Chapter Text
Wherever it went, the chimes followed.
They rung with every step. Every simulacrum of a breath, every aimless rustle of fabric from its cloak or errant twist of its gears. No matter how steady, how slow, how perfectly it marched, they would ring. Their sound spiraling into the air so the wind could carry it into the ears of every creature around. A charming, polite way to announce its presence so no one could assume it was there to hurt them.
One of many lessons learned when wandering the lands. A tall, botched effigy of a spirit, covered in moss and lichen, far too silent for something so rudimentary, would sadly always trigger the primitive reaction of fearing what almost looked familiar. On more than one occasion it was attacked on sight, and every time it was for a reason it had not considered before. Somehow, after u̸n̷d̴e̵f̸i̶n̸e̶d̸ years of existence, the automaton that called itself Two was still finding new ways its mannerisms could be interpreted as hostile intent.
It often marveled at how much effort it took to be seen as passive and meek. It had taken almost an hour to cross the field towards the village, because moving too fast could startle any witnesses and send them running for their guardians. It could not meet anyone’s eyes directly, as the yellow glow behind them was always seen as sinister. It had to crouch low to face anyone that would come speak to it, lest its towering visage scare them away. So many little rules, so many errant twitches and unconscious signals that would render them worthless, but still they remained the path of least resistance to accomplish the Directive.
It did not fear violence. Its combat proficiency was not in question. However, needless bloodshed would almost always hinder its mission, and as such should be avoided at all costs. Exceptions existed of course, such as self defense or when it was actively asked to fight, but the ideal situation for all creatures present was one that could be solved with words instead of blades.
Words were, after all, its trade.
Thankfully, the village it had just left had been nothing if not welcoming, and it had walked away with its body unscathed and its mind a little more complete. Some inhabitants had asked for secrets, locations for hidden treasure, advice for love and loss, while others had asked for far more ordinary things. In return they had told it about themselves, their lives and thoughts and opinions, the history and growth of their village. Mesker’s Well, it was called. Such a quaint little home amidst the battlefield of the gods.
But sadly, it was time to leave once more. Another step in the spiral staircase leading to the fulfillment of the Directive. Once more unto the road, to wherever time and curiosity would take it next.
“...ait!”
Two paused mid stride.
“Wait!”
It turned around, slowly, so as to not startle whoever was approaching. A spirit, estimated to be no older than twelve, was charging through the field waving a piece of paper in her hand.
“Mister! Wait!”
It appears it had missed a customer. As she approached it crouched lower, then lower still as the little girl proved to be smaller and smaller as she approached. She ground to a halt a few feet away and threw her fist in the air, her victory somewhat diminished by the fact she was gasping for air.
“I…!’ She paused, heaving “Have a drawing!”
If its mouth could move, Two would be smiling. “I’m sure it’s wonderful.”
“Yeah, it is! - I, I mean no, you-” She stomped her foot. Adorable. “If I give you this you have to answer a question! That's what you said!”
“I suppose.” The automaton slowly reached out, as slowly as possible. Children were quick to trust, but also easy to scare away. “May I see it?”
The spirit hesitated, then stepped forward slowly with the drawing held out in front of her. Two kept his hand right where it was, and as soon as the paper slipped between its fingers it caught it between them as the girl leapt back. It refused to move an inch until she looked comfortable again, before straightening and smoothing out the sheet.
A crude drawing of a flower, splotchy and graceless, a rush job judging from her stained fingers. A flower it recognized and had seen a thousand times before, both in person and in varied artistic reproductions made with varying levels of skill. It was nothing new. Nothing valuable.
Two shook its head. “I’m sorry. I only accept things I've never seen or heard of before.”
Her ears drooped, her lip wobbled. “But…”
“Now, I didn’t say you can’t pay the fee.” Two leaned back to sit cross-legged, and patted the ground in front of it. “How about you tell me about the artist? That’s someone I never heard about.”
