Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

White lights crashed down from the darkness above, penetrating the Earth with their pointed tails. Deafening growls reverberated through soaked wood. Smoke rose from burnt craters, fires given no chance of survival against the torrential downstorm. 

Humans retreated to their blankets and fireplaces. Baby birds sank underneath their mothers’ weight. Bees clung together along the honeyed walls of their colonies.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Uzi awoke to the steady, yet constant dripping of water onto the center of her visor. The liquid sky dribbled down the side of her silicone face, lazily falling to the ground below.

“Ugh…” Uzi grumbled, hesitantly rising from her makeshift bed. With two rusted fists, she rubbed her optical sensors awake.

“‘Tarp’s leaking again…” She complained to nobody in particular. A seam between the two hanging fabric strips above trickled with the clear liquid. 

She looked to her left, locking eyes onto her mother’s back. She was kneeled down next to her husband, tending to his wounds. A dark rag hung over her left shoulder. An empty can of WD-50 dangled from her opposite hand. 

Uzi twisted, trying to find a dryer position to sleep in, though the only success she found was in gaining her mother’s attention.

“Z…?” She called out, her voice low and gravelly. Bags sunk beneath her virtual eyes.

“Y-Yeah…?” Uzi returned.

“It’s early, honey. You should go back to sleep…”

Uzi checked her internal clock. Assuming the rain hadn’t already fried her memory, it was 2:06.

“I’m… not tired.” She lied, her legs creaking as her feet planted into the ground. “Is he, um… getting any better…?"

“He’s…” Nori looked back at the resting drone next to her. “...he’s been fine. Just… recovering.”

That didn’t really answer her question.

“This, uh, rain certainly doesn’t help, does it?” Nori tried to throw out some humor.

“Uhm… yeah. Not really…”

The short drone approached the two. Her dad laid asleep atop an actively-deflating air mattress. It was the best that they had available for him. The surrounding walls were lined with dirty mattresses, rags, ripped sofa cushions, almost each one occupied by a sleeping, recovering Worker Drone.

Khan had been caught out in a storm about a week or two ago, much like the one happening above their heads now. He was returning from his duties as a scrapper when the rain came down, and hadn’t bothered to bring any rain gear. He assured his family that he was fine, that he had done his best to avoid puddles and extra damages, and for a while he continued on like nothing happened.

Then the rust started to take form.

It grew around his joints, making his wrists and knees more brown than they typically were.

“I’ll be fine.” He said. “I’m just not as young as I used to be, heh! ‘Just a little bit’a rust.”

Now she stood, looking over her father’s rusted body. His screen displayed a flashing ‘SLEEP MODE’ text. His arms and legs were splotched with different shades of brown and orange. Any part of him that was once gray no longer was. He could hardly move on his own, and if they did not find any suitable replacement limbs soon, it wouldn’t be long before he’d become permanently immobile.

“Hey, well, um… since you’re up, why don’t you go to Lizzy’s? I think I saw her get up an hour ago… I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the intrusion. ‘Best to patch up these leaks as soon as possible, right?”

Uzi turned to her bed, eyeing the leak that woke her up. It was pretty noticeable now that she looked back on it.

“Uh… yeah… I guess…”

“Ponchos and umbrellas are on the front counter, hun’.” 

Uzi simply nodded in response, grabbing one of their old, sewn-together ponchos from the messy pile.

“And, uh, honey?” 

Uzi turned around, poncho halfway on.

“Stay safe out there, alright? I swear, if I need to work on both you and your father at the same time, I’ll kill you.” She spoke with a grin.

Uzi grinned back, rolling her eyes. 

“Whatever.”

She pulled the poncho over her small body and walked into the darkness outside.

A shower rained down against her hooded head. Her dirty boots clung to the muddied ground. Black trees and dimmed tents wrestled against the downpour.

A stray leaf blew into her visor, and she rubbed it off with a huff.

The bottoms of her boots imprinted their tracks in the mud, and she walked past the makeshift ‘Medical Tent’ sign that stood outside her home.

“Just gotta get to Lizzy’s… right, Lizzy’s…” 

A constant pattern of squeaks and slushes emitted from her as she walked against the invisible forces that made the trip hell. More signs, more tents. ‘Spares’, ‘Residential B’, ‘Supply’...

‘Clothing’...

Uzi sighed, reluctantly stepping into the tent.

She didn’t hate Lizzy. They had known each other since they were kids, and it wasn’t like having children was a super popular practice in their little shanty town. If someone hadn’t known better, they might have been mistaken for siblings with how strong their bond used to be. She was one of few people who treated her with kindness; genuine kindness, and in return, she was one of few people Uzi had ever truly opened up to.

A seamstress and a doctor. A somebody and a nobody. Pink and purple. She tried teaching Uzi how to sew on many occasions, never with any success, and even through her frustration and curses, Liz had always met her with a patient smile. She could turn a stained blanket into a wedding dress. She could turn a tarp into a tent.

…All she could do was lather some rust cleaner on a wound and call it a day.

Her blonde hair… her pink, neon lights… her red dress… yellow bow… 

They had been together for so long, but she just had to-...

“...Uzi? You good?”

Uzi frantically shook her head. “H-Huh? What? I-... oh.”

Her eyes turned to the green-eyed Worker Drone towering over her. One of his hands was placed on her shoulder. He wore an old, torn varsity jacket from who-knows-where, and his fractured helmet sat lopsided along the stringy, blonde nest.

How long had she been standing there for?!

“H-Hi… Thad…”

The drone gave her a smile, only lightly laced with concern. “Hey, uh, Uzi… it’s kinda late, what’re you doing here?”

“Uhm… just…”

Her face became flushed with purple.

“...looking for your sister…” She admitted.

“...Oh!” He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Uzi’s tongue clicked and she pulled his arm from her shoulder. “Not because of that! Just-... ugh! There’s a leak in the medical tent that needs to be fixed, okay?! That’s all! Now stop pressing me!”

“Woah, hey, take it easy, Uz! Nobody’s pressing anything here!”

“Yes you are!”

“Dude. I don’t care that you want to get back with my s- OW!” The male Worker Drone was interrupted by the handle of a wrench being tapped against the top of his head.

“BITE ME! That’s not why I’m here and you know it! Now, are you gonna fix up my stupid tent or not?!”

“Jeez, alright, alright… let me get my kit and see what I can do…”

Uzi sighed in relief, stashing the wrench onto the toolbelt beneath her poncho.

Thad bent over a pile of fabrics and twine, burying his hands in search of something.

“All I’m gonna say is-”

“Thaaaaaaad…”

“...All I’m gonna say is it’s a bit funny you’d ask specifically for her when I’m just as capable as she is when it comes to- AY!”

A dirty rag was thrown onto the back of his head.

“If you so much as even bring this up when we’re back there, I’ll amputate your left arm!” She yelled, exiting the tent and back into the floodgates.

“Oooookay, Uz… whatever you say…” He huffed, playfully rolling his eyes.

It didn’t take long for the drone to eventually pull his basket of tools from the bowels of fabrics, slip a poncho on, and start towards the female Worker Drone.

“Aaaalright… aaaaand…”

He cut a stitched piece of twine with a pair of rusty hair shears. 

“Good as new! …Hopefully…”

Thad stood proud, looking at the stitch in the ceiling with his fists against his waist. Uzi remained silent, sitting on a stool nearby with her arms folded. 

Nori cleaned her throat.

“Ahem… Uzi, honey, what do we say?”

