A clearing within Sanctuary
[12/26, Winter]
Leaves finds herself lost in the quiet ambience, her mind idling in quiet reflection. So much had occurred in such an incredibly minuscule amount of time, it was difficult for her worn network to process. What a strange land she found herself in. One that lies beyond the reality she had known. This was not the great garden she cared for-- One part of her even saying she shouldn't care much for this. But a strange sense of familiarity arises as the puppet observes the white, cloud-covered skies.
In another land, snow falls below her.
Here, it also falls upon her.
A loud SNAP brings Leaves out of her thoughts. As she looks down, the bonfire in front of her crackles and sputters. Embers rise into the cold air as warmth radiates outwards from the flaming wood. Wrapped in her orange-hued cloak, the puppet found herself comfortably warm despite the frigid winter air. Burning the remains of mindless sessile organisms is not something she should enjoy--or so she thought. The puppet's hand reaches down to pick up a long stick, before she leans over to prod the bonfire with it.
While she shifts the crumbling coals, another thought surfaces in Leaves' mind. One she put off. What would Fates think of her? The last time they spoke, Leaves rudely forced the communications to close--but she couldn't be blamed for that! That was not another feigned excuse to get out of a tiresome conversation. But how would Fates know that? Unable to access most of her mainframe's systems, she can't explain what happened to Fates. Would she even be believed? A spark flares up Leaves' mind, causing her to let out a sharp exhale.
"Hmph."
How she wishes to have her kin join her. Alas, Leaves was alone. It was just her, the bonfire, and the falling snow.
People seemed to have decided on 2B's behalf that she was too holed up, and she didn't much care for that. She had bunked with Towali and his family for long enough that she felt warmth for their little home that was outside of their fireplace, where creosote had clung to the stone walls within. Her connection was now to the people, and the feeling was mutual enough that they started to shoo her out of their abode during her free time.
Of course, 2B could have felt insulted by it, but she was starting to acknowledge - after many months in Sancutary - the fact that she longed for companionship she used to have instead of seeking out new ones here. Allies were important to have and she knew this - the Resistance was just one of a few examples she could think of. Or, admittedly, there were only two she could think of - the other being the Machine Village. Genuinely benign individuals were difficult to find amidst the violence of her world, like trying to hunt for food in a burnt forest after a wildfire.
Finding new connections in Sanctuary was more like finding moose in the City Ruins. They were there and it was possible that they were more abundant than they appeared. Even still, a lot of them did not belong there. Did they? They were natives driven out of their homes, like everyone else here. Like 2B was.
For certain, she was out of her element. Androids felt muted temperature changes compared to humans. Of course she'd gotten hot, but she did not sweat. Of course she felt the cold, but she did not shiver. Though, it was possible the latter was due to suppressing her reaction. Like sand in her boots that she ignored.
All 2B did as she walked through Sanctuary was rub her wool-cloaked arms. Her black sweatpants, covering leggings, were tucked into her short boots, but somehow she still felt the frigid wind like it was caressing her legs. It bit her to her titanium bones in a way that felt preternatural. She'd ponder if she was geared correctly, though she was just as likely to romp around in her YoRHa-issued uniform. Some accused it of being 'scanty.' 2B would have minded having her attire - and ultimately, her body - judged if she didn't just ignore it.
That was why she still wore her blindfold, even in clothing deemed as casual. She wore it to work, she wore it at 'home,' and she wore it to festivals, like this 'Celebration of Celebrations' that Towali's mate, Soo, pushed her into. She took it through the clearing, where she looked dead ahead to the enormous fire constructed there. To her mild surprise, there was only one person there - some sort of mechanical-looking figure, poking at the flames with a forlorn sort of demeanor.
Somehow, 2B pressed forward, like her feet were carrying herself on their own. Chunky heels clicking on stone turned into crunching into snow, which she adjusted to with automatic ease. Her lips were thinned. In a way, she felt like she wasn't supposed to be here. She had invited herself to the bonfire, after all.
She stopped just two yards away from it and swiveled her head to look at the machine. She lingered there for a moment, but then realized she felt a pressing need to say something before they did.
"Is it okay if I'm here?"
They felt like the wrong words. Too informal. Almost selfish.
Of course, 2B could have felt insulted by it, but she was starting to acknowledge - after many months in Sancutary - the fact that she longed for companionship she used to have instead of seeking out new ones here. Allies were important to have and she knew this - the Resistance was just one of a few examples she could think of. Or, admittedly, there were only two she could think of - the other being the Machine Village. Genuinely benign individuals were difficult to find amidst the violence of her world, like trying to hunt for food in a burnt forest after a wildfire.
Finding new connections in Sanctuary was more like finding moose in the City Ruins. They were there and it was possible that they were more abundant than they appeared. Even still, a lot of them did not belong there. Did they? They were natives driven out of their homes, like everyone else here. Like 2B was.
For certain, she was out of her element. Androids felt muted temperature changes compared to humans. Of course she'd gotten hot, but she did not sweat. Of course she felt the cold, but she did not shiver. Though, it was possible the latter was due to suppressing her reaction. Like sand in her boots that she ignored.
