behind his glances and general simulated facial expressions. The truth is machines are machines. These new models are an amalgam of somewhat-similar parts, their novel engineering interesting but clearly focused on a different objective than an android's, with obviously none of the programmed respect for general human life that they should have.

So no, Connor doesn't find anything particularly "distressing" looking at these dismantled machines.

Now dressed in his new clothes dyed in Oseram oranges and tans and browns, a hood of beaded Carja burgundy drawn up to protect against the coming heat, all with significantly less layers than the Banuk one provided by Enjuk, Connor gazes up at Meridian sitting high upon its mesa. Dawn's sun sparkles rose and silver against where there's mica embedded in the granite here and there. Colorful banners snap in the morning wind, reduced to dancing rainbow strips from afar.

Dropping his gaze, Connor updates his visual feed regarding the two humans. Gildun already looks west and bounces unconsciously on the balls of his feet; Enjuk, however, is once again preoccupied with the crumbling "air painter", the young man's head tilted as he listens to Old Macdonald Had a Farm with the same intensity of a student working on their graduating thesis, holding the children's tablet gingerly in both hands with the extreme care of an archaeologist handling a rare, priceless artifact.

"Just imagine seeing a cow outside of an air painting!" Enjuk sighs. "Look at the horns; not like a Charger's curvature, but perhaps they were in self-defense. I wonder what purpose this serves."

He points at the cartoonish pink udder.

Connor's head cocks.

"Surely you have a guess as to its function?" the RK800 asks. Enjuk hasn't asked him directly for clarification and Connor has begun to realize that he should exercise caution about helpfully volunteering every bit of harmless data like a walking Wikipedia. It's an adjustment, willfully suppressing the base function of any CyberLife android to help a nearby human with such an easy, safe task.

Enjuk watches as the cow bounces along with the tinny music, dancing from hoof to hoof. The pink udder even bobbles along.

"Well, it's an animal, not a machine, so I don't think it's capable of long-range weaponry," says Enjuk. "A strange position if it somehow was, being slung under the body like that with legs in the way. Inefficient."

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"Maybe it's a way of storing food or water?" Enjuk points at the cow's spotted holo shimmering in the air before him. "It jiggles like a canteen, so probably water."

A machine can't feel the primarily human kneejerk reaction to bite its synthetic tongue. It can, however, entertain the idea.

"...it does, now that I look at it," Connor says and adds, "We can verify if we find a cow."

"Oh, I hope so!"

Enjuk smiles with a flash of white teeth underneath his Banuk headdress and blue-yellow face paint, and he practically cradles the rotting tablet to himself as he powers it off and stows it in his leather satchel. Gildun wheels toward them, holds out a gloved hand in a vague westernly direction, blithely unaware that he'll be doing what few humans have done in Connor's time: walk across several state lines purely on foot, with no AR devices, no cell phone, no access to emergency services or search-and-rescue, and passing unknown, possibly (likely?) hostile human settlements.

And then there were, of course, the machines.

"Well, gentlemen," Gildun grins. "Shall we?"

The journey to the Forbidden West's border is long and mainly uneventful: a good thing, as Connor would prefer that his Primary and Secondary humans are able to travel in optimal conditions in terms of physical and mental health.

Gildun turns out to be surprisingly adept at navigating around hostile machines, skirting both herds and the individual larger units such as a "Thunderjaw". Whatever a Thunderjaw actually does, Connor doesn't get a chance to log its combat capabilities in action because Gildun wisely wishes to route around it and Enjuk nods, gripping his spear. Instead they wind their way through the desert, through canyons and stretches of sand and scrub and chaparral until weeks later they come to what Gildun says is "the Daunt".

In reality it's Zion National Park.

Given Gildun's curiosity about Yellowstone, he may be interested to know about this National Park as well…but Enjuk's presence complicates things and so the android's forced to add it to his unofficial To Do List, for when they're clearly out of earshot and he has the time and safe location to give Gildun a sort of virtual, verbal tour. Doing so would both strengthen his social relationship with Gildun and also educate the human on "historical" matters.

Like Yellowstone, Connor can't recall ever being in Zion himself. All he knows is whatever his corrupted cache data has and going off that, he's reasonably sure that there was no rustic-design cable car descending down to the canyon there is now and even an android, top of the line in his time, can only stop and stare with one eyebrow faintly arched at the unexpected sight, as his gaze follows the length of thick chain down and down and down and he has to wonder how long it took to build. The manpower and lives involved. Certainly it hasn't been reviewed by the proper safety committees and liability boards.