Uzi huffed.

“...Thanks, I guess…”

Nori smiled, finally standing away from Khan. She fiddled with a pocket in her jeans, before pulling out a small handful of buttons, coins, bottle caps, and other small, circular objects. 

“Sorry for all the trouble, we don’t really have much right now…” Nori apologized.

Thad looked at the drone’s offerings and waved them away with a smile. “No need, Mrs. Doorman.”

“Are you sure, honey? I-I insist…”

“We’re quite alright right now, but thank you for the offer.”

“It’s pretty late, honey, I just felt kinda… bad for sending Uzi over at such a late hour…”

“Like I said, it’s all cool. ‘Least I could do for you guys, right?” He chuckled.

A silence broke out between the three, only occasionally interrupted by the snoring of voice boxes or the creaking of joints.

“...Uhh… Well…! I suppose I’ll be going now…”

Thad grabbed his basket of sewing instruments and headed for the exit.

“Stay dry out there, honey!” Nori waved, returning to the spot next to her husband.

“Sure can do, Mrs. Doorman… Oh! Uh… hey Lizzy! Whatcha got there-... oh.”

Uzi’s head whipped around to face the front entrance.

In the entryway stood the late teenager, though her typically-cheery demeanor was completely absent. Instead, she stood, a neutral expression on her face with eyes devoid of any light. The poncho around her body and head dripped and her blonde, dirty hair clung to the sides of her face.

In her arms sat a completely nude drone carried in a bridal position. A hefty gash implanted itself over the right side of its face. A chunk of its visor was missing, showing off the damaged optical sensor and other robotics inside. Its mouth was pursed, and its remaining orange eye danced around, panickedly looking over everything in the room. A hand clung onto one of Lizzy’s arms, practically squeezing it to death. The other curled awkwardly in its lap.

Uzi was used to scrappers returning home, sometimes bringing back drones they had recovered from the landfill…

…but LIzzy wasn’t a scrapper. She had been one of the town seamstresses for her entire life…

As Uzi’s mind swirled with questions and confusion, the recovered drone’s eye locked onto her own. For a moment, she could’ve sworn a small smile creeped onto its face.

“Uzi, honey? Drone? Help it?” Nori called out.

“U-Uh… right, right… um…”

She slid from the stool and meekly made her way over to the recovered drone… and the one that held it.

“U-uh… are you alright? Do you need help?” She stammered.

The drone continued to stare at her. She tried looking at the face of its holder for any guidance, once again only met with a dark, eyeless visage.

“...Uh… you… uh… hurt, at all, or…?”

The drone said nothing.

“...You, like, got a name…?”

“Doll.” Lizzy answered, not moving. All the while, her visor remained completely black.

“Big brother?”

Cynthia squirmed in his grasp, eventually freeing up a hand that thudded against his visor.

“Taps. Big brother…”

Nathan snorted, lightly raising his head. His eyes brightened, replacing the ‘SLEEP MODE’ text that had practically burned itself into his screen.

“Mmm… yeah? What is it, little buddy…?”

“My head feels bad…”

Nathan sat up, scooping up his younger sister and sitting her in his lap. He rubbed one of his eyes, mouth yawning.

“Bad how?”

“Hurts…”

He chuckled a little bit.

“Yeah… not sleeping in a bed for once kinda sucks, huh?”

“No. The inside.”

“...It just sounds like a little headache. One of the not-so-fun things about being programmed in the human’s image…”

“...Just a headache…?”

“Just a headache. Sorry, buddy.”

Cynthia pouted a little, causing her brother to hug her tighter and ruffle her hair.

“Why don’t you just try sleeping it off? That usually helps me.”

“Slight head tilt. Sleep it… off?” She responded, tilting her head to the side.

“Mhm…” Nathan confirmed, already drifting back into sleep mode. “Just sleep it off…”

“Sleep it… off…” She repeated.

Silence fell between the two, the eldest only occasionally breaking the silence with a few snores. Cynthia hugged onto his body tighter, as if to try and take her mind off of the strange feeling inside her.

“...Big brother, I-...” Cynthia began to speak, only to look up at her brother’s face and see it had been replaced with that ‘SLEEP MODE’ text once again.

“Realization. Whispering. Sigh.” She self-narrated.

“Just… sleep it… off…”

Cynthia stared wide-eyed at the ceiling of the trailer (at least, she assumed it was the ceiling. It was hard to tell if the trailer was even upright in the first place, especially against the years of erosion and ice that deteriorated it). Icicles above reflected the white-yellow eyes of the drone. 

“Adjust… adjust…”

She shifted and squirmed in his grip, trying to find a position she felt comfortable to sleep in. The ever-blowing wind and snow berating against the structure should’ve acted like white noise to her, yet it only succeeded in overwhelming her aural sensors. 

A sigh escaped her lips.

…Perhaps she just needed a small break. Something she could do to pass the time and tire herself out.

She didn’t have too many games downloaded to her system; Her parents rarely ever bought any, and her brother was unable to afford such things.

“Idea…” She spoke aloud to herself in a whisper.

Her body slowly slinked its way out from her brother’s grip to avoid any sudden movements. She didn’t need to send him waking up once more. Shoes clanked lazily against the frozen floor, hardly emitting any sound. She winced at the occasional scrape that came from the bottom of her boots, but nothing seemed to disturb her brother’s slumber.

The door of the trailer creaked open, a small layer of frost cracking on the outside.

“Sneaking. I will only be outside for a little bit, big brother.”

She planted herself on the outside snow, guiding the door back to its resting position, severing herself from safety. 

Getting a whiff of the fresh toxic air oddly seemed to clear her head, even if by only a small amount. Maybe it was the simple change of scenery, not being in a loud, reverberating tin can for the night. Or maybe it was simply the constant pounding of snowflakes and sleet against her head that canceled out the pounding of her headache. 

It didn’t matter much to her, and she didn’t waste time pondering it. She was too busy focusing on something else, anyway.

Shortly after introducing herself to the outside world once again, a strange noise reached her. Its reverb made it difficult to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from, given how easily noise echoed through the abandoned city, but it sounded close regardless. 

At first she had brushed it off, likely the sound of an old tree branch or road sign scraping against another; A constant, repetitive pattern of quiet, raspy noise.

The ever-curious drone wandered with uneven steps towards the opposite end of the snowbank she and her brother had taken residence in. Her hands, as always, laid limp. They dangled in front of her chest, flopping up and down with every slight movement. A polite smile remained across her face, and her eyebrows remained straight.

The source of the sound was now apparent.

Another drone sat along the snowbank’s side. It sat, a hand pushing against its face and knees brought close to its torso. Its ragged clothing fruitlessly clung to the drone’s body, quite literally hanging on by threads. Its hair was mostly black, dripping with oil and hardening in place, though small bits of purple peaked their heads through the dark mess. Its torso was significantly damaged; the plastic shell looked like a spiderweb, and its endoskeleton was clearly visible through some of the cracks. 

Cynthia took a step forward, and despite her efforts to remain silent, the crunching of snow beneath her boots perked the drone’s head.

It looked over at her, one eyebrow lowered more than the other. The eyes they accompanied were wet, puffy (even though they were, y’know, virtual?).

Cynthia remained still, looking at her with her usual jolly demeanor.

“...What do you want?” The drone asked her, its voice low and nasally. 

“Head tilt. Nothing.”

The two remained still, eyes locked onto eachother’s. 