All 2B did as she walked through Sanctuary was rub her wool-cloaked arms. Her black sweatpants, covering leggings, were tucked into her short boots, but somehow she still felt the frigid wind like it was caressing her legs. It bit her to her titanium bones in a way that felt preternatural. She'd ponder if she was geared correctly, though she was just as likely to romp around in her YoRHa-issued uniform. Some accused it of being 'scanty.' 2B would have minded having her attire - and ultimately, her body - judged if she didn't just ignore it.
That was why she still wore her blindfold, even in clothing deemed as casual. She wore it to work, she wore it at 'home,' and she wore it to festivals, like this 'Celebration of Celebrations' that Towali's mate, Soo, pushed her into. She took it through the clearing, where she looked dead ahead to the enormous fire constructed there. To her mild surprise, there was only one person there - some sort of mechanical-looking figure, poking at the flames with a forlorn sort of demeanor.
Somehow, 2B pressed forward, like her feet were carrying herself on their own. Chunky heels clicking on stone turned into crunching into snow, which she adjusted to with automatic ease. Her lips were thinned. In a way, she felt like she wasn't supposed to be here. She had invited herself to the bonfire, after all.
She stopped just two yards away from it and swiveled her head to look at the machine. She lingered there for a moment, but then realized she felt a pressing need to say something before they did.
"Is it okay if I'm here?"
They felt like the wrong words. Too informal. Almost selfish.
At the sound of a voice, Leaves’ head whirls around with startling speed. With a whir, the metal ‘fins’ on the side of her head jump up—clearly someone wasn’t expecting company. As she silently stares at 2B, the puppet’s expression remains unreadable beneath the pinpoint ‘eyes’ of her mask. But as the question begins to register in her mind, she slowly begins to lean back.
Crackle. Hiss. The bonfire steadily burns, casting a flicking light upon the puppet.
A few nodes in the machine’s processing matrix click together for a moment, before the feeling fades away. As it does, Leaves’ head antennae lower back down. With the blindfold and sweater, the stranger almost resembles a Processor’s puppet. Almost.
“Yes, of course. To my knowledge, this area is not under restricted access.”
Leaves finally answers, her synthesized voice carrying a gentle echo.
“Please. Make yourself comfortable, if you wish.” She gestures aside, a clawed hand emerging from her orange cloak to point out a stump. The segmented plastic plates covering the limb appear scratched, with a few plates on her fingers seeming to be missing.
Crackle. Hiss. The bonfire steadily burns, casting a flicking light upon the puppet.
A few nodes in the machine’s processing matrix click together for a moment, before the feeling fades away. As it does, Leaves’ head antennae lower back down. With the blindfold and sweater, the stranger almost resembles a Processor’s puppet. Almost.
“Yes, of course. To my knowledge, this area is not under restricted access.”
Leaves finally answers, her synthesized voice carrying a gentle echo.
“Please. Make yourself comfortable, if you wish.” She gestures aside, a clawed hand emerging from her orange cloak to point out a stump. The segmented plastic plates covering the limb appear scratched, with a few plates on her fingers seeming to be missing.
Relief didn't diminish the awkwardness 2B felt, but at least it was confirmed to be tolerable, both by herself and the other machine. She nodded once and started her march towards the stump, her steps evenly paced. She lowered herself to the remains of the deceased tree until her backside touched it. From then on, her posture was a contradiction of relaxed and rigid. Her feet were positioned to the side, her legs tilted at an angle with her hands in her lap. However, her movements seemed deliberate and slow.
"Thank you."
No longer able to tolerate the stinging in her fingers, she extended her bare hands outwards to take in the bonfire's heat. For a moment, she became superficially fascinated with her own appendages. They were human-like, she was told. Soft, but lacking warmth. Detailed right down to the artificial fingernails, never growing or needing cutting - hers barely extended over her fingertips, femininely long but not impractical. Her hands would almost seem more delicate than the machine's. It was only if it weren't for the fact hers were designed with an iron grip for killing.
Though 2B felt it rude to voice this, the machine seemed fragile all over, somehow. She, too, seemed out of place. And she, too, seemed to be on edge.
". . . It's quiet." Conversation was not a Battler unit's strong suit. "I'm not used to places this quiet, except for the Bunker back at my world."
Even that was a half-true opinion, if those even existed. The Bunker was quiet in the definition of the word; the noises were soft ambience, humming with the elevators moving and the generators powering the station. The peace was frequently interrupted by the chatter of nearby androids, whether it was soldiers trying to bargain for the use of a flight unit in the hangar, or the transmissions of Operators in the war room. Meanwhile, Earth usually roared with combat or was otherwise disturbed by the shuffling of machines, when they weren't chanting their echoes of words like 'kill' and 'die.' Among the calmer places on Earth, 2B did not attribute this to the desert. It was silent, not quiet. That was much worse.
For a passing second, 2B wonders what this machine's world is like. Is it as noisy as Earth? Or was it as stagnant as the Bunker? She decides not to ask these things.
"My name is 2B," she decides to introduce herself as. "I got here a few months ago."
She couldn't remember exactly when at this point. Days bled into one another too easily. Did it even matter?
"Thank you."
No longer able to tolerate the stinging in her fingers, she extended her bare hands outwards to take in the bonfire's heat. For a moment, she became superficially fascinated with her own appendages. They were human-like, she was told. Soft, but lacking warmth. Detailed right down to the artificial fingernails, never growing or needing cutting - hers barely extended over her fingertips, femininely long but not impractical. Her hands would almost seem more delicate than the machine's. It was only if it weren't for the fact hers were designed with an iron grip for killing.
