I limp along for 7 days before something of note happens. I see movement upon the horizon. Ignoring my leg and likely worsening the damage, I charge towards the creature. I may not have been too slow, too weak in the end. Even if it is not human, I will protect and care for it. If it has survived, then maybe there is hope for the planet after all, maybe the-
It is just a plastic bag. Simply caught in the wind. How DARE it. I do everything I can and this indestructible clump of polymers comes to Mock Me?
Grinding it into the dirt underneath my more functional leg helps alleviate the intense feelings to a degree. The bag is not fully to blame, but just for a moment I let myself be foolish and pretend that it is.
This entire event has put massive strain on my damaged leg, I have no way of telling if it will be enough. If it is not then I will likely die, stranded and alone.
It has been a long, long time since I last saw another like me, or a living creature. I cannot hope for a replacement to any part of myself that I cannot maintain.
Perhaps I could find something to support the structural damage? I am still capable of limited movement.
I begin to shamble towards a shape in the distance. My speed is massively inhibited, as my left leg is operating at around 12% of its intended strength. As such it takes me 103 hours and 2 minutes to reach the shape on the horizon. A long dead giant of a tree looms over my metallic form. Its branches that remain are brittle and of little help. I collapse at the base of the tree. I could reach past the layers of frozen red sand and attempt to pull out a root. They must still be present, as the trunk is still standing. I could do that, attach the wood to my leg and be back to a sense of normality. I do not do that. Instead I stare up at the bleak grey sky and I stop to think.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
How long has it even been? A quick check of my internal clock reveals I have been “alive” for an inordinately long time. I was created on June 1st 2605. The current date is 19th of december 3070. My model was intended to function for a maximum of 200 years. Maybe during the first 200 years of my existence I had been alive. Searching through my long term memory, I desperately hope that something remains from that time.
1 file found
It is dated on my 180th birthday. Viewing it I am surprised to see it is some form of celebration. I see my own feet, both perfectly pristine, with a fresh coat of paint, stepping carefully across lush green grass. The audio is slightly distorted, but the image is clear. I carefully avoid a patch of white flowers, a man I recognise greets me and pulls me along. I know that he did not have the power to pull my body, and I must have followed willingly. I am led into a field (so, so green) and tied between to living trees is a banner, wishing me a happy birthday. I remember this event now. It had been so, so confusing at the time. I was built to serve. But they had insisted. I see so many people jump out from behind the trees. They come to join in the festivities. A deep scratchy noise distracts me from my viewing of the memory. I glance around warily before realising that the noise is rumbling out of my own chest. I hate this. In a shocking moment of clarity I realise that I don''t want to do this anymore, I hate carrying on going. I miss them
Viewing that was a mistake (it wasn’t) it has only served to demoralise me. I fervently search through my own mind, to see if there is a way to quieten my own brain, or to stop myself from feeling this way. I find nothing. Whoever produced me has clearly made a glaring design error.
Rage fuelling me more than the nuclear fission burning in my stomach I push past the dead earth to pull out a tree root. The wood will do; if it doesn''t then I will crawl. I refuse to live like this. I will complete my mission or die trying.