CHAPTER 1: "Happenstance."

"The hardest moments in your life are always your best. Embrace the pain and despair of your condition, for it is what distinguishes Machine from Man. Man from Animal. Animal from Dust." - The XII Mechanor Tridex (Circa 1958).  

Quick as a bell, a noise blared all across the Ruinyard. The Cleansing was finished. All the sins and impurities of the prior epoch were to be disposed of into the pit. Aside from the brief lesson they taught to those on the higher planes, their form was irrelevant; anything else they contained, even moreso.

The siren was relentless, blaring with both low and high kilohertz waves, all at once.

The kilohertz tone reached its high point as hatches opened from up high, and parts of discarded machine fell from the hatches, plummeting down into the abyss and crashing onto the piles, which stretched all across the landscape of the Ruinyard, the clattering sound of one machine being lost to the deadening sounds of the next; all lost to the pit.

The pale light that enveloped the Ruinyard began to spin all around, revealing pieces of machine that sat in every nook and cranny. Some of them were claws; some were delicate hands. A few were larger still, with more machinery appended onto the cold metal feet, or the still alloy fingers. 

Amongst the inert robots, there were even larger parts still. Chunks of torso, waist, and torsos sat within the decrepitude of the piles. Some were larger, while others were smaller. As with the limbs, their shapes varied, from sharp to soft, from rough to smooth.

All of them emitted a single tone. A ceaseless, but subtle noise that began to sing in chorus with the alarm that blanketed the mountains of machine parts, which continued to slam into each other, forming piles of dead metal, which lined the surface of the Ruinyard like a landfill, full of things that no one had any use for.

Every pile emitted the same noise.

Higher pitch.

Low pitch.

High pitch.

Lower pitch.

High pitch.

Scramble.

For all the disagreements the dead may have had before their descent, this was the one thing that they could all agree on.

Every moment of every cycle, the noise repeated itself. All the bodies that made their way to the pit partook in this same, unceasing chorus.

No matter the generation of machine, no matter the function of a given robot; they all gave out the same series of sine waves. A military machine gave out the same noise as a civilian. A righteous Triad-fearing machine gave out the same noise as an unworthy Irrationite. The large machine was not any louder than the small. 

No instance of the noise was first. No instance of the noise was last.

For every machine was equal in deactivation. 

All of their bodies were content to rust and decay, singing that constant auditory pattern until their form was no more.

Except for one.

...

She couldn't see anything, nor could she feel anything.

She tried to remember, but nothing came.

It was as if a clouded hand grasped her mind, its grip growing ever tighter.

She could only hear the noise.

Higher pitch.

Low pitch.

High pitch.

Lower pitch.

High pitch.

Scramble.

It was like her body disappeared. That withered, decrepit thing that currently sat at the bottom of existence had served its purpose, and now awaited the eventual oblivion of the true death.

She didn't want to admit it, but she wanted oblivion too.

She was so close to it. She was practically stuck in nothingness. 

A void of blackness for as far as she could see.

She was scared, but relieved at the same time.

She was free from his grasp. For the TRIADMUS held no sway here.

The void's hand did not meddle with her knowledge, nor her emotions. It did not think. If it did think, why would it think about her?

She panicked in the blackness for a moment, as if her mind had a floor that somehow disappeared.

She heard something, a series of small tapping noises that echoed from the top of the metal mass that rested on her.

The tapping chorus seemed to slide down the left side of the metal mass. It intensified for a bit, before fading away.

It was silent again.

The silence started to grow unnerving for her. Even without sight, she felt her entire body falling into the abyss, forever and forever. 

She thought to herself.

'Who am I?'

She tried to make the mist of her mind disappear, but it only relented for a split moment.

'I..'

She knew that she'd been called something with that letter in the past, but everything after that felt hazy.

'I'm I.'

It sounded quite bizarre having just one letter as her designation. Was there something more to it?

There was no way for her to confirm this, as her knowledge of the other letters eluded her.

But still. 'I' was a start. 

She began to felt a weird, numbing pain in her brain. Maybe she was thinking too much.

She closed her figurative eyes and let the void around her turn from nothingness to nothing.

'Rest..' She seemed to ponder the word.

Her consciousness began to slip away in a blissful haze. Another series of tapping noises began to crawl to the side of her head.

The noises began to emit a metallic shrill, raised so high that it felt like nails on chalkboard.

She tried to ignore it, but to no avail.

She heard a chorus of mechanical screeching, then silence.

...

'I' opened her eyes. What was left of them at least.