Though 2B felt it rude to voice this, the machine seemed fragile all over, somehow. She, too, seemed out of place. And she, too, seemed to be on edge.
". . . It's quiet." Conversation was not a Battler unit's strong suit. "I'm not used to places this quiet, except for the Bunker back at my world."
Even that was a half-true opinion, if those even existed. The Bunker was quiet in the definition of the word; the noises were soft ambience, humming with the elevators moving and the generators powering the station. The peace was frequently interrupted by the chatter of nearby androids, whether it was soldiers trying to bargain for the use of a flight unit in the hangar, or the transmissions of Operators in the war room. Meanwhile, Earth usually roared with combat or was otherwise disturbed by the shuffling of machines, when they weren't chanting their echoes of words like 'kill' and 'die.' Among the calmer places on Earth, 2B did not attribute this to the desert. It was silent, not quiet. That was much worse.
For a passing second, 2B wonders what this machine's world is like. Is it as noisy as Earth? Or was it as stagnant as the Bunker? She decides not to ask these things.
"My name is 2B," she decides to introduce herself as. "I got here a few months ago."
She couldn't remember exactly when at this point. Days bled into one another too easily. Did it even matter?
Leaves watches the android as she sat down, before turning back to the bonfire. Her lightly damaged arm retreats back under her cloak, and she gradually hunches over once again. With the tip of the lengthy stick she held, coals are prodded and turned over. Even though it wasn’t needed, it entertained the machine, crude as it was. An antenna swivels around, angling towards 2B as she spoke.
The antenna adjusts with a whir, before Leaves’ head violently jolts to the side. Slowly, without comment, her head tilts back into place.
A month. Months? The ones who helped Leaves ease into Sanctuary informed her of the time system used here, giving her a rough idea of how long that was. While she wasn’t sure how months translated into semi-revolutions, she understood enough that 2B was here longer than she was. Ultimately, it was a tiny amount of time to the long-lived Great Processor.
“…You are new here. Like I am.”
Leaves states while not looking away from the fire.
“If my understanding is correct, I arrived less than a month ago. It was not the most pleasant arrival, but I am here regardless.”
Leaning back, the machine calmly stares at the charred end of her stick as she holds it up.
“My full designation is Watches Falling Leaves. For the ease of conversation, I may be referred to as... Leaves.” Leaves spoke, her gentle voice taking on a lighter, almost playful tone at the end.
While she had enjoyed listening to the ambience, it was nice enough to have someone to talk to. Even if vocalizing was stranger than directly transmitting messages.
The antenna adjusts with a whir, before Leaves’ head violently jolts to the side. Slowly, without comment, her head tilts back into place.
A month. Months? The ones who helped Leaves ease into Sanctuary informed her of the time system used here, giving her a rough idea of how long that was. While she wasn’t sure how months translated into semi-revolutions, she understood enough that 2B was here longer than she was. Ultimately, it was a tiny amount of time to the long-lived Great Processor.
“…You are new here. Like I am.”
Leaves states while not looking away from the fire.
“If my understanding is correct, I arrived less than a month ago. It was not the most pleasant arrival, but I am here regardless.”
Leaning back, the machine calmly stares at the charred end of her stick as she holds it up.
“My full designation is Watches Falling Leaves. For the ease of conversation, I may be referred to as... Leaves.” Leaves spoke, her gentle voice taking on a lighter, almost playful tone at the end.
While she had enjoyed listening to the ambience, it was nice enough to have someone to talk to. Even if vocalizing was stranger than directly transmitting messages.
Though Leaves' body language spoke in shudders and twitches, 2B did not flinch. It was likely another suppressed reaction. She was usually prepared to be struck at any moment. There was only a very minute number of people she truly could relax around.
Alas, those people were very, very far away.
"Somewhat, Leaves," 2B allowed, upon the mention of her being new. The oddness of the name passed her. It wasn't important. "Your world follows a different measurement of time?"
Time. Thousands of centuries made every day seem painfully short. Not enough time. Never enough for any android to truly live.
Come to think of it, 2B didn't know of any android from her world that wasn't a soldier. It was all for humanity and whatever time they had left. What luxuries they had were shipped off in crates to the moon.
"The androids use one universally, but I've heard of worlds that have several that are used by different groups of people."
2B shifted a bit in her seat. Once again, she made herself feel awkward at how little she knew about humanity from her world. She only knew those from others, who were comprised of so many different groups and spoke so many different languages and had so many different customs. 2B only spoke English. What was an Engle? What did they live for? What did they celebrate? Maybe it was true that the Celebration of Celebrations would open her eyes.
Alas, those people were very, very far away.
"Somewhat, Leaves," 2B allowed, upon the mention of her being new. The oddness of the name passed her. It wasn't important. "Your world follows a different measurement of time?"
Time. Thousands of centuries made every day seem painfully short. Not enough time. Never enough for any android to truly live.
Come to think of it, 2B didn't know of any android from her world that wasn't a soldier. It was all for humanity and whatever time they had left. What luxuries they had were shipped off in crates to the moon.
"The androids use one universally, but I've heard of worlds that have several that are used by different groups of people."