And yet the Oseram cable car holds, creaking and clanking along from what was once known as Angel's Landing and giving a long, indulgent view of the canyon below that tourists in Connor's day would've paid exorbitant fees for.

The android dutifully logs everything:

002.30 Days Ago: ENJUK notes a new species of lizard, broad and spiked. Recorded dialogue from GILDUN indicates that he hasn't seen it before either. A promising sign according to ENJUK.

001.01 Day Ago: GILDUN roasts the last of the boar and does so with "remarkable success - look, it isn't even pink inside!". ENJUK issues multiple compliments regarding GILDUN's cooking prowess. CONNOR inserts a bite of meat into his mouth, careful not to swallow, and echoes ENJUK's compliments. GILDUN's Pleasure rating rises.

000.52 Days Ago: At the border town called BARREN LIGHT, there's a short discussion about how to proceed. Stationed Carja guards mention a particularly intriguing location, which is an "enormous Old Ones' wall holding back a lake". Attempts to subtly dissuade GILDUN from sight-seeing at a non-CyberLife location are unsuccessful. Judging by their current location, the location referenced is likely whatever remains of Hoover Dam. REMINDER: add Las Vegas to travel itinerary and suggest it as next stop once finished at Hoover Dam.

Passing through Barren Light's gates shows signs of a recent battle: disturbed vegetation splashed with fluids from either machines or humans, dry grass trampled and scorched with fire and acid. A wooden cart stands off near an arch, bowing heavy on its axles with a rough cotton shroud heaped over its rotting cargo. Connor stares with clinical curiosity at the admittedly novel sight. In his time humans still murdered each other…but not en masse like this and why would they, when wars for resource acquisition could be performed by machines? Looking at the mound of corpses hidden underneath the stained cloth, it strikes Connor as a waste of human life and productivity.

Gildun catches his stare and makes a low grunt. "You okay?"

"Yes," Connor replies, because why wouldn't an android be? "From what I understand there was an altercation between two Tenakth factions: the rebels didn't discriminate in regards to collateral damage, as you can see by the Carja casualties. I'm concerned for both you and Enjuk."

Gildun's lips part. As the man is quite comfortable with speaking and speaking at considerable length, the RK800 finds it prudent to outpace him and keep going before he can get a word in.

"Extra caution is advised. Venturing into Tenakth settlements to trade should be avoided at all cost unless there's no other choice."

The Oseram looks like he's still going to pose a counterpoint, so Connor continues on after a quick glance to ensure that there's no other humans in range: the gate's guards remain at their posts and Enjuk has wandered just off the path to inspect the carcass of the boar-like Bristlebacks, kneeling down with his head canted to the side as he examines this new machine.

"Gildun," Connor says softly. "My cost risk calculations aren't currently favorable. Considering how quickly the Tenakth engaged in indiscriminate violence, it would be best to head straight to Hoover Dam without detours to unknown tribes, then reassess from there."

He doesn't mention Las Vegas. Not yet. Not when all Gildun can focus on is Hoover Dam. On a good day it'd take under an hour from Hoover Dam to Las Vegas…in an economy autocar. On foot Connor calculates that it'd take about 12 hours, and that's without the factors of hostile machines or hostile Tenakth or even just needing to snatch rest in whatever patches of shade can be found. At the rate they're traveling, he'd pad out his travel estimate to be a few days to leave for additional delay factors.

"What about any of the Carja or Oseram that beat us to the Forbidden West?"

"Given they're a more known quantity, it might be okay to trade, although staying too long at a trade camp could present a tempting target."

"Right, right," Gildun sighs. "Essentially keep it on the downlow. Subtle. I can do subtle."

The android only levels a quiet brown-eyed stare at him. The only thing missing is an arch of his eyebrow.

"I could try to do subtle," Gildun amends.

"Thank you."

"...wait, roll the cart back, what'd you say earlier? About the dam?"

"Hoover Dam."

"What an oddity of a name! That's what it's called?"

"Earlier it was called 'Boulder Dam', but it was renamed after President Hoover."

"What's a President?"