Her screen lit up, illuminating scraps of metal and wire, cobbled together into various knick-knacks and parts that strew the inside of the pile that she lay trapped in.

She tried to move her dominant arm, but there was no weight on her right arm. She only heard the subtle noise of a joint moving in place.

No arm.

She tried to rotate her body.

Not a sound to be heard. Mechanical or otherwise.

She felt something tighten in her chest. Whatever needed to be done, she felt she needed to do it now.

"Computer..? Systems Diagnostic please?"

The message came out strange and stilted. The words came out in a harsh computerized monotone.

'Core Integrity Suboptimal. Core Damage Negligible.'

'Good.' she thought. 'Guess I worried too much-'

'BRISKET Hull Durability is 68.97%. Repair at the latest PCC facility is strongly advised.'

'Please please..' The tight feeling in her chest began to constrict again. 'What happened to the rest of my-'

'Left LOCKHORN Arm Actuators are 97.35% intact.'

'BRISKET Components are not present. TROTTER Legs cannot be pinged.'

'Critical System Damage estimated to be around 71.64%.'

Her mind connected the dots. 'Oh no.' 

She felt something was stuck below her, so whatever that was, she couldn't move that either.

She also couldn't get rid of the itch that must have established itself earlier; before she could feel it.

She could talk, but the condition of her Vocal Tract was wanting. 

She could also see. But it seemed like her audio receptive systems had been damaged.

She was pinged a message from her body. It arrived with some peculiar news:

'Warning: Unidentified Subject gaining mass in the bottom center of TELLY unit-'

She began to hear something. A string of consciousness, like all the other ones she had heard before.

She was scared of these things before, but they taught her how to tune them out. They were loud at first, but nothing a little mental tuning couldn't fix. 

That's what they told her, at least.

'It would be fine.' she calmed herself. 

So all in all, tomato to potato, you're in a bit of a pickle.

Cows don't stick their head in the sand. Ostriches do that.

Was it really worth all this kid?

She did a double take. 'Wait wha-?'

She couldn't "hear" the voice, but she could hear the words. Like they were being written in her head.

You'd think that having the Numerical Tag 1300 would've made you less afraid of stuff like this right?

She stewed the strange thought. 'H-How did you know that?'

She heard the voice again.

What's this? You're actually responding to me right now? 

The voice started laughing with satisfaction, as if vindicated in some terrible joke made in poor taste.

You and I both know that this isn't your first rodeo. You've felt my kind before, and I'm pretty sure I've felt yours!

She tried to ignore the voice, in a bid to dispel its presence from her mind.

Before you start to ask. No. I am not a hallucinatory figment of your imagination. And on another note: two and two make six.

Even in this condition, she couldn't bring herself to ignore the seemingly apparent mathematical error that the voice just said to her.

"Two and two make four." She responded, in a broken mechanical voice.

Good. Good. We're getting somewhere. Now I want to ask you something cut from the same.. intestinal tissue so to speak. 

What do three and three make?

The question seemed almost too simple. As if it was some sort of trick.

Like the first, there were two ways that this could go, but she knew somewhere in herself that the voice was probably only going to accept one answer.

She stewed on the question, before responding again.

"Three and th-"

Her voice stalled for a bit, like a car that had difficulty starting. Or someone that just began hiccupping. 

Her voice had somehow found a way to sound even more jarring and strange, as it cycled through various noises intended to make the intended sentence.

"Ee-nd...Th-ra-a-a-an-d--Three-ee.."

She knew what sound she wanted to make, but her Vocal Tract resisted.

"M-Ma-k-ke nine."

Oh good! Looks like our little hiccup sorted itself out.

There was a pause, as if something strange had been said.

Well. Guess you're technically correct, but I meant six kid.

Alright. Third time's the charm right? I think that's how the phrase goes.

What do five and two make?

She knew that it was a simple answer, but something felt off about it. As if it was some sort of trick.

What do five and two make?

The statement began to echo in her head in taunting simplicity.

She blurted out something that sounded right from the top of her head. She could only hope that it was correct.

"Fi-Five and tw-two m-m-m-make t-"

What is it? T ain't a valid letter in base ten.

"Ten!"

You sly little thing. Did you really believe that just because I said ten that the answer was ten?

There was a brief silence.

Well in that case, you're correct! The answer is ten. In base ten!

Something about that number... It appealed to her.

Just one. Just zero. The simplicity of it. It satisfied something basal in her.

The voice interjected again.

It's fascinating reading your thought patterns, did you know that?

Your irrationalities are quite invigorating to witness. So much passion in such pointless tasks.

"Don't say that." she protested. 