2B shifted a bit in her seat. Once again, she made herself feel awkward at how little she knew about humanity from her world. She only knew those from others, who were comprised of so many different groups and spoke so many different languages and had so many different customs. 2B only spoke English. What was an Engle? What did they live for? What did they celebrate? Maybe it was true that the Celebration of Celebrations would open her eyes.
Android. The term was unfamiliar to Leaves, with her vast memory array drawing blanks despite measured searches. The machine’s arm jitters as new knowledge is imprinted, before going perfectly still again. Slowly, her head turns to face 2B as she lowers the lengthy stick. There were a few things she did know, at least.
“Curious. Great Processors abide by two different time systems. A Local Stellar Calendar, and the Absolute Universal Calendar.” She states simply, just like the queries she used to answer so long ago.
“Both are measured in Cycles, Sets, Revolutions, Subepochs, and Epochs.” The machine thinks it has been about ten cycles since her arrival. Or her internal clock tells her. She found it difficult to trust many of her erratic subsystems.
As Leaves spoke, she turns back towards the bonfire, before a nearby twig catches her attention. Looking down at it, she sets her stick onto the ground. The machine extends an open palm towards the out-of-reach twig, beginning to concentrate energy into her telekinetic systems. A deep red glow manifests behind her head, and a noisy mechanical hum begins to rise in tone.
Except, nothing is accomplished before Leaves suddenly goes limp, her whole body drooping downwards like a ragdoll. A few seconds later, what sounds like a crackle of electricity can be heard from within her chest, causing her limbs to twitch a few times.
Curses.
“Curious. Great Processors abide by two different time systems. A Local Stellar Calendar, and the Absolute Universal Calendar.” She states simply, just like the queries she used to answer so long ago.
“Both are measured in Cycles, Sets, Revolutions, Subepochs, and Epochs.” The machine thinks it has been about ten cycles since her arrival. Or her internal clock tells her. She found it difficult to trust many of her erratic subsystems.
As Leaves spoke, she turns back towards the bonfire, before a nearby twig catches her attention. Looking down at it, she sets her stick onto the ground. The machine extends an open palm towards the out-of-reach twig, beginning to concentrate energy into her telekinetic systems. A deep red glow manifests behind her head, and a noisy mechanical hum begins to rise in tone.
Except, nothing is accomplished before Leaves suddenly goes limp, her whole body drooping downwards like a ragdoll. A few seconds later, what sounds like a crackle of electricity can be heard from within her chest, causing her limbs to twitch a few times.
Curses.
'Local Stellar Calendar?' 'Absolute Universal Calendar?' What exactly did those all entail? Was the local calendar specific to a planet or to its geographic regions? Not that 2B would understand a lot of that - Earth had long since stopped spinning on its axis. That was how badly the machines had destroyed it.
A shudder traveled down 2B's spine. A chill from the wind? Or at her thoughts? She elected to ignore it.
Instead, something far more interesting occurs, thanks to Leaves' activity. A mysterious red glow had emanated from her hand in a way that made 2B lean away slightly. She recoiled very slowly, her arm closest to Leaves lifting away. She crossed it over her own body, almost as if to protect herself. Machines having any sort of red light was immediately a telltale sign of something very bad happening. Something very bad to everything around it, especially other machines and androids.
2B felt her anxiety rise with the tone Leaves emitted. Her jaw had tightened to the point she could feel the pressure in her teeth. In a split second, she contemplated her option to summon Virtuous Contract, her main arm. In the same rush, she'd also wondered if she could plea self-defense if something did happen. It was Sanctuary, after all. the Crackle Storms did things to machines.
And then Leaves collapsed. 2B took two seconds to register what just happened before standing up, feet part and arms bent.
". . . Are. . . you okay?" In the moment that 2B contemplated killing Leaves, she also fret for the fact that she might have actually succumbed to great damage after all. "Leaves?"
She hovered over her, in a way, unsure of what to do now. She glanced around in some futile hope that someone could assist her. Alas, she was alone. At least her limbs were still moving. . . or they were simply spasms of injury.
"Just. . . say something?"
A shudder traveled down 2B's spine. A chill from the wind? Or at her thoughts? She elected to ignore it.
Instead, something far more interesting occurs, thanks to Leaves' activity. A mysterious red glow had emanated from her hand in a way that made 2B lean away slightly. She recoiled very slowly, her arm closest to Leaves lifting away. She crossed it over her own body, almost as if to protect herself. Machines having any sort of red light was immediately a telltale sign of something very bad happening. Something very bad to everything around it, especially other machines and androids.
2B felt her anxiety rise with the tone Leaves emitted. Her jaw had tightened to the point she could feel the pressure in her teeth. In a split second, she contemplated her option to summon Virtuous Contract, her main arm. In the same rush, she'd also wondered if she could plea self-defense if something did happen. It was Sanctuary, after all. the Crackle Storms did things to machines.
And then Leaves collapsed. 2B took two seconds to register what just happened before standing up, feet part and arms bent.
". . . Are. . . you okay?" In the moment that 2B contemplated killing Leaves, she also fret for the fact that she might have actually succumbed to great damage after all. "Leaves?"
She hovered over her, in a way, unsure of what to do now. She glanced around in some futile hope that someone could assist her. Alas, she was alone. At least her limbs were still moving. . . or they were simply spasms of injury.