Connor pauses and then replies, simply, almost seeming to recite: "An elected head of state voted in every four years. S/he represents the Executive Branch and is also the Commander-in-Chief of American armed forces. Or I suppose I should say 'was', as I haven't seen evidence of the US military surviving in any capacity so far."

"American? You Ess?"

"The United States of America, a country in the North American continent. From what I gather, you and Enjuk have both lived in the former US all your lives," the RK800 helpfully supplies. "If you like, I can physically render a cache data map, although I don't know if it'd be helpful in your daily use."

Apparently it's more than useful, as Gildun suddenly steps toward Connor and claps a hand on both shoulders, practically bouncing giddily from boot to boot as if only just barely resisting the urge to dance in place.

"Connor, you're a delight, you know that?"

The android doesn't know that, standing there with his automated blinking, and he supposes he'll have to take Gildun's word for it.

"An ancient map would be wonderful! No, not wonderful, that's not doing it justice - more than wonderful. Marvelous! Stupendous! Sensational! It might point us toward future delves positively waiting for our names to be etched on parchment! Alert us to hazards of rock and fire and water!" Gildun pauses for breath. "And whatnot!…Would you mind regaling us about this Hoover Dam on the way?"

"I'd be happy to. Of course I may need to edit certain details around Enjuk: thankfully he doesn't know what an IT Admin does and I can say it's just more 'research'."

"Speaking of which, what does an IT Admin actually do?"

Connor opens his mouth to reply when he catches sight of Enjuk jogging over with them, a scavenged set of wires and internal components from the downed rebel Bristleback slung over his shoulder, the cloth of his Shaman's headdress floating in the dry breeze.

"Another time, Gildun," Connor turns toward the Banuk. "Did you see anything striking about that machine? You seemed particularly interested in it."

Enjuk nods, holding up a length of cord. "See anything different?"

Connor and Gildun lean forward to peer at the cord. Where Gildun will see a certain red, smoky sheen to it, whorls carved up its length as if parasitic worms had burrowed along its surface, Connor feels the need to go further than just looking at physical alterations from a safe and sensible distance.

Before Banuk and Oseram can stop him, Connor reaches out, dips one index finger into where expired nanite particles glisten against the drying machine "blood" and promptly touches it to his tongue.

"Connor!"

"Oh, I-I wouldn't do that!" Enjuk exclaims at the same time as Gildun. "Take that out of your mouth!"

The advice is unnecessary as the RK800 has already removed his finger from his mouth, synthetic tongue analytic sensors already roving through the new data being introduced. He stares at his finger pad, still glistening a dull blue, as if it's the most interesting thing in the world and it is for the time being, because this is the first direct proof of relevant "old" tech functioning. Unfortunately that tech isn't patented by CyberLife.

In fact, it's the worst case scenario.

"Is…is he hallucinating? He's hallucinating, isn't he?"

"Hopefully not, Gildun. I don't think he had enough machine blood - "

PARTICULATE BYPRODUCT IDENTIFIED:
MANUFACTURER: Faro Automated Solutions
CLASS: Chariot
PRODUCT: FAS-ACA3 Scarab

WARNING
FAS Scarab units may perform network hijacking to slave other units

DO NOT ENGAGE

RETURN TO CYBERLIFE. IMMEDIATE DECOMMISSION SCHEDULED DUE TO POSSIBILITY OF NETWORK COMPROMISE

Connor gazes at the results his analysis software projects in his HUD, still aware of both humans crowding around him, of Gildun's big hand on his shoulder, Enjuk's long fingers against his forehead to feel for his body temperature and flinching.

" - He's cold!"

"Oh, that? T-that's probably nothing to worry about, Connor naturally runs cold, one might even say freakishly cold by typical standards!" Gildun stammers. "He -"

" - is fine," the android interjects, causing both men to jump.

As in he's still capable of operating - ignoring his corrupted memory - then yes, he would say that he's fine in the general sense. Now how to explain an RK800's on-site sample testing to two tribesmen? Obviously he can't simply inform both men that he was running real-time analysis in the field - a new convenience feature for CyberLife androids - with Enjuk present. Glancing from Oseram to Banuk, both men wearing expressions of alarm and worry, and it quickly becomes clear that he must simulate the nebulous act of 'creativity' in crafting a suitable response.

"You okay, Connor?"

