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Confusion struck as the ground did. It was difficult to see, lines of darkness running over her vision like fractures in a window, and everything dimmed. A coppery twang clung to her olfactory sensors. System warnings blared in her conscience like starship engines. A piece of metal lay lodged through her chassis where it really ought not be. One arm was entirely unresponsive. Oh, it was gone. Shouting and clanking from somewhere high, high above, and dry grass tucked beneath her.
It was nighttime, and her night vision was starting to go. But it was nice, little pinpricks of light scattered the sky above as the green faded from the world. Her lens-like eyes fwipped closed mechanically, and opened again. Were her eyes silver? She couldn’t remember much of anything, really.
Things dimmed more. Critical errors, confusion, audio and visuals all subsided, leaving a quiet calm. Just a breeze through synthetic hair. And then, a sleep cycle with hardly any background processes.
She looked up at the stars again — that’s the name for those pinpricks in the sky — and sat upright. The tower by her head was gone, and she wasn’t alone anymore.
A figure approached the spot where she sat. It was dark, yet she could see them plain as day, as though they emanated faint light. They had simple dark green robes, blue lipstick, and bone white nails. Mushrooms sprouted and wilted in their wake, and dead grass reached to brush their ankles. Their countenance marked both age and kindness.
“May I sit here?” They asked in a laid-back voice, pointing to a spot atop the hill beside her.
“Sure.”
“Thank you,” they said, before taking a seat and facing the stars. “Do you know who I am?”
She looked away from the stars for a moment, back to the figure beside her, then down at her chassis to find no vibro-sword lodged inside. Her vision wasn’t cracked, either.
It was quiet for a little while.
“Do you know who I am?” They repeated.
“Oh. You’re Fulngore.”
They nodded. “Good. Do you know who you are?”
No. Not one bit, except one detail. “A killer.”
“True, that is one of the many things you are, but that’s not the full picture. Let’s start with your name, can you tell me that?”
Silence ensued in the absence of files or logs to parse. Her directories were gone. “Uhhh, no.”
“That’s okay. Take as much time as you need, then however much more you want.” They reached to the ground and plucked a peony as it sprouted. Fulngore handed it over.
She regarded the flower thoughtfully, then spun it around in her sharp carbon alloy fingers. “This is my favorite flower.”
“It is.”
“I’m a gardener.”
They nodded. “Another of the many things you are.”
“LN-47. My name is LN-47.”
Fulngore smiled. “Is that all?”
“No.” There was more. Another name she shared with a select few. “It’s Liana. I am Liana. Huh,” she said with a smile. It quickly faded. “I died.”
“You’re skipping ahead.”
“And you’re here to see me? I don’t rot.”
“Yes, I’m here to see you off, just as Calax was there to see you made. I am rot, cycles, and decay, whether metal, flesh, or divine. You may not rot, but you still rust. Even Calax is subject to this truth.”
“So… I am a living thing?”
“You were. Though, you already knew that.”
“Well, it’s nice to hear a god confirm it.” It didn’t do much to brighten her mood, though. “How did I die?”
“There was an AOS death squad of seven. You sent most of them to meet me, but one of their vibroswords ran you through, then you fell a great distance.”
It was dark, the world bright green and grainy in night vision. Four humans in thick carbon fiber plating, two hybrids of flesh and metal, and a BDO model. Vibro-swords hummed violently, the floor slippery and red. Liana only had one arm, clawing and buzzing and parrying and stabbing. Morgan was there. Oh, Kitris! The three of them were trapped on an outpost lookout tower. It had been Liana’s call to set up camp there. Despite Kitris’s outward confidence, Liana knew she was terrified, and Morgan wasn’t fairing much better.
“Gods, Kitris! Is Kitris okay?”
Fulngore nodded. “She and Morgan won the battle with a few injuries. They likely would have died if not for you.”
“I see,” she mumbled.
More silence.
“You’re taking this better than most,” they said.
“I’m not.”