"Just. . . say something?"
ERROR – CORE TEMPERATURE EXCEEDS SAFE LIMITS
FORCE STOP!
PROCESS STOP!
REINITIALIZE SAFE CYCLE!
Those messages were spoken without a voice, but were deafening as they echoed in the Great Processor’s mind. For a moment, she was not in Sanctuary. She was not peering into another reality. Leaves only perceived the blinding noise of her vast mainframe’s many subsystems. The Great Processor was within the secondary seat of her self. Regrettably.
Unable to centralize her thoughts, she could not speak to it. It was not happy with her. Nor was Leaves, to be honest.
But another voice spoke to her, above the cacophonous chorus. A voice somewhere she had been before. Was it her own? It sounded familiar. The color pink comes to mind. Pink? That wasn't a color she associated herself with. That is not her voice, then. But who's? No matter, there was no time to dream about it—she was waking up again.
“A-a-ah.” The puppet produces an electronic gasp, fingers twitching like they were being tugged by strings. With her memories coming back online, Leaves realizes what just occurred, causing her to slowly force herself back upright. Cracks and creaks come from her joints as she lifts a hand to her chest. A lingering pain sits within what could be called a heart, causing her hand to tightly grip the orange cloak she wore.
A reminder not to do that again any time soon, or else.
Within the bonfire, a piece of burning wood makes a loud snap.
“…Hello?” Leaves finally speaks, her voice its normal calm tone. The puppet’s head sharply turns away from 2B, before snapping towards her. Registering what she was seeing, her antennae jump upwards, not expecting the android to have moved. “Oh!”
She lets go of her chest as her arm dropped to her lap. ". . .I apologize for that. I am still recovering."
FORCE STOP!
PROCESS STOP!
REINITIALIZE SAFE CYCLE!
Those messages were spoken without a voice, but were deafening as they echoed in the Great Processor’s mind. For a moment, she was not in Sanctuary. She was not peering into another reality. Leaves only perceived the blinding noise of her vast mainframe’s many subsystems. The Great Processor was within the secondary seat of her self. Regrettably.
Unable to centralize her thoughts, she could not speak to it. It was not happy with her. Nor was Leaves, to be honest.
But another voice spoke to her, above the cacophonous chorus. A voice somewhere she had been before. Was it her own? It sounded familiar. The color pink comes to mind. Pink? That wasn't a color she associated herself with. That is not her voice, then. But who's? No matter, there was no time to dream about it—she was waking up again.
“A-a-ah.” The puppet produces an electronic gasp, fingers twitching like they were being tugged by strings. With her memories coming back online, Leaves realizes what just occurred, causing her to slowly force herself back upright. Cracks and creaks come from her joints as she lifts a hand to her chest. A lingering pain sits within what could be called a heart, causing her hand to tightly grip the orange cloak she wore.
A reminder not to do that again any time soon, or else.
Within the bonfire, a piece of burning wood makes a loud snap.
“…Hello?” Leaves finally speaks, her voice its normal calm tone. The puppet’s head sharply turns away from 2B, before snapping towards her. Registering what she was seeing, her antennae jump upwards, not expecting the android to have moved. “Oh!”
She lets go of her chest as her arm dropped to her lap. ". . .I apologize for that. I am still recovering."
2B would have half a mind to start prodding at Leaves' body if it weren't for the fact she still registered her as a potential danger. Thus, when Leaves jolted back to life, she flinched harshly. She took two steps back, lips parting as an artificially-controlled breath escaped her. It was then that she realized her hands were balled into fists. She had to force herself to relax them, which only made her knuckles hurt from a combination of tenseness and the cold.
"Oh, you're back," she said, sounding a bit too casual, but relieved all the same. "You startled me. Don't do that again."
Saying she was startled was a lot more dignified than telling a stranger that she scared her, especially if it was a machine. This one was obviously not amongst the ones that destroyed Earth, her Earth, but her apparent powers were suspicious all the same. Maybe it was partly because she didn't move like an android - like a human. Humanity meant familiarity for 2B, as little as she knew about actual humans. Familiarity did not mean safety, but it meant she knew what she was dealing with.
Slowly, she lowered herself back to her seat, not even granting Leaves the kindness of helping her to her feet. 2B was too paranoid that something might happen again. She didn't want to be in the middle of it.
"You said you're still recovering. . ." Her expression hardened a bit. "Are you injured? Mechanics are hard to find around here. Everyone shuns technology in general."
"Oh, you're back," she said, sounding a bit too casual, but relieved all the same. "You startled me. Don't do that again."
Saying she was startled was a lot more dignified than telling a stranger that she scared her, especially if it was a machine. This one was obviously not amongst the ones that destroyed Earth, her Earth, but her apparent powers were suspicious all the same. Maybe it was partly because she didn't move like an android - like a human. Humanity meant familiarity for 2B, as little as she knew about actual humans. Familiarity did not mean safety, but it meant she knew what she was dealing with.
Slowly, she lowered herself back to her seat, not even granting Leaves the kindness of helping her to her feet. 2B was too paranoid that something might happen again. She didn't want to be in the middle of it.
"You said you're still recovering. . ." Her expression hardened a bit. "Are you injured? Mechanics are hard to find around here. Everyone shuns technology in general."