The spirit was confused for a moment before realization struck. “Oh! You mean me?”
“Is this not your work?”
“No, no, it was me!” She sat down in front of it, smiling. “Okay, so my name is Nia! I’m ten! That’s-” Nia raised both hands, fingers splayed “- this much! I live in a little cot at the edge of the village with mama, and we…"
She trailed off as the machine raised a hand. It’s “mouth” was a hole in its face, a carved semicircle through which one could glimpse brown grates resembling a toothy, demented grin. It wouldn’t move, but experience taught the machine that tilting its head up towards the sky could make it seem far friendlier. “Please, wait. You only have to tell me as much as necessary to get whatever information you seek.” It put its hand back down, resting it on its lap. “If you don’t mind, could you state what you wish to know?”
Nia nodded, cheerful. “I want to know about you!”
It froze.
A common request. One there was absolutely no reason not to honor, and once would have it talking about its life until its voice gave out. Two would have regaled Nia with tales of volcanoes and the depths of the ocean, gods and monsters. Legendary battles or the most mundane of days. It gathered, and learned, and once upon a time it itched to share.
Sadly, its memory was no longer as reliable as it used to be. And if there was anything it hated more than withholding, it was giving away false or misleading information.
Dangerous information.
A line of static hissed in the back of its mind. Those b̴a̵s̷t̸a̸r̶d̶s̵ -
“Mister?”
A tiny voice reached it, its owner starting to lean away. Its nature meant it could be unnaturally still, absent the signs of life most creatures of the flesh could display. Two immediately set itself back into motion, trying to tranquilize Nia. “I am sorry. What you ask for are centuries worth of history, something not even the history of your life could match.”
Nia opened her mouth to speak, but it stopped her again. “However, you can settle some doubts. How about this: I ask you a question, you answer to the best of your ability, then you get to ask me a question, which I will also answer as best as I can. Is that acceptable?”
Nia nodded, leaning so far forward she was almost falling over. “Yes!”
“Very well.”
And so they began. Back and forth, the little spirit happily babbling about her life while it nodded and hummed, then listening with as much attention as a child could muster as the machine did its best to cut down its answers to something a child could hear. Always true to its concept of equivalence.
Her name was Nia, its own was Two. The number carved on its chest when it first woke up, long since stripped away by time.
She lived in a house with her mother, it had no home. Only fleeting residences where it could rest and recharge in peace.
Her father was dead at the hands of a cultist, and the automaton never had a living parent.
She paused after the last exchange. “Are you a cultist?”
It shook its head. “No.”
“Are you- are you sure?” She dragged herself away slightly. “You know a lot, talk a lot. Isn’t there something that likes that? The Hero - Hiel - Heeiol-”
“The Hierophant?” it inquired, gently.
“Yeah, that one! Do you serve it?”
No, it thought. In fact, it wasn’t sure it could properly distill its feelings towards the concept and express them in a way the child could understand.
Its duty was to Discover. Find everything, learn everything, leave no stone unturned, amass enough knowledge that if civilization ever died, its data could be the base for a perfect replica. Its steel had endured the fall of civilizations. It had witnessed the world remodel itself, making most of its discoveries outdated and leaving it no choice but to start over. It had never been upset, most paradigm shifts only meant there was a new trove of things to seek out. If this was a normal world, even if it took eternity, the Directive would be fulfilled.
Except there were things it couldn’t understand.
It still remembered the day when it clashed against some worshippers of the rending teeth. Remembered their viciousness and savagery, how their blood sizzled against its blades. Recalled in perfect detail how the last of their number, bisected at the waist, threw their arms around its neck and w̵h̶i̶s̵p̶e̸r̷e̶d̶.
It couldn’t recall what was said, but it could feel what it had done. A black scorch mark in its memory banks, like someone pressed a branding iron against its brain and dragged it down. Felt as whatever was behind the destruction in its mind refused to disappear completely, bleeding into other memories and changing the most minute details, throwing everything it had ever known into question.