Cynthia was the first to break the rules of the game, taking a few confident steps towards the drone. It only side-eyed her in return. 

“Step. Can I… sit?” She asked.

“...Why?”

The Worker Drone pondered its question.

“Slight tilt. You are damaged. What happened?” She ignored its question, her head tilting to inspect the drone’s body from a closer angle.

“...’The hell do you care for?” It snapped.

Despite never having answered her original inquiry, she sat anyway, mumbling a quick ‘Criss-cross applesauce’ to herself.

“I am just curious.”

“Well, I’m not just gonna tell a random stranger.”

“Ah. That is okay.”

The drone raised another eyebrow at her, seemingly not expecting that response.

“Fidget. Sometimes big brother does the same thing.” She spoke, fiddling with the laces of one of her boots.

“...’Big brother’?”

“He doesn’t answer my questions sometimes. I think it is because he is hurting.”

“...Okay?”

“Like you. Are you… hurting?” 

The drone opened its mouth, but an answer never escaped through. It looked away from her and sighed. It couldn’t stay mad at this little kid for just being curious.

“...In what way?” It stalled.

“Place. In here.” Cynthia spoke, covering the spot on her chest where a human’s heart would’ve been located. “Or in here. Point.” She pointed to the side of her head with an index finger.

The drone pulled its knees in tighter, assuming the shape of a ball even more so than before. 

“I dunno…”

Cynthia placed a hand on one of the drone’s kneecaps, causing it to flinch a little at the sudden touch.

“I am here. For you.”

The drone let out yet another sigh, this time taking on a more annoyed tone as it spoke.

“‘You know that I was made to kill people like you, right? Why are you here? Why are you just… talking to me? It-... It doesn’t make sense!”

“Head tilt. You’re a Disassembly Drone?”

The drone stared at her, its eyelids half-closed. 

“Sheepish look. I am sorry. It is… hard. For me to notice certain things. Sometimes.”

Cynthia looked away from the Disassembly Drone, awkwardly touching the side of her face. 

The wind continued to howl. The Worker Drone stared away from the Disassembly variant.

“I. Have always been. A little. Different. From the other ones.”

The Disassembly Drone continued to stare at her.

“I have been told I am different. A lot. By other kids and adults. I do not understand it. People are weird and confusing, and they talk to me differently than how they talk to others. I do not know why.”

The Disassembly Drone moved its head slightly, as if expecting the drone to speak more.

“...Go on…?”

“Hum?”

“...You-... You sorta, like… trailed off there.”

“No. That is it.”

“...Um… Okay…”

“I understand being confused.”

“I-... I’m not-...” The Disassembly Drone tried to protest, but had to stop itself. It didn’t want to lie. “I…”

Cynthia stared at it, waiting for it to speak.

“...I don’t know… I guess… I-I… I just… don’t… really know anymore…”

The Worker Drone tilted her head.

“I just… haven’t really… felt… anything. I feel… I don’t know… empty. I feel nothing…”

“...Why?” Cynthia pushed.

“...I don’t know… I-It’s just, like…” The Disassembly Drone sighed, stretching out one of its legs, which spat out a few sparks with the sudden movement. “I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline from what just happened talking, but… every day feels like the same thing. Get up, deal with Worker Drones, eat, sleep… I haven’t done anything new in such a long time–Not that I necessarily even want anything ‘new’ to happen, but-... I don’t know, nothing interests me anymore…”

“...My dad, he, like… he’s been really… pushy… about our work. He’s been snapping at me way more than usual, and of course, the one time that I get pissed off enough to actually do something about it and to prove him wrong, I get my fucking arm ripped off and almost die from some… freaky robot thing that took over my own mom’s body!”

The Disassembly Drone shook its head, its vents sputtering and struggling to keep up.

“...Just… I don’t know… I… I don’t, like… …I don’t want to die, but… I feel like I’m running out of… reasons to keep on going…”

Cynthia frowned.

“I don’t know what to do anymore… I just want to live out my life in the way I want to. …I don’t want to be expected to do these things every day. I don’t, like, want to disappoint people, ‘cause I already know what happens whenever I do, but I don’t know what I can do besides…” The drone looked at the cracked outer casing around its wrist, grimacing at the memory.

“...’Like protesting’s got me anywhere in the past…” The drone sighed.

“...It’s all I want, but I’m not given that opportunity… a-and when I’m not able to simply just… live how I want to live… what’s the point? What’s the point… to keep moving on…?”

The Worker Drone slunk upward from its seated position, clambering towards the broken drone until she was directly next to it. She fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around it in a weak hug. The drone let out a meek, defeated chuckle in response.

“Pft… God, look at me… venting about my life problems to a literal child… I’m so pathetic…”

“Not paff… pathef… pathetic…” Cynthia stuttered. “Just hurting.”

The Disassembly Drone waved her hug away with its arm, turning its face towards the drone. Her black-stained hair covered half of her face, blowing with the cold eternal winter’s air.

“...Where are your parents, anyway?”

“Hum?”

“Your parents. Or, like, your guardians, or whatever, where are they? You shouldn’t… be around people like me...”

“Oh! They’re away right now.”

“...Away…?”

“They’re on a trip! Like me and big brother!”

“...Right…”

“Frown. I haven’t seen them in a while. I hope I get to soon.”

“I’m sure you will… but really, though: it’s dangerous out here.”

The Disassembly Drone pinched the bridge of its nonexistent nose, muttering to itself. “ I can’t believe I’m worried about the safety of one of these fuckin’ things… Don’t you have, like, a bunker you live in, or something?”

“Yeah! But we’re on a trip right now!”

“...You and your brother.”

“Yeah!”

“’Kay… uh… do you know where he is?”

“He is sleeping right now.” She spoke, beaming.

“...’Kay…”

“Realization. Oh! By the way, what is your name?”

“...Huh?”

“Your name!”

“...Well, uh… what’s yours?”

“Cynthia!” She sang. “And you?”

The Disassembly Drone looked away, covering its mouth.

“...What’s wrong?” Cynthia introjected.

“...I, like… don’t technically have one, I guess… I mean, like, I do, but it’s just, like, a letter…”

It remained silent, expecting the hyper child to pipe in with another question. When she didn’t, the drone sighed, bending over a little.

“It’s, uh… Z… Serial Designation Z…”

“Z!” Cynthia chanted. “That’s a cool name!”

“It’s… not… really…”

“But it is!”

“Okay, well, I’m not gonna argue with a child, so-”

“Cynthia?!”

The two drones froze.

“C-Cynthia?! Where’d you go?! Cynthia!” A panicked voice cried out from behind the snowbank.

“Oh! That’s my brother!” Cynthia chirped.

“Uh… he sounds… kinda worried…” Z mentioned as they both stood.

“I’ll go get him!” She sang, trotting away from the Disassembly Drone.

“Cynthia!” Nathan yelled, hands cupped around the edges of his mouth. His voice was shaky and strained.

“ Oh God, oh God, what have I done?! ” He muttered, scrunching up some hair with a free hand. “ Where did she go?! ”

His right boot sent a small collection of snow flying.

“ D-Dang it…! Ough… First… yesterday… now this?! Ough… Where are y- ”

“I’m here!”

Nathan whipped around to see the small drone skipping towards him from behind the pile of snow. As soon as his optical sensors scanned the robot, his legs dashed forward to her. She gave a small yelp as the older sibling gave her a crushing hug.

“Oh thank goodness! Cyn, I thought-... Oh man…”

The drone continued to stare at him innocently, not understanding the weight of the situation.