It would be a lie to say that Leaves did not feel a pang of guilt at 2B’s request. But the puppet did not show any emotion of the sort, not even beneath her expressionless mask. Pressing her creaking hands against the stump, she calmly slides back onto it. Lifting herself up and down an inch, her long cloak is gingerly moved out from under her backside.
As 2B spoke again, Leaves’ head slowly turns, scanning the town around the clearing. Hearing that technology was frowned upon was not something Leaves had anticipated. Why? Nobody told her about that fact. Perhaps they were simply being kind to her. Or that her Puppet was convincingly ‘organic’ enough.
Something to inquire about later. The machine shelves the thought, her head swiftly turning back towards 2B.
“. . .I am,” Leaves answers, maintaining her usual stoic tone. “But it is not due to a lack of mechanics here. No. Even if someone could repair me, my internals require time to fully resume regular operation.”
The puppet stares at the android, before she starts shivering as if she was deathly cold. But only for a second, her body abruptly going back to being still as a statue.
“You have to understand, much of my body is organic in nature. I cannot be fixed like a machine made only of a metal chassis and inner circuits.” She states bluntly, lifting her right arm to show the plastic shell covering it. A web of cracks branch out from a singular spot on her inner forearm. "Only my benefactors know how."
As 2B spoke again, Leaves’ head slowly turns, scanning the town around the clearing. Hearing that technology was frowned upon was not something Leaves had anticipated. Why? Nobody told her about that fact. Perhaps they were simply being kind to her. Or that her Puppet was convincingly ‘organic’ enough.
Something to inquire about later. The machine shelves the thought, her head swiftly turning back towards 2B.
“. . .I am,” Leaves answers, maintaining her usual stoic tone. “But it is not due to a lack of mechanics here. No. Even if someone could repair me, my internals require time to fully resume regular operation.”
The puppet stares at the android, before she starts shivering as if she was deathly cold. But only for a second, her body abruptly going back to being still as a statue.
“You have to understand, much of my body is organic in nature. I cannot be fixed like a machine made only of a metal chassis and inner circuits.” She states bluntly, lifting her right arm to show the plastic shell covering it. A web of cracks branch out from a singular spot on her inner forearm. "Only my benefactors know how."
Until now, 2B hadn't considered the fact that this machine was actually part organic. Perhaps it wasn't so strange; androids had functions that resembled biological ones as well. They could eat and sleep, as a couple of many examples. However, they weren't truly organic. To have parts that didn't just resemble biological components, but were them - as meat - slightly disturbed 2B.
"So you have a very specific anatomy," she said, again casually. Betraying her thoughts. "I understand. I. . ."
Her fists tightened in her lap. What did one say to this sort of revelation? This interaction? It was a machine that healed partly on its own. 2B could do the same, but only with the assistance of devices designed with the express purpose of healing androids. They weren't inherently medicines though. Did she need medicine? Supposedly only her 'benefactors' knew. She felt a pang of guilt at her assumption that Leaves could even be helped in the first place.
Then, 2B decided that maybe well wishes could have gone a long way for the both of them.
"I hope you feel better soon."
Feeling better might have been more likely than actually getting better. She could have left it at that. Alas, she made another comment that she immediately regretted.
"I don't know a lot of machines that have organic parts."
"So you have a very specific anatomy," she said, again casually. Betraying her thoughts. "I understand. I. . ."
Her fists tightened in her lap. What did one say to this sort of revelation? This interaction? It was a machine that healed partly on its own. 2B could do the same, but only with the assistance of devices designed with the express purpose of healing androids. They weren't inherently medicines though. Did she need medicine? Supposedly only her 'benefactors' knew. She felt a pang of guilt at her assumption that Leaves could even be helped in the first place.
Then, 2B decided that maybe well wishes could have gone a long way for the both of them.
"I hope you feel better soon."
Feeling better might have been more likely than actually getting better. She could have left it at that. Alas, she made another comment that she immediately regretted.
"I don't know a lot of machines that have organic parts."
A little feeling of warmth stirs inside the puppet, 2B’s well wishes lifting her tired spirit. She feels a little less angry at herself, and a little more hopeful. Perhaps if Leaves wasn’t wearing her mask, the world would be graced with another smile. Alas, her creators permitted her to express only so much.
“Thank you.” She responds, pulling her right arm back underneath her long cloak. The machine pulls her long, thin legs up, crossing them together. Getting comfortable, she places a hand onto the stump, leaning against her arm. “It should not be long. A ‘week,’ by my estimates.” Or she hopes.
To hear that the android did not know synthetic organisms like Leaves interested the Great Processor.
“It is very commonplace where I am from. The art of unifying flesh with metal, I mean.” She explains gently, turning her head towards the bonfire. “I couldn’t tell you how it first started. The oldest records paint a strange picture. It seems that the practice has been around since the inception of the first civilizations. In a primitive form, however.”
The puppet’s head jitters to the side before she then looks towards 2B.
Unlike the other machine, she feels little hesitation in asking questions. Such was Leaves' growing interest in the worlds of others. What cultures she could see, what history to unearth! That they even existed was a monumental discovery to her. So, she has to ask.
“. . .I understand it is not a common practice in the land you are from? Would I be incorrect to assume there is little, if any, flesh incorporated into your form? I am interested to hear.”