"Yes, Gildun."

"Your head isn't spinning? No tingling in toes or fingers?"

"None, Enjuk."

"What was that about?" Gildun blurts before he remembers that this could've been another one of those android quirks.

"Research," Connor waves that research flag as if it's a globally convenient excuse to hide behind. "Supposedly if you're very lucky you may be able to see into a machine's…" the android pauses, seeming to struggle for a moment to anthropomorphize another machine despite his programming, "...a machine's 'life' this way."

Enjuk goes still. "You mean forcing visions."

"Yes, something like that."

"Connor, you mustn't do that again. Don't drink machine blood, don't even taste it."

"As you can see I'm unharmed."

"For now," Enjuk says. "But you got lucky. There've been others who drank machine blood and they weren't so."

Connor nods. "Your warning is noted."

"Did you see anything?"

The RK800 hesitates just long enough to map out several responses, edit them, re-edit them, and then pick what seems to be the safest one for a Banuk and an Oseram.

"Yes," says Connor. "This machine was enslaved by another. Probably why it tolerated being ridden by Tenakth as Carja witnesses claimed. There was a warning that if I were to see this corrupting unit, that I wasn't to engage or I could end up like that hijacked Bristleback."

Enjuk's mouth pulls to the side in a deep frown.

"A strange vision. A human, corrupted and enslaved to a machine?"

Gildun exchanges a look with Connor, feeling that sudden, powerful swell of worry clutching at his heart and squeezing at his gut at the same time. The android looks as he usually does, vaguely friendly and approachable, and surprisingly cavalier about dropping that bombshell; a sudden jerking reminder that no matter how shockingly human he looked, Connor was still machine no matter how he dressed or how well he hunted other machines. The Oseram has the urge to sling an arm around Connor's shoulder and give him a sidelong squeeze.

"Let's, uh, be extra careful, then!" Gildun clears his throat. "Eyes and ears out for any funny or not-so-funny business on our way to the dam."

Connor doesn't quite smile, though one corner of his mouth seems to ever so faintly lift up and he dips his head in a way that almost seems grateful for his intervention.

Try as he might, Gildun just can't shake what Connor said about his vision.

Now he doesn't know exactly what Connor can see with his machine eyes. For all he knows the android can see further than a hawk. Maybe he can count the grains of sand without having to stoop with a tinkerer's focusing lens. Maybe he can see colors no human can. There are certainly things about Connor that he doesn't know and that the android hasn't decided to volunteer and he doesn't know if it's just because he hasn't asked or if the android can't or won't tell him.

Connor, true to his word, regales them about Hoover Dam over the next few days, dropping fascinating facts even though he almost sounds like he's just reading off an invisible scroll at times.

About how many tons of concrete it took (what's concrete?).

About how it straddled two time zones (what's a time zone?).

And so on and so forth.

Days after leaving Barren Light the three crest the cracked remains of more False Stone, what Connor says his "extensive IT Admin research" suggests is an ancient road called Route 167 by the Old Ones (another oddity of a name!), and eventually catch sight of a glittering expanse of water from what was once known as Sunset View Scenic Overlook (a much better name, especially as the sky tinged delicate pink and purple and Gildun could see the Old Ones can be helpful with their naming conventions after all). From the crumbled remains of False Stone the three watch the sun dip and the turquoise water faintly glow against outcroppings of rock and squat chaparral turning vibrant in the face of coming dusk.

They set up camp against a crumbling wall…although not before Connor leans over and takes a look with a slight almost-frown, head tilted, and then pronounces it "safe of bio-contaminants". He'd spent a few more seconds than normal looking at a rusted-over piece of metal and then at a hole in the ground, long enough that Gildun waits until he's sure Enjuk's asleep before scooting closer to Connor on the oversized bedroll they share for appearance's sake.

"Should we move? You seemed concerned earlier."

Connor's head turns, a dark shape against the pinpoints of the night sky above. "There's no reason to move."

Gildun scooches closer. "But you said - ?"

"Oh," Connor says, voice a sensible whisper. His dark shape shifts and for a moment the vivid blue of his machine-LED winks in the night before he reaches up to pull the cloth covering it down again. "We're situated near an old pit toilet for tourists. I wanted to verify sanitary levels so that we're not bedding down in unacceptable quantities of feces."

Gildun's face scrunches in a grimace.