“D-Don’t do that!” He spoke, pulling away and wagging a finger in her face. “Wh-While we’re out here, I never want you to leave my side, alright? You-... I’m just glad you’re alright…”

Cynthia continued to stare through him, not understanding the implications of his words.

“Y-You are okay, right? You haven’t been hurt, or anything?”

Like a concerned parent, he immediately started twisting and inspecting each of her limbs for even the tiniest of scratches. Cynthia batted his hands away, slightly annoyed.

“I’m okay, big brother!”

“I-I… Okay, okay… W-Why are you, um, out here, exactly…?”

“Thinking. Oh! My head was hurting, but going outside made it feel better!”

The older sibling raised an eyebrow, but immediately shook the confusion away. He knew he wouldn’t get far trying to explain that the air outside was just as toxic as the air inside, and that no change in environment would have improved her headache. Though, it did put into question: If this was the case and she wasn’t lying, why would her headache have gone away from simply just… walking outside…?

“Excited! I also made a new friend!”

“Uh-... wait- uh-... You… You did?”

“Yeah! Come look! Come look!” Cynthia grabbed him by the hand, eagerly pulling him to the backside of the snow pile.

“I-... Uh… Okay…?”

The two drones made their way to the aforementioned location, one much more eager, the other rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Upon reaching their destination, the shorter drone looked around, confused. A small dent in the snow was all that laid there.

“Looks. Looks. Where is she?”

“...She…?”

“She was here just a minute ago! I don’t understand…”

Nathan let out a sigh.

“Cyn, it’s still early… you’re probably not fully charged, come on-”

“Oh! There, there!”

Cynthia skidded away from her brother, following a trail of messy, circular dents in the snow and the occasional splosh of oil.

Nathan sighed. As much as his legs didn’t feel up to the task, he knew better than to deny his sister’s pursuits. Plus, it’s not like he had any plans for the day.

Reluctantly, the drone moped onwards towards his ever-active sister, keeping a watchful eye on the twin-tailed Worker Drone.

…Not before he picked up their things, though.

Z’s mind was plagued with a multitude of different feelings, yet none was more prominent than sheer confusion.

There was no reason she didn’t just kill the two then and there. No discernible reason, anyway. During the whole ordeal everything within her screamed, beckoned for the warm, sweet, black elixir of life that swirled within that drone’s systems.

And yet, despite it all, there was something about it that she couldn’t help but find familiar in herself. Obviously, she wasn’t going to outright admit this fact–even just thinking about it made her feel strange–but those thoughts permeated her logic processors nevertheless. 

A “trip” the small one had said.

It was just a little kid. There was no way their parents would have let them outside for a “trip”. 

…Though, she did say her brother was there…

Get it together, stupid. They obviously weren’t on a “trip”. Besides, this information was specifically garnered from her, a mere child. How trustworthy can something like that even be?

That’s a little rude… Children are people too…

But can its words be taken as definite fact? Even if we were to humor the idea that their parents DID let them go on a “trip”, outside, in this frozen shithole of half ‘a planet, why the hell would a parent approve of that idea if they, presumably, were fully aware of the dangers that existed out here?!

Are the semantics of this child’s vocabulary really that deep? Let’s be real here: It was probably old she, and whoever else she said she was with were “going on a trip” or something of that nature as an excuse to go outside!

Then why the hell would any right-minded Worker go outside if they KNOW for a fact that going outside is a death sentence?! Hm?

…It’s a good question.

I’m so tired…

Maybe they’re just stupid, like all of the others.

I actually believe that the things the child said, or at least intended to say, were quite wise.

There’s no way in hell that you’re calling this five-year-old’s blabbering mouth “wise”.

She knew we were hurting, though!

We are NOT hurting.

I’m exhausted…

We are!

We are not.

You just don’t like to admit these things because of how stubborn you are!

I don’t like to make untruthful statements. That’s what I don’t like to do.

Yeah? And, what? Losing a limb and having half your body compressed together and dented inward isn’t hurting?

Physically, sure. Is it really necessary to relay this known information onto us for… let’s see here… maybe, like, the 28th time?

We may be physically hurting, but you all know that we are also hurting deeper below.

We are not. That’s weak man’s talk. We are not weak.

Then what are we?

We are tough. We are resilient. We are top of the food chain. We survived that excursion with our “mother”.

Barely! We’re still limping all over the damned place because of it!

You’ve spoken too much today.

I haven’t spoken ENOUGH today!

Singing a child’s praises on their therapeutic expertise, now saying that we aren’t weak. Has insanity really claimed you already? I expected more.

You know damn well those words needed to be expelled from within us!

No, we do not.

Yes you do! I felt it, and so did you!

You are only satisfied because of the small window you were given to present what you believe to be your “true nature” to this world, not because of its effect on us or anybody else. You are weak, and you speak of nonsense that is, ultimately, untrue. We do not “feel”, and in the event that, somehow, we do, we do not demonstrate such moments to those around us. It makes us look weak and vulnerable. You know this to be true, you just refuse to admit it.

…

Let the mature ones take over. The times for playing with children are over.

…

…Was there ever a time where we did such things…?

…

…My mind… It’s… so foggy… I can’t remember anything from before this… this all started…

…

…Hello…?

Cynthia’s red, shiny boots clicked happily along the icy floor with every skip taken. Her two braids swung from side to side in a rhythmic pattern, swinging from left to right like those many old human dance moves. The enlarged, white bow stayed patiently affixed to the back of her head, regardless of how ferociously her body moved. The young drone hummed happily to itself, reciting the melodies of ancient human chants broadcasted to still-functioning radios.

Nathan huffed, wiping away the sweat that beaded down the side of his face. His helmet flopped lazily from side to side, the needy thing beckoning for adjustment so frequent that the drone eventually decided it would be easier to just carry it under one arm. With every movement, he could feel the joints in his arms and legs degrade more and more, which was concerning considering how young he was.

He smiled to himself, thinking about the times his parents would complain about the same things.

With mom, it was always her back joints. The way she’d groan and struggle to play with him every time she needed to pick up a toy car from the floor or a pencil from a too-far-away coffee table. With dad, it felt like everything else. His arm joints were stiffened, likely due to the strenuous work he did around the colony. He could still remember his dad’s unique tell; his leg joints that squeaked and groaned every time he moved anywhere. He could always tell who was outside his door by the way their steps sounded.

…He missed living amongst those sounds; a signature that made his home feel so much more alive, more lived in. Every time he heard another Worker Drone pass by with squeaking, ungreased joints, his head always inevitably perked up in some way. And just like how it always perked up, it slowly fell as the memories replayed in his system. 

Though, despite the harsh realities he was forced to remember each and every day, he still found reasons to smile.

“Big brother!” Cynthia’s voice sang from a few feet in front of him.

“Yes?” Nathan answered in a similar sing-songy voice. 

“I think we are getting close this time!”

Right. That.

“Are we now?” He questioned, not trying to break kayfabe. His sister hummed. “...And you’re not just saying this like you have for the past… five times now?” She hummed once more.

He wasn’t exactly sure what the little drone had seen this morning. It was likely another Worker Drone, given the circumstances, though the uniquely-sized footprints hinted at anything but that.

By this point, most of the footprints had been buried in the passing snowfall. It didn’t stop his sister from exploring the human’s abandoned monoliths, though. She walked with a purpose, and Nathan wasn’t exactly sure what that purpose was. Any time he asked, she simply stated that she knew where she was going. Seeing no harm in letting her go off during the daytime, he didn’t stop her.