There were things that not only could it not learn, but permanently injured its ability to learn at all. A madness carefully tailored for its existence.
It had asked for mercy. Looked up at the night sky and asked for an audience with the mother of all stars, to plead for freedom of its Directive so it wouldn’t have to toil towards an impossible goal for the rest of its days. There had been no answer.
From what it learned since then, it could imagine its plight brought her some mild amusement. Like looking at a lost ant and wondering if it would ever find its way home.
As long as the Outer Gods existed, its mission would be impossible to complete.
It had not yet come to terms with that. Perhaps it never would.
“I do not serve the Hierophant.” Nia flinched back once Two spoke. She had stood up, shifting her weight as if getting ready to run away. “I could never serve any god. I respect their power, and that is all.”
It had no eyes. Only lenses, built to grant it perfect sight and focus beams of false light for combat and maintenance purposes. But somehow, as soon as Nia looked up to meet them, it saw the tension drain out of her frame. Her eyes filled with recognition, then curiosity, then sadness.
She stepped closer. “Are you okay?”
“Nia!”
Her expression immediately shifted into dread, much to its amusement. Another spirit was running their way, so fast she left a glowing trail, closing the distance in seconds and darting between the girl and the machine, arms spread out protectively.
“Are you okay?! Did it hurt you?!” The mother rushed out, not taking her eyes off the automaton.
“No, no! I’m okay! Don’t hurt him, please!” Nia pleaded, starting a rushed back and forth where the spirit pressed her daughters for answers without turning around while the girl tried to eke out an explanation, almost dissolving into sobs, Two being pinned in place with a glare while sparks danced around the newcomers fingers.
Love was always something it would stop and observe. It had asked hundreds of creatures how it felt, and received thousands of answers. It tried to piece together a theory using associated concepts such as courtship and legacy, but never got any closer to understanding what drove two creatures to decide their lives belonged to each other. That they would die before letting their partner come to any harm.
Its own experiences with some of its forms were short and fleeting. An offer of shelter in a thunderstorm. A shared meal, despite the fact it could not eat. A little girl, eyes shining with concern as she glimpsed a burden in its lifeless eyes.
Its eyes shuttered with a mechanical click as it branded the image of the family into its mind, a line so small it was invisible being carved into a band of bronze. There were about twelve, coiled together and stacked on top of each other to form a sphere at the center of its head, their surfaces meant to be eventually overtaken by runes and scribbles, eons of data.
Only half of one had been used extensively so far.
“Ma’am.” It spoke, feeling the weight of the spirits full attention. It stood up halfway, rising from a sitting position into a crouch, before placing a hand on its chest and bowing its head. “Do not blame your daughter. She is a curious soul, and I meant her no harm.” It huffed, a metallic sound. “Don’t worry. She kept me in line.”
Honesty, courtesy, wit. The trifecta of putting ones mind at ease, and prying words from even the most stubborn of lips. He saw the tension in her shoulders dissipate and her eyes soften, as she finally allowed herself to glance at her daughter over her shoulder.
“Alright. You’ve had your fun. We’re going home.”
Nia got up slowly, leaning sideways to look past her mother.
“Do you want to come with us? We’re having duck for lunch today!”
Her mother whirled, balking. “Nia!”
It was already standing up and turning around when the offer reached it. Its first instinct was to decline, mentioning it had to be somewhere else. That was always true. No matter how much it walked, there was always something, somewhere, someone it had not seen yet. It could journey to the lands of the starlit, where the Key ruled eternal, find a way up to the islands in the sky, use its accumulated education to duel the silver-tongued servants of the Knowing.
It could leave. Travel, fight. Let the years slip by.
Then one day return to this place, at the barren spot where a village used to be, and recall a passing conversation with a ten year old girl.
It wanted a few more memories to remember them by.
“I accept.” Both spirits looked at it. Nia’s face split into a smile. “If you’ll have me, of course.”
It had all the time in the world.