“Thank you.” She responds, pulling her right arm back underneath her long cloak. The machine pulls her long, thin legs up, crossing them together. Getting comfortable, she places a hand onto the stump, leaning against her arm. “It should not be long. A ‘week,’ by my estimates.” Or she hopes.
To hear that the android did not know synthetic organisms like Leaves interested the Great Processor.
“It is very commonplace where I am from. The art of unifying flesh with metal, I mean.” She explains gently, turning her head towards the bonfire. “I couldn’t tell you how it first started. The oldest records paint a strange picture. It seems that the practice has been around since the inception of the first civilizations. In a primitive form, however.”
The puppet’s head jitters to the side before she then looks towards 2B.
Unlike the other machine, she feels little hesitation in asking questions. Such was Leaves' growing interest in the worlds of others. What cultures she could see, what history to unearth! That they even existed was a monumental discovery to her. So, she has to ask.
“. . .I understand it is not a common practice in the land you are from? Would I be incorrect to assume there is little, if any, flesh incorporated into your form? I am interested to hear.”
2B wasn't entirely sure the humans of her own world has invented the wheel yet when Leaves' own made bio-machines. Then again, she had no idea about early civilizations. The thought made her lips purse - Leaves was so well-versed in her world's history. She must have been an important person. 2B wouldn't ask about it though. She didn't want her to feel pressured to talk more about her role than she had to.
"Any 'flesh' I'm built with it artificial. The same goes for all other androids of my world." It was voiced more like an explanation than anything that held bitterness. She did not resent her form. "My muscles are actuators created with materials that transmit electric signals. My body is also filled with coolant fluid rather than blood, but I have a pump that moves it. I suppose it's in the same way a heart would."
It didn't even look like a heart to begin with. Deep down, android anatomy was stark in difference compared to the human body, but things also functioned relatively the same. She just had an artificial means to do it. Artificial. . .
Her face lowered as her hands were balled into loose fists on her lap. The glow of the bonfire cast warm hues across her features. Even her cheeks were tinted red somehow from the warmth. An artificial function of her body's coolant system.Maybe her feelings were artificial as well.
"Do you need to eat or sleep then?" She faced Leaves again, finding the strength to react to this notion with sternness rather than self-pity. "Androids can do both, but they are not requirements. Still, the Bunker was stocked with beds for its soldiers if they wanted to rest, and the androids of the Resistance bought meat and eggs for consumption at high prices."
She turned away suddenly. It seemed like such a waste for just luxuries, but 2B couldn't deny she enjoyed those as well. Especially when it came to collecting her music records. The lengths she'd go just to find the right one. . .
"Any 'flesh' I'm built with it artificial. The same goes for all other androids of my world." It was voiced more like an explanation than anything that held bitterness. She did not resent her form. "My muscles are actuators created with materials that transmit electric signals. My body is also filled with coolant fluid rather than blood, but I have a pump that moves it. I suppose it's in the same way a heart would."
It didn't even look like a heart to begin with. Deep down, android anatomy was stark in difference compared to the human body, but things also functioned relatively the same. She just had an artificial means to do it. Artificial. . .
Her face lowered as her hands were balled into loose fists on her lap. The glow of the bonfire cast warm hues across her features. Even her cheeks were tinted red somehow from the warmth. An artificial function of her body's coolant system.
"Do you need to eat or sleep then?" She faced Leaves again, finding the strength to react to this notion with sternness rather than self-pity. "Androids can do both, but they are not requirements. Still, the Bunker was stocked with beds for its soldiers if they wanted to rest, and the androids of the Resistance bought meat and eggs for consumption at high prices."
She turned away suddenly. It seemed like such a waste for just luxuries, but 2B couldn't deny she enjoyed those as well. Especially when it came to collecting her music records. The lengths she'd go just to find the right one. . .
Leaves finds herself subtly impressed by 2B’s statements as her antennae flick up. Despite being entirely inorganic, the android looked convincingly organic from her eyes. And she behaved rather organically too. She claims they even can eat! There is no fully mechanical organism like that in the Great Processor’s gene-catalog. Not that it would have genes in the first place.
Not to mention, there was a reference to some form of commerce among androids. What currency did they use? Coins? Pearls? Beads?
“…Fascinating.” She states flatly, unintentionally so in a way that sounded sarcastic. Leaves leans forwards, now propping herself up with both of her arms. In response to the question asked, her eyes shut beneath her mask as the puppet thinks. “Resting is not necessary for us, but it is recommended. Slag builds in my neural strata during operation, and it is best ‘flushed out’ through periods of complete inactivity.”
Leaves’ eyes open again, a dull glow returning to the middle pair of her mask’s pinholes. “Of course, I can ‘rotate’ different substratas between the states for one-hundred percent uptime, but that means I cannot use them all at once. Not ideal for running very neural-intensive processes, unless you intend to faint!” She shakes her head sagely.
“Now, eating is entirely necessary. Drinking, too. While my organic tissue is highly efficient in recycling nutrients and minimizing waste, I still need to regularly consume enough to keep producing energy.” She explains, her head abruptly snapping downwards before springing back up. An accidental nod.
Leaves bends her head down once more to look at herself, albeit with a more intentional movement this time. “It is also needed to give my microbial network the raw elements to repair my inorganic components. Though it does not look like it, even my inanimate parts have living material interwoven on a normally minute and imperceptible level.”