The possibility of coming across a rogue out here was minute, at least in Nathan’s thought process. He had only ever rarely heard stories of drones from the colony interacting with the lonely citizens of the above-world. Of all the few stories, only a fraction of them involved any aggressive parties. 

Though, thinking about it more, there may have been more than one reason as to why there were so few drones returning with stories of rogues in the first place…

‘ I guess we’re one of those guys now…’ He thought to himself. 

He wasn’t completely opposed to the idea. What mostly concerned him was the fact that he had little to no experience surviving outside like this, though he assumed most rogues also went through the same process at one point or another.

His main concern was finding an adequate source of supplies and satiation…

“Big brother!” Cynthia called out.

“Yeah?” Nathan replied.

“I think we’re getting closer!”

“...Good work, Cyn!” He called ahead. He was running out of responses to the ‘I think we’re getting close’ bit.

“Thank you!” She sang, dragging out the vowels.

He had packed some supplies. Not a great amount, given the way they rushed out of the colony so last-minute, but it was an amount no less. Most, unfortunately, were just material things or clothing–nothing that could be eaten or cooked up. He had brought a few chargers with him, though strangely he hadn’t felt the need to recharge in a while, which he was thankful for; finding a working outlet, hell, a source of electricity out here sounds like it would be hell.

It seemed his sister was feeling the same way, too. She hadn’t complained about any hunger or a lack of charge yet. Regardless, finding a renewable source of electricity was definitely on the top of his to-do list, only beaten by finding some secure shelter–

“ N-No! No please! Nooo-! ” A voice cried out, not too far from the duo.

Nathan stopped, holding onto his backpack straps tightly. 

“Cynthia…?” He called out.

His sister hummed, not stopping her trek.

“H-Hey! Psst! Cynthia!” Nathan gained her attention once more.

“Turn. Annoyed look. Yes?” She turned, stopping as well.

“I… uh…” He thought about his word choice carefully. “...I’m not too sure if the street ahead is a very, um, friendly place that we’ll want to go visit right now…”

“Slight head tilt. Why is that?” She hobbled towards him.

“...Did you not just hear, uh… that?”

“Hear what?”

“There was-... um… like… someone, uh…” He fumbled over his words, eventually opting to just grab her by the hand and walk in the opposite direction instead. “L-Let’s just come back to this street another time, yeah?”

“Annoyed. What? Why?” Cynthia spoke, nearly tripping with the newly-added speed.

“I-I just, y’know, sorta got, um… a bad feeling about it.”

The Worker Drone slipped her tiny wrist from her brother’s grasp, taking a few steps back.

“Protest. I am not leaving!”

“Leaving what?” Nathan sighed, turning to face her.

“...Her.” She responded, looking sheepishly to the ground.

“Okay, well, I don’t know who ‘she’ is, but I can assure you, she’ll be fine if we wait until tomorrow to see her .” He shut her down, attempting to grab at the smaller drone once more. Cynthia dodged all of his attempts, skipping backwards to avoid the drone’s clutches.

“N-No!”

“Cyn! Why are you being so difficult? It’s dangerous!” He reasoned.

“It’s not!”

“How do you know that?”

Cynthia didn’t reply, instead breaking out into a sprint in the scream’s direction.

“Wha- H-HEY! CYN! STOP!” Nathan yelled, booking it towards his actively-fleeing sister.

She did not, in fact, stop. Her small legs practically flew over the snow and ice and abandoned city streets at a speed her older brother hadn’t even known possible.

Nathan trailed behind, trying to keep up with her pace. His backpack bounced wildly. The helmet under his arms slipped away, but he didn’t care to stop and recover it. 

“Cyn! Cyn, please! Come over here!” Nathan yelled ahead.

“No!” Cynthia’s voice echoed back.

“Please, Cyn! I’m just trying to keep you safe!” 

She didn’t respond, opting to continue her silent pursuit towards… whatever it was she was pursuing. 

The two made their way to what could’ve only been some kind of park or garden at one point, judging by the number of dead, frozen trees and other used-to-be-green greenery that poked its heads out of the thick, white blanket. 

“Cyn, stop!” Nathan pleaded, his voice growing more helpless by the minute.

This time, she seemed to obey his command, though he wasn’t sure if it was because she made it to wherever she wanted to go, or because she was actually listening to him.

She stood, frozen, staring out at a half-collapsed billboard.

Her older brother finally reached her, his vents desperately sucking all of the air they could from the surrounding atmosphere. He took a moment to pant, resting his hands on his knees.

“S-Seriously, Cyn…! It’s… It’s dangerous out here…! You… oh man … you really need to… start listening to me… okay?”

She simply stood still, not reacting to the words he spoke.

“I-I’m only… I’m only doing these things because… I’m trying to keep you safe, alright? …I-It’s not that I don’t trust you, or anything like that… b-but it’s kinda hard to when you’re not communicating with me, alright…?”

One of her hands curled slightly.

“O-Okay…? I-I am really not trying to… I don’t know, annoy you, or anything like that. I just… you can’t go wandering off. It’s not safe out here…”

One of her boots turned a few degrees.

“...What are you even-...” He began to question, only to get cut off when he made eye contact with it.

Z wiped the oil that dribbled from her chin. Her internal cooling temperatures dropped significantly, and repair nanites worked their magic through her system.

“Ugh…” Z groaned, looking on the ground beyond her two bent knees. A group of maybe three Worker Drone corpses laid, fresh [FATAL ERROR] prompts flickering on their screens. She couldn’t remember the past hour or so of her life, though she was used to it at this point. The autorun program within her likely activated once her systems deemed she had a dangerously-low enough level of oil in her system. 

For the damages wrought to her, three Worker Drones didn’t seem like enough to fully refill her tanks, but she didn’t question it. What she did question, however, was her location. Where the hell was she?

An old park, it seemed, judging by the leafless trees that surrounded her. A half-collapsed billboard hung over her head, an extinguished campfire not too far from her feet.

All around her small shelter, the sun’s deadly light beamed down.

Great. She’d need to wait until sundown to be able to go anywhere.

Whatever. It’s not like she’d be needed anywhere, anyway…

She watched the glowing nanites move from her neck downward, bending parts of her body back into shape and patching up the cracks. As the nanites pushed and pulled her endoskeleton back into place, she couldn’t help but let out a groan until the pain subsided.

A few errors appeared on her visor, detecting traces of foreign matter in her systems. Confused, she looked down at herself.

Bullet holes. That was new.

She dug her fingers into a small, circular wound on the side of her torso. Her jaw clenched. Her tongue stiffened. A few growels escaped her voicebox until she succeeded in pulling out the small projectile stained black with her oil.

She flicked it away like a human would a nail clipping, looking around for any more holes that pierced her body.

Starvation never worked. She knew it well. They had autorun programs to prevent that. In fact, most of her other attempts hadn’t worked either. It was like something within her didn’t want her to die, like she needed to stay alive for one reason or another. Of course, that reason was killing Worker Drones, but the point still stood.

Of course, the ‘something’ within her were these autorun programs, but she thought of it in a more hyperbolic sense. She didn’t believe in any kind of deity or higher power, but whatever created them also designed these failsafes in the case these circumstances or decisions came to fruition.