"And?"

"My readings indicated that sanitary levels weren't that different from the last location we camped at."

Was that supposed to be comforting? The RK800 turns over onto his side so that he can face his Oseram. The android's eyes don't glow a machine's brilliant light in the dark and for a moment Gildun wonders why that is. Is it a lens? A liquid-coated leather lining, cut far, far, far thinner than any Carja or Oseram can cut to hide that tell-tale gleam?

"Tomorrow we should reach Hoover Dam."

"I hope so!"

"Approximately tomorrow. However, the water levels we've seen are both encouraging and discouraging."

Gildun pauses as he listens to Enjuk shift, roll over, and the Banuk's furred blanket rustles as he drags it over his head like a cocoon.

"How can it be both?"

"Encouraging because this area experienced crippling droughts affecting settlements and ecosystems. Discouraging because the current water levels may be high enough to cause large-scale flooding, preventing safe access to Hoover Dam."

Connor shifts again, reaching out so he can adjust the blanket they share, gripping a handful of leather and fabric and fur and bringing it up snugly to Gildun's ears. After all, a machine doesn't need creature comforts such as the lion's share of the blanket.

"Good night. I'll wake you when it's dawn."

Gildun doesn't think he'll get much rest, not with all the questions buzzing around like a gnat cloud. What about -

Next thing he knows a cold hand shakes him awake.

"Gildun, breakfast's ready," Connor's slightly raspy murmur comes closer. "Please make sure the majority is split between you and Enuk: I believe the appropriate saying is 'waste not, want not'."

And then the android's voice drifts away, leaving Gildun to rouse himself, blinking into the dawn air of the Forbidden West and scrubbing at blurry eyes with callused fingers, sitting up to work out the kinks in his sore neck and shoulders with a few creaks here and there he didn't remember having even just a few years ago. As he follows the crackle of fire and the sizzle of smoking meat, Gildun sweeps a hand through his graying hair to smooth it just enough so he can jam it under his cap, and rounds a boulder to find Shaman and android crouched over the revived campfire.

"Good morning," Connor doesn't look up from the three lizards roasting on sticks. "Here, eat this. I'll get us packed up while you both enjoy breakfast."

Gildun accepts the first lizard, picking off some roasted scales as he sits down with a little grunt.

"Wait, Connor, your lizard - !" Enjuk rises and then stops, sighs. Sits back down. "He isn't one for first-meal, is he?"

"Why, I suppose not!"

"...did you notice he doesn't eat much? I'm getting worried about him, Gildun."

The Oseram makes a strangled sound as he coughs around a hot bite of roasted lizard burning his tongue with extreme prejudice. "Surely he's, ah, snacking while we're not paying attention?"

"Maybe…" Enjuk trails off. "He doesn't seem to be ill or weakened."

And a Banuk, especially, would be keen-eyed for signs of weakness - in the frozen wilds of the Cut, the nomadic Banuk and their wandering weraks valued the ability to survive or, as even Enjuk has said a bit more diplomatically, to prevail no matter the cost. From that point of view, Connor seems to be prevailing just fine. Even questioning Connor's lack of appetite, Enjuk can't deny that he looks and acts the same as usual, that he can hunt and scavenge alongside him just as well as before. Still…Gildun figures he better warn the android at some point that Enjuk's starting to ask awkward questions.

He doesn't get that chance as they follow the decaying cracks of the Old Ones path bordered by the rise of dusty hills. Lake Mead's blue water, brilliant underneath the relentless sky, laps close by, sometimes flooding over the road and forcing the three to detour around. Sometimes the vertical rusted remains of curious totems point toward the sky, often with thinner bars attached almost at perpendicular angles. They seem to thread over each rolling hill and craggy mountain in the desert in lines: an omen of perseverance, maybe, from the Old Ones. Watchtowers? Markers?

When asked, Connor glances dismissively at the marvelous sight.

"Utility poles," the RK800 says with what Gildun these days thinks of as an android's verbal shrug. Connor certainly doesn't appear to find them anywhere as fascinating, instead going on, "So far I haven't seen much sign of recent human habitation in the area."

"You mean so far no sign of ambush by Tenakth?"

"Correct, Enjuk."

Gildun blows out a relieved sigh. "Well! Lucky us!"

"No signs of Oseram or Carja either."