“. . .Including the entirety of my supercomplex, inside and out. It ‘eats’ and ‘drinks’ in a far different manner from my puppet, however.”
Leaves stops herself there, fearing she might start running off on tangent without letting anything settle in. How often did the others poke her during calls to give them a chance to speak. How embarrassing to be reminded you ventured far off topic.
Not to mention, there was a reference to some form of commerce among androids. What currency did they use? Coins? Pearls? Beads?
“…Fascinating.” She states flatly, unintentionally so in a way that sounded sarcastic. Leaves leans forwards, now propping herself up with both of her arms. In response to the question asked, her eyes shut beneath her mask as the puppet thinks. “Resting is not necessary for us, but it is recommended. Slag builds in my neural strata during operation, and it is best ‘flushed out’ through periods of complete inactivity.”
Leaves’ eyes open again, a dull glow returning to the middle pair of her mask’s pinholes. “Of course, I can ‘rotate’ different substratas between the states for one-hundred percent uptime, but that means I cannot use them all at once. Not ideal for running very neural-intensive processes, unless you intend to faint!” She shakes her head sagely.
“Now, eating is entirely necessary. Drinking, too. While my organic tissue is highly efficient in recycling nutrients and minimizing waste, I still need to regularly consume enough to keep producing energy.” She explains, her head abruptly snapping downwards before springing back up. An accidental nod.
Leaves bends her head down once more to look at herself, albeit with a more intentional movement this time. “It is also needed to give my microbial network the raw elements to repair my inorganic components. Though it does not look like it, even my inanimate parts have living material interwoven on a normally minute and imperceptible level.”
“. . .Including the entirety of my supercomplex, inside and out. It ‘eats’ and ‘drinks’ in a far different manner from my puppet, however.”
Leaves stops herself there, fearing she might start running off on tangent without letting anything settle in. How often did the others poke her during calls to give them a chance to speak. How embarrassing to be reminded you ventured far off topic.
2B listened to Leaves go on, her jaw tight but her face otherwise remaining expressionless - what could be seen from under her blindfold anyway. In all honesty, she was prepared for an information dump. She just wasn't sure of how to process said information, especially where it concerned a 'supercomplex.' And it consumed sustenance, too. All in all, a horrifying piece of information for her. It made her limbs tense, even when bent. Her hands clenched uncomfortably hard.
"That's interesting," she fibbed. It was potentially apparent that she did. "I've never heard of something so. . . complex like that."
Maybe she should get out of here before she brings up what they eat. 2B was fighting the urge to not be impolite, but the fact was that Leaves was just another flavor of machine lifeform. She seemed docile enough, but everything she spoke about made 2B's anxiety burst into ignition. It was just too suspicious. Unnerving. Disturbing.
"Well." She was quick to get to her feet. "I have to check if my tactical support unit is fully charged." Pod 042 did not need charging. "I'll see you around?"
Maybe she would. Maybe Leaves would seem less frightening another time.
"That's interesting," she fibbed. It was potentially apparent that she did. "I've never heard of something so. . . complex like that."
Maybe she should get out of here before she brings up what they eat. 2B was fighting the urge to not be impolite, but the fact was that Leaves was just another flavor of machine lifeform. She seemed docile enough, but everything she spoke about made 2B's anxiety burst into ignition. It was just too suspicious. Unnerving. Disturbing.
"Well." She was quick to get to her feet. "I have to check if my tactical support unit is fully charged." Pod 042 did not need charging. "I'll see you around?"
Maybe she would. Maybe Leaves would seem less frightening another time.
Leaves finds herself unable to pick on up any clue about how 2B felt. To her, it seems like she was truly interested in what was being said. Who wouldn't? She just seems like the reserved sort, like herself. Nothing wrong with that.
Hearing 2B announcing her intent to leave, the puppet’s head snaps aside to look towards her. Nothing is assumed. The android has things to attend to, Leaves does not. All she has is herself and the bonfire. The machine allows a moment of quiet to pass before she speaks up.
“I will. . .” She stops to consider something. ‘Keep an ear in the open channel’ would not sound right, even if it was something she formally says at the end of most transmissions. “. . .see you around, Two Bees.” She awkwardly finishes, speaking 2B’s name in a way that seems. . . off.
Two Bees. Was that right? It sounds right to her. Close enough.
Now alone once again, the Great Processor turns her attention back to the flames dancing in front of her. For as long as she can keep basking in the warmth, Leaves would remain there.
Simply thinking and reflecting, observing the spiraling sparks rising from the coals.
Hearing 2B announcing her intent to leave, the puppet’s head snaps aside to look towards her. Nothing is assumed. The android has things to attend to, Leaves does not. All she has is herself and the bonfire. The machine allows a moment of quiet to pass before she speaks up.
“I will. . .” She stops to consider something. ‘Keep an ear in the open channel’ would not sound right, even if it was something she formally says at the end of most transmissions. “. . .see you around, Two Bees.” She awkwardly finishes, speaking 2B’s name in a way that seems. . . off.
Two Bees. Was that right? It sounds right to her. Close enough.
Now alone once again, the Great Processor turns her attention back to the flames dancing in front of her. For as long as she can keep basking in the warmth, Leaves would remain there.
Simply thinking and reflecting, observing the spiraling sparks rising from the coals.
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