It was their parent company. JCJenson In Spaaaaace!!!!. The fact that they would create and design this sentient AI with implementations specifically tasked to prevent them from killing themselves felt… odd. It was weird that they had to account for these problems in the first place. You’d think they’d program their AI so that it can’t get depressed, but no.

Z rolled her eyes. She was getting tripped up in her own thoughts again.

Thankfully, most of the oil staining her casing was cleaned off. She could actually make out the black and white caution patterns on her body, and her whites looked whiter than ever; though, there were still a number of bullet holes that couldn’t regenerate until the bullets were removed. The nanites themselves were working on her hoodie now, stitching it back together and conjuring more cotton from thin air. She didn’t even want to begin questioning how it was possible.

Though, there was something that sparked a hint of concern within her.

Her legs looked fine, just as they had before she entered that colony.

Her torso was no longer bent out of shape, and her spine was as straight as it had ever been. Just a few bullet holes spotted along her side.

Her hoodie was materializing back into existence, and yet…

…Her left arm was still just a naked, exposed ball joint. 

“Uh… hello…?” She called out to nobody in particular.

Her head turned. She wouldn’t be as concerned as she was right now if she didn’t know that it was typically clothes that were regenerated last, not limbs.

“Why isn’t…? Where…?” Her voicebox stuttered. “Regenerate! Come on!”

She flailed around the ball joint, waggling it as if she could shake the repair nanites into it. Of course, it was no use.

“Great. Great! Now I just-... don’t have one of my fucking arms! Are you-... I-... AUGH!” She let out a hoarse growl, kicking one of the billboard’s support beams out of frustration.

“WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! WHY IS THIS MY LIFE?! WHY CAN’T ANYTHING GOOD EVER FUCKING HAPPEN TO ME?! GOD!”

Her hand retracted, replaced with the front half of some kind of handgun. She didn’t know which, nor did she give a shit. She sighed.

“No, no… There’s no fucking point… They’ll just make another fucking clone… Then I’ll have to do all of the modding over again and get an earful by whoever-the-fuck… fucking whatever-”

She cut herself off, noticing the two pairs of eyes that stared on at her from only a short distance away. The weapon quickly retreated back into her arm, replacing itself with her hand yet again.

“What are you looking at-”

The Disassembly Drone’s words were cut off when she felt a presence wrapping itself around her body’s lower half. The small Worker Drone wrapped its arms around as much of her body as she could at her height, and pressed her head against her side.

“Giggle. Z! I missed you!” She sang, only slightly muffled through the drone’s hoodie.

Z remained motionless, mostly just confused and not knowing what to do given the current conditions.

“Uh… Hi?” She attempted to greet her.

“Hiii!” Cynthia responded in her usual sing-songy demeanor. 

“Um… What are you… doing here?” She asked, trying to get the small drone off of her.

“Seeing you, silly!”

“...Okay?” She spoke, now finally succeeding in pushing the little girl from her. “Do you, want… anything, or…?”

“To see you!” Cynthia answered, almost like she had the response memorized.

“...O…kay… um… well… you’ve-... you’ve seen me, so…”

“Hug. You’re so silly!” Cynthia sang again, re-hugging her. 

Z huffed. “Please do not touch me…”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I don’t… like it!”

“Why?”

Z gave a grumble of defeat, hunching back slightly. Her eyes rolled and looked around for any kind of way out of the current situation, stopping on another, much taller Worker Drone not too far away.

“Um… Hey. Dude. Could you, like, get your child off of me?”

Was she talking to him?!

It had no feet, legs replaced with pegs of a mismatched color. Its arms were wider than his own, wrapped in a cone-shaped plating foreign to Worker Drones. Its eyes were yellow, just like the complimenting lights atop its head.

Everything in his bones wanted to yell. To scream. To nervously persuade his little sister into stepping away from the drone. Everything in him shrieked in horror, crying, hollering. His fingers trembled, and his legs wobbled like two wads of string cheese. 

Yet, everything remained perfectly still. He couldn’t find the energy to move, to speak, to do anything.

“...Dude? Hello?” It spoke, its mouth hanging slightly open.

Those were fangs. Most definitely fangs. And saliva. Worker Drones didn’t have that. They didn’t have either of those things, and there his sister was, hugging it. Touching it. Feeling it.

He wanted to faint. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to do an unending multitude of different things.

His internal processors ran at dangerous speeds. His cooling system and vents were working unpaid overtime. Every sensor in his body was off the fritz.

Before he even realized what was happening, his legs buckled, his body crumpled, and everything went black.

“Oh, okay.” Z spoke in an inappropriately casual manner. “Yo. Who’s that?” She looked down at the small pair of eyes below, her hand pointing to the passed-out drone’s direction. Cynthia’s head perked up.

“Oh! That’s my big brother!” She chirped. “I think he is taking a nap.”

“I… No…? I’m pretty sure he just fainted or something…”

“He’s so silly!”

“...What?”

“He’s silly!”

“He’s passed out.”

“So silly…” Cynthia hummed, approaching her fainted sibling and tapping him on the head. “Tap, tap. Wake up, silly!”

Z’s lips curled into a small smirk, and a small vent of air escaped her nonexistent nose. Shortly after the drone was tapped on the head, he sat himself up from the ground, head spinning slightly.

“Ah… oh, uh… Cyn…? Wh-What did… What happened…?” He groaned, placing a hand over one of his temples.

“You fell asleep, silly!” Cynthia teased.

“Wha- huh?”

“You fainted, dude.” Z admitted, still standing underneath the shade of the billboard. Her singular hand folded over her chest.

Nathan blinked twice at the drone.

“AAAA-”

“So does she normally do this, or…?” Z questioned.

Cynthia sat beside the Disassembly Drone, her body and face rubbing against the drone’s side. Her internal processors hummed at a content rate, almost akin to the sounds of a content house pet.

“Heh, ahaha! Um, yeah, no, uh, I’ve never seen this before.” Nathan sat criss-cross in the snow, his hands nervously tapped on his kneecaps.

“‘Kay… Do you, like…”

“I tried. Try. I still try. I try, and, um, she doesn’t really, like, um… listen to me all the time? I-I mean usually she’s, um, good at… that, but she’s, um, being kinda… uh… like…”

“...Weird?”

“N-Not weird!” Nathan defended. “Just, um… insistent…?”

“Alright…”

The two sat in awkward silence, the taller one rocking back and forth impatiently, or perhaps nervously. 

“So… is there a reason that you two are out here, or…?”

“Oh! Um, yeah, we, um… kinda, sorta, maybe left our colony, because, um, difference in beliefs…?”

“Oh?” Z hummed.

“Yeah, basically I would’ve, um… Cyn? Could you turn down your audio sensors for a moment, please?”

Cynthia obeyed silently, still cradling against the Disassembly Drone’s side.

“I basically would’ve been evicted, and sorta lost custody of her? Because, um, I can’t… work?”

“Pft.” Z sniggered. 

“...Sorry?”

“Nah, it’s just like… A Worker Drone that can’t work. Kinda funny to think about.”

“Haha, um, yeah… pretty funny…” He spoke in a disheartened tone. “Yeah… I’m… still kinda surprised Jennifer would go through with something like that…”

“...Jennifer?”

“Oh! Yeah! That’s our, um… that’s Outpost 3’s , um, head of the WDF, so she’s basically the one in charge of everything…”

“‘She got pigtails?” Z asked, replacing her hand with some mechanical claws and picking at her teeth with them. Nathan jolted at the sudden movement, but quickly calmed.

“U-Um… Sorry?”