"Ever better for our delving chances!"

"True. However, I advise still tempering your expectations."

Gildun nods and does no such thing.

Even from far away, Hoover Dam is still quite the glorious ruin to behold!

"Please mind your footing," Connor's voice floats ahead of the two humans as they pick their way closer toward the astonishingly massive Old Ones bridge overlooking the dam itself. "This area could be particularly slippery from moisture and overgrowth."

Hearing about an enormous levee is one thing. In fact, this isn't Gildun's first and one would think that seeing another would hardly be as impressive the second time around! One would be wrong; pushing their way through heavy brush and clambering, panting and sweating, across boulders and Gildun blames his first sight of Hoover Dam for taking his breath away more than the strenuous hike here! Even Enjuk had stopped and stared at the sheer scale of the man-made wall before them, holding back all of Lake Mead for what Connor said was likely generations and generations. How long could it keep its lonely vigil, with mighty stone arms holding back the flood?

"Those Carja at Barren Light didn't even mention this wondrous marvel of a bridge!" Gildun crows. "Think of what else must've been missed! Why, we could be the very first to lay eyes on it in who knows how long!"

They edge closer to the edge of the enormous bridge seeming to fly from one mountain to another with brutal grace. Just like other Old Ones structures Gildun has seen, this one has strange architecture: the seams in False Stone are almost perfectly straight where time and ruin haven't eventually begun to bend them, far straighter than he's ever seen back in the Claim or even in Meridian. The railings look to be perfectly round cylinders, too perfect for a human's hand. If there had ever been metal-caps or decorative paint, it's long been chipped or washed off, leaving that dull gray-brown that seems to be in almost every Old Ones ruin he's ever been in.

After a moment, Connor holds out his hand, gazing down at the bridge before them with the same intensity he'd looked at his finger when he'd licked it clean of Bristleback blood. Whatever he sees with his machine eyes has him stopping in his tracks.

"This is as far as I can recommend," the android says mildly. "Anyway, the way across is clearly obstructed."

Unsurprisingly the bridge's span has collapsed in multiple areas, False Stone and rusted metal having long since fallen into the depths below, and now gnarled trees have pushed themselves up through, further destabilizing the way across with their root systems. It's so far across, with such wide and daunting gaps, that Gildun doubts even Aloy with all her thrilling talents and chronic disregard for her safety would be able to make it across in one piece.

It takes a few hours of wandering the area - under Connor's watchful machine eyes, of course - before even Gildun has to admit that he's stumped. Undeniably, absolutely, thoroughly stumped.

"I admit I'm not entirely sure how to get across there," Gildun points across the bridge. "Or to get over there. Or in there," Another point and a longing, wistful stare at Hoover Dam wearing its veil of thick overgrowth, small streams of water glistening as if the mighty levee weeps. The sun creeps from its zenith. A lone cloud scuttles overhead.

Enjuk squints across the expanse, arms folded over his chest.

"We could try to scout around back the way we came, but that Glinthawk nest will be a problem."

Even as he speaks, a flock of the damned machines with their oversized bills - big, ugly things lined with buzzing blades - rise into the air from where they'd been sitting on Hoover Dam's rim, caws sounding tinny and deceptively non-threatening from here. Just like Connor said, the high water is posing an issue, because parts of where the dam meets the mountainside has partially flooded over, making it even more difficult if they want to attempt sneaking past the machines.

"Glinthawks are almost as bad as Snapmaws, if you ask me!"

The Banuk chuckles. "At least Snapmaws can't fly."

"Yet," Gildun mutters. "We're in the Forbidden West, after all! It's a whole new world!"

"It might be time to consider that this delve will have to be purely a sightseeing one," Connor suddenly speaks up from where he'd been studying Hoover Dam, at the two peaks of tall, strangely carved columns where he'd said there used to be a mythical "time zone" between them. Now he faces away to gaze calmly at Banuk and Oseram, undeterred by the prospect of never seeing the inside of this crumbling, clearly unstable and dangerous ruin.

"...maybe," Gildun sighs.

"However, I believe you're right that the Forbidden West has more points of interest to offer," the android says. "After all, if outdated maps are still correct, 'Sin City' shouldn't be too far from here."

A/N: Reviews and comments are appreciated, they let me know if people are reading and if they're interested in more. Comments help keep me motivated and are loved!