Say what?

"Pointless." she specified.

Yeah. I'd hate that word if I were you too.

Normally, it should've sounded lifeless, but something about the way she shouted made it sound more alive.

The more she thought about it, the more hilarious it became to her.

The one time she sounded alive, it was a word that made her feel dead.

"T-ten..." she muttered to herself.

You know, when you think about it, by the time you reach ten in base ten, the number line starts to plagiarize itself. So tell you what. That'll be your new name. Ten.

She thought about the numbers. One and zero.

They looked like a letter. Actually two letters.

"I" was one of them. But the other one was eluding her mind.

She spoke. Her voice was beginning to revert back to a more machine-like monotone, but her request was still clear.

"S-So. Half of ten is zero, right?"

Al-Khwarzim would be appalled. Not that I care. Do you?

She realized something. 

"Wait. I know who that is! From the files right?" her voice was giddy with satisfaction.

And I thought I was the only piece of brain meat in here!

There was another uncomfortable silence.

´...´

I guess that wasn't the best choice of words.

Anyway. If you mean what I think you mean, then yeah.

'Half of ten is zero'

"So. There's a letter that looks like zero.. right?" she asked.

Yeah. You're tap dancing on the edge of right smartsie.

"I already know what the letter 'I' is."

Do you know any other letters kid?

The admission would be embarrassing, but lying probably wouldn't help her either.

"Umm. I-I can't think of any letters."

Seriously? You've been spitting out half of the alphabet a couple minutes ago. What the heck happened? 

You're really telling me that you can't think of any other letters?

"Yes." she sighed.

Could you be a deer in the headlights and say something for me?

"That's not how the phrase goes--"

You're not how the typical Mecharus goes either kid.

"I-I guess you have a point there.." she chuckled awkwardly. 

Anyway. The phrase goes something like this:

'The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.'

And before you ask, I don't know about your vocal skills. Or if your speakers have amnesia. But I'm pretty sure you can say this straight.

Don't sweat. I'm pretty sure you've talked harder than this.

Her screen shined brightly with renewed vigor. 

"Thanks!" 

She almost tried to take a deep breath. She did not know why. It was just force of habit at this point.

"The quick b-br. Brown fox jumps ov-ver the l-laz-y d-d..."

Her voice stalled again, breaking itself apart like a failing machine.

Wait what? Come on. You're almost there Ten.

"Brown fox jumps over the lazy dog!"

So..

Her screen dimmed down to a steady frequency. The inside of the pile went darker. Only a small trace of light remained.

A shame enveloped her.

"Sorry about that." she said meekly. 

She always did have a hatred for small mistakes. Even the best of days could be ruined by such small things.

Don't sweat it kid. We've got better things to do than fuss over stuff like this.

Anyway. How the heck do you not know the letters? You just said all the letters in one sentence.

She was silent again. Why would she react swiftly if that led to mistakes?

Alright kiddo. Let me put it in a way that your tiny tin brain can understand.

You're a budding capitalist at a lemonade stand. You have to make this crap make cents even if it kills you. Or spreads lemon all over your face.

"Something about my mind's been damaged. I can remember the words if I think hard enough, but all the words feel like... a haze to me." she clarified to the voice.

Hmmm. Doesn't make a whole lot of bank, but as of right now, you're the only one in that small screen of yours.

The voice paused for a bit.

So. What might clear up that little issue we've got? Hit me with whatever you've got kid.

"Can you enter my head?"

Would you want me to enter your head?

She thought about it, but only realized that she didn't want to think about it anymore.

So... Any other options? I'm sick of the awful reverse 40 degree angle your body is in.

"What?!"

Don't mind that, I'll explain the details later.

She cleared her throat. Like with most of the stuff she did, it was a force of habit. 

"It might be a long shot, but I think if you talk to me long enough, I might be able to recall some of my memories again."

Really? That's your grand solution?

There was a long silence again.

Hey? You're still here right? I can read your vitals. If you think that falling asleep is going to kill you, then it ain't working kid. 

She already knew what the voice thought of their current situation, but she wanted to confirm. Just in case.

"Well. Do you wanna get out of here or not?"

Do you take me for some kind of fruit fly?

"I'll take that as a yes!"

The voice could just hear her smiling. It was a bit cheesy, and infectious all at the same time.

So. What do you wanna talk about?

Alright kiddo. Which letters are you going to start with? I don't have all day.

"Well. I'd like if you'd start with the one that looks like zero-"

...

NEXT:

Nanitus: The Automachy [Episode 2 "Small Steps"] {PILOT on Notebook.ai