“‘She have pigtails, dude?”

“O-Oh, um, yeah…?” 

“Oh, shit. Yeah, she died, I think.”

“...Huh?!”

“Like, a while ago. Yeah. She was, like, a hologram thing.”

“Wha-, I-, A-, You-... And you know this, how?! Wait…” Nathan’s eyes hollowed and widened upon the realization. “You’re the one who got in when we were leaving!”

“Oh, that was you that opened the door?”

“Oh my God… Oh God… Oh no…” Nathan fell to his back, knees pulled in and hands covering his mouth.

“Hey, I only killed, like, a few people.”

“You killed all of those innocent people?!”

“It wasn’t that many, but you were kinda the one that let me in in the first place, so…”

Nathan sobbed, his hands covering his face.

“I-I… Oh my God…! I-I-If I h-hadn’t just-...”

“W-Woah, hey, um… it’s not that bad-” Z scooted closer to the Worker Drone for comfort. Cynthia shuffled along with her, still humming and oblivious to all that was going on.

“Y-YES IT IS! I-I’M THE REASON ALL OF THOSE PEOPLE GOT KILLED!”

“Uhh… Uh… I-I mean, it could’ve been a lot worse-”

“Wh-What?!”

“Like… I mean, I kinda inadvertently sorta saved everyone there, too, I guess?”

Nathan’s sobbing quelled for a moment, but occasional sniffs still made their way through.

“Wh-What is that supposed to mean?”

“Um… God, uh… Where do I start with this? Um… So, like, your boss or whatever you said she was-”

“...Jennifer? The head of WDF…?”

“Yeah, her. As I said, she was a hologram, and was being projected by this weird sorta thing, that… was… piloting my mom’s dead body…?”

Nathan sat still, mouth hanging open slightly and eyes widened.

“Um… S-So I killed it, and it was super cool and stuff. And I’m badass.”

The Worker Drone stared at her with a dumbfounded expression. Slowly, his pointer finger rose in the direction of his disassembly counterpart.

“...Is that how you lost your arm, or-”

“DON’T ASK ABOUT THE ARM!” Z suddenly sprang up, surprising both Worker Drones. The younger one was quick to respond, standing up alongside the death machine with her hands dangling in front of her chest.

“S-Sorry, sorry! I-I’m just… kinda… confused…”

“About?”

“This is kind of a lot for me to process right now… If I’m getting this straight, and Jennifer was really a… hologram this whole time, I guess it would kind of make sense…” As he spoke, he rose to match the other.

“...Go on?”

“Well, it’s just, she was always kinda a nice and sorta caring person, from what I could remember. She did a lot around the colony, and, y’know, helped people. I always thought it was kinda odd how she just… changed after that day.”

“What day?”

“Ahaha! Um, you sure do ask a lot of questions!”

Z gave him a curious scowl.

“...I’d rather not talk about it right now.” Nathan sighed, his tonal shift causing Z to be more taken aback than she should’ve. His eyes vacated to the drone’s torso and pelvic regions, which were riddled with bullet holes. “Ooh! Your, uh-”

“I know.” She groaned. “I can’t regenerate them until I get the bullets removed…”

“I… I think I might have a pair of tweezers somewhere in here, if, uh…” He took Z’s raising eyebrows as confirmation. The drone snapped his fingers, shooting her two finger guns. “Walk and talk?”

Z smiled, silently agreeing to follow behind the drone. Nathan smiled in return, vacating the shade of the billboard.

“I think we passed by a gas station last night. ‘Might be a nice spot to crash for a while!” He remarked. Z simply continued to follow in his footsteps.

That was, until she stepped out into the sun’s light.

The Disassembly Drone let out a hiss, shooting herself back into the shadows. Her wings instantly tore out from her back, wrapping themselves around her like a bat cloaking.

“...You good?” Nathan stopped, turning to face her with a surprised expression.

“I’m good, shut up!” She snapped. “I just… don’t like the light is all…”

Nathan put an index finger to his chin. “Hm… I might actually have something for this… hang on.”

The Worker Drone slipped his backpack off onto the snow, grimacing slightly as he’d now have to wait for it to dry off later. Putting that aside, he opened up different compartments, checking each one for one specific item. After a moment of rustling, he let out a proud “Ah, here we go!” and turned to present the Disassembly Drone with his findings.

It was… a green cylinder. With a handle.

Z looked at him, confused.

“Wait, hang on!” He reassured, undoing some straps around it and pressing a button on its side. 

In a flash, the object instantly elongated. A metal pole twice the size of the cylinder erupted from the small space, carrying the colorful fabric along with it. At its peak, like magic, the ends of the pole began to fold and open up on their own. Multiple upon multiple thin, metallic tendrils rose and adjusted themselves as need be, as if stretching after being kept dormant for so long. The fabric straightened, slightly curved on each end, to create a canopy, a safe-haven from the sun that could have even made trees jealous.

It was a frog umbrella. A small green umbrella with a design on the top that looked like a frog’s face. With two little eyes that stuck out.

“Ta-daa!” Nathan sang.

The corners of Z’s mouth fell, and her eyes squinted.

“Oh, come on! I’m sure it’ll work just fine, uh… S-Sorry, what’s your name again?”

“...Z…” The Disassembly Drone grumbled.

Without any hesitation, the Worker Drone carefully handed the umbrella over to her. Her hand gripped around the handle, not too tightly so as to break it, but tightly enough that she could take out some of her humility on it.

“Come on, Z! Let’s go!” Nathan beckoned her over with a mighty wave, and started to walk off on his own.

Reluctantly, the Disassembly Drone stepped into the sunlight, now shaded by the cover of the tiny umbrella. She sighed.

“‘You find anything good yet?” Nathan called over his shoulder, hunched on his knees and sifting through a pile of broken shelf parts and packaged food. He wiped his brow. The fluorescent lights overhead beated heat down onto them.

“Searching. Sifting. Searching. …No…” Cynthia sighed, also looking through a pile of debris.

Z grimaced, staring at the likely-20-year-old, opened bottle of engine oil in her hand. It was cold. Black chunks swirled around the edges of the bottle.

“Ah! There we go!” Nathan pulled an ancient purple straw out from a collection of rubble. “See? It’s purple! Kinda like your hair!” 

He wiggled the straw in front of the Disassembly Drone’s face. She side-eyed him, but accepted the gift anyways, putting the bottle down to free up space in her hand.

“Uh… Thanks…”

“No problem!” He flashed a thumbs-up. 

Cynthia moped to her brother, pressing her face against his side.

“Big brotherrr…” Her muffled voice called out.

“Yeah?”

“I’m tired…”

“Ooohh, okay… NOW you’re tired…” He teased.

“Yeahhh…”

He scooped up the little drone, putting her over his shoulders and holding her in a piggy-back. 

“Well, if you wanna get some rest, you can. I won’t stop you.”

The Worker Drone sat on a collapsed pillar perpendicular to an old lawn chair Z resided in. Cynthia’s hands went limp, and dangled off the sides of his face. Her head rested, cheek pressed up against the top of his head.

Z winced, forcing the chunky liquid down her throat. An unpleasant sloshing sound emitted from her neck, the only sound besides the overhead buzzing that filled the otherwise silent room.

“Blegh…” She stuck her tongue out. Nathan chuckled.

“Yeah… old oil isn’t exactly the most, uh… pleasant drink to have…”

“There was this one time–I was way younger–where I was home alone- er, no, my dad was there, but I was thirsty. Anyway, we didn’t really have too much around for snacks and stuff. I can’t remember why… maybe we just hadn’t gone grocery shopping in a while…? Uh, anyways, there was a cabinet that we had. We never really touched it too often, but I wanted something to drink, so I was like, ‘Okay, I’m gonna just search around and see if we’ve got anything around here.’ Sure enough, there wasn’t really anything anywhere, but then I checked this one cabinet and I noticed a bottle of oil in the way, way back of the thing. So, I was kinda just like ‘Oh, sweet!’, so I took the bottle, started drinking it. As soon as it touched my lips, it was like a block of room-temperature paste shot into the back of my throat.”

Z giggled a little, and Nathan laughed to himself. “Yeah, so, uh… chunky oil? Would not recommend it. But, eh, we get what we get out here, I guess.”

Z looked at him with a smile on her face. He continued to stare at the flickering light above. “I think it caused me to throw up, actually. My dad really got an earful after that one…”

She giggled again.

“What about your parents? What are they like?”

“Oh… I don’t really talk to my dad too much…” Z sighed in a casual tone.

“Ah, that’s cool, that’s cool. No worries.” He reassured her. “Oh, yeah! I was… uh… checking the first aid stuff that I brought…” The drone leaned over to his backpack, ensuring he didn’t lean too hard so that his sister wouldn’t fall. In it, he pulled out a small red bag with a zipper, rummaging through it for something. “I did, indeed, bring some tweezers with me! ‘Just need to find ‘em…”

Z watched intently as the Worker Drone pulled out standard first aid gear. Gauze, bandages, a wrench, screwdriver, replaceable wires, extra screws…

“Here!” He exclaimed, pulling out a surprisingly rust-free pair of tweezers. “I found these bad boys in the scrapyard. Turns out they’re not just full of useless junk!” 

He zipped the bag back up, placing it to his side and leaning in close to the Disassembly Drone. “So, um… do you want me to, like… y’know…?”

Z looked to the floor. On the one hand, she wasn’t keen on a stranger digging into her body for stray bullets. On the other, evidence had shown she wasn’t the greatest at removing them herself.

She slowly nodded. Nathan smiled.

“Here, could you just get a little bit closer so that I could-... Yeah, that works!” Z scooted the chair she was sitting in towards him. “Um… So, just to be clear, I’m, uh, not really a medical professional? B-But I’m sure this’ll be fine… I’ve played Operation before…”

Nathan leaned close to her torso, hunched over from where he sat. Z was surprised as to how the hell he was managing to balance both himself and his little sister with the way he was sitting.

“Uh… So I’m gonna, uh… y’know, start now.”

Z grunted impatiently.

“J-Just letting you know! I didn’t want to startle you, um… okay…”

The cool metal of the tweezers brushing against her internals did not feel pleasant, but it was nicer than having to dig her fingers into her skin again. As the Worker Drone operated on her, she had to actively prevent herself from reacting to his sudden movements. 

Occasionally, a wire would need to be nudged out of the way, or the squish of oil would sound out from the wound. Each time, it was followed with a ‘Sorry about that!’ or an ‘Are you doing alright?’ from him, to which she would only nod with her approval. 

Each time a bullet was pulled out of her, it was like she was given more room to breathe. The ‘clink!’ of oil-stained bullets bouncing along the floor signified her repair nanites to start putting in the work, closing off the wounds and starving off any chances of infection. Nathan wiped his forehead nervously each time, clearly stressed about the situation. She didn’t mind it. His reactions were understandable. It wasn’t every day that you were tasked with fishing around someone’s guts for stray bullets. Speaking of, where did those even come from?

Out when she was on autopilot was what she chalked it up to. Likely ran into some armed drones, potentially a full posse of them, given how many bullet holes she had within her. She didn’t care now, anyways. They were being dealt with, and having someone around that willingly decided to help her and seemed to genuinely care for her wellbeing, at least to an extent, was making her feel-

“All done!” Nathan declared. The last bullet clinked against the cracked, tile floor. “i-I’m sorry if I hurt you at all during that! I’m, uh, not very experienced in this whole sorta thi-”

“Thank you.” Z cut him off.

“O-Oh! Oh! Um… okay! Uh, no problem! Uh… are you feeling better?”

Z looked down at her torso, seeing the small holes slowly close themselves up one-by-one. 

“I guess time will tell.”

Nathan clenched his fists in front of his face. 

“I’ll take that as a maybe, then! Yay!!” Z couldn’t help but stifle a giggle.

The Worker Drone wiped the now oil-covered tool off on a part of his coat, feeding it back into the first-aid bag. Cynthia continued to snore peacefully, using the top of the drone’s head as a makeshift pillow.

“So… How’d you end up dealing with that whole, uh… hologram… mom thing?” Z’s head jolted back in surprise by the random question.

“Where’d that come from?”

“I dunno!” Nathan said, giving her an innocent, wavy-line smile. “Curious!”

Z remained silent for a moment.

“...The same reason I lost this arm, I guess.”

“Ah.” Nathan realized. “Sorry to hear.”

“It’s… whatever. Annoying, but whatever.”

Nathan nodded.

“So… She was this, like… weird spider… snake… crab thing? She tried to kill me because… I think she wanted me to become another one of those things, or something?”

“Jeez…”

“Yeah, but, y’know. I dealt with her. At a cost, of course…” Her ball joint arm waggled. “Weirdly enough, she wasn’t the only hologram I saw…”

“W-Wait, really?” Nathan perked up.

“Yeah. This, like, janitor guy, or something…”

Nathan remained silent, a curved finger placed on his chin. His brow furrowed.

“...’Something you’re thinking about?”

“Yeah… I was just sorta thinking… Do you think, like… I-If she was able to make holograms of these different people that she presumably killed, do you think that they’re… like… somewhere in her system, still?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, think about it. She was able to preserve the appearances of these drones she killed. Maybe there’s a chance Jennifer is still in there!”

“...If that’s the case, then,” Z started. “...Maybe my mom is in there, too… Though, I don’t see how that really helps us.”

“W-Well, I’m no technical expert, but I was thinking that… maybe if there’s some kind of way to extract them from the body, we could potentially upload them onto clean drone models! There’s a Worker Drone factory not too far from the colony’s main entrance, I think!”

“...Right, and… how exactly am I going to get in there? Last time I checked, you guys aren’t exactly a fan of people like me.”

“I might not be able to get in either… I did let you in that one time…” Nathan pondered. “Oh… Who am I kidding? It was a dumb idea…”

“N-No! No! It-... ahem … It wasn’t a dumb idea, just… i-i-it needs a little workshopping, is all. I, um… like where your head is at…?” Z tried her best to compliment the drone. She had no prior experience in those things.

Nathan beamed excitedly. “You do?”

“Ah… Shut up… Nevermind…” Z mumbled.

“So it IS a good plan!”

“It… needs a little bit of tailoring, but… I think it could work.”

Nathan squealed, practically leaping from his seat to wrap the Disassembly Drone in a tight hug.

“GET OFF ME!” She yelled.

“A-Ah, right! Sorry!” He tensed, sitting back down.

His younger sister groaned atop his head, stirring a little from the sudden loudness.

The sun outside started to set, coating the town in a hue of red and orange. The bright light shined through the windows and broken foundation, thankfully missing the Disassembly Drone as she had a shelf between her and the light.

“...Talk more tomorrow?” Nathan asked. Z remained silent for a moment.

“...Sure.”