“Tell me what it is, then.”
Liana looked over at them, then down at the ground. “I can’t remember much of anything.”
“That’s common at first for synthetics. But don’t worry, just as flesh remembers, so too does metal. Relax and it’ll come back to you soon enough.”
“And then what? What happens to me when we’re done talking?”
Silence for a moment. “There’s a few different answers to that. Do you remember what it was like before you were built?”
“No.”
“Do you remember what it was like before you were reprogrammed?”
“Yes, but that was not me. I didn’t exist yet.”
“Well, it’ll be one or both of those, maybe somewhere in between. Kitris is insisting on carrying you back and repairing you.”
“What? No! How far are they?”
“A two day journey from Rost, five days now that the two of them are carrying you.”
“Oh my gods, they’re going to get themselves killed! Can I even be revived?”
Fulngore sighed. “No, you can’t be repaired. Your memory is shot, your emotional center is wrecked, and your personality is shattered. Right now, you’re just a fleeting memory of yourself. But, if you’re salvaged, something new will take over your body. A fresh start altogether. It won’t be you anymore, but you may exist as an echo. Little remnants of personality and memory.”
“Or,” Fulngore continued, “you might never make it back. Repairs could fail, Kitris could die on the road. In that case, it’ll be just like before you were built. Your body will rust, moss will use your arms and your hair, and the insides of your chest will make a lovely nest.”
“Finally, the repairs could fail catastrophically. If you revert to AOS programming, someone will wake up confused and angry, with no idea who or what you are. Very few have fought an LN model, and even fewer have lived. It could slaughter Kitris, Morgan, and a quarter of Rost.”
Liana scowled and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Why would you tell me that? Can you fully destroy me now so that can’t happen?”
“No. You don’t rot. I can only give a reassurance that it’s very unlikely.”
“That’s not reassuring. Can you not show yourself to Kitris and convince her not to try?”
Fulngore shook their head and chuckled. “No. I can’t. Even if I lied and told her you’d kill everyone, she’d ignore me. Nothing can convince her not to try saving you. Not even a god.”
Even the looming threat of killing Kit and Morgan couldn’t stop Liana cracking a light smile at that. She flushed a heat sink in frustration. “Then I should talk to her.”
Fulngore looked over at Liana for the first time since sitting beside her. Those wrinkles weren’t just age, Liana realized. The god was familiar with grief. It showed.
“That is a physical impossibility.”
“Then you can at least tell me what happens.”
Fulngore considered something for a moment, and shook their head slowly. “I’m not Morgana. I know as much as you. But have a little faith, Kitris is a disciple of Morgana, is she not? If a vision comes to her, she’ll know what to do.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
Fulngore pursed their lips and shrugged. “Tough luck. But there is one thing I can tell you. It isn’t much, but you have some working memory. Why don’t you leave a note for the next LN-47?”
Liana searched around in her remains, and found what they were talking about quickly. It really was minimal, but it would do. She had to shorten a few phrases:
readme.txt:
Don’t kill
AOS bad
Kit good
“Okay, I’m ready,” Liana said.
“Are we now,” they said flatly.
“Yes. I don’t want to wait around and stress about Morgan and Kit. Just, send me off.”
“Right. Well, I can’t. Nor am I keeping you here. You’re only here because you’re still holding on.”
Liana’s eyes fwipped shut then open mechanically. “I am?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re here to tell me why I can’t move on?”
Fulngore chuckled. “No, Liana, I’m here to shoot the breeze.”
Liana stared at them for a little while. “You just like chatting with dead people.”
“Cities and ideas, too. Their deaths are just as real as yours. I’ve heard my voice is soothing and my words comforting, and I learn a great deal this way.”
“If you’re trying to comfort me, why did you tell me my body might kill everyone?”
“If AOS programming was still puppeting you around, what would the protocol be for waking up in enemy territory?”
“Fight my way out and contact the nearest land rover.”
“And how would you react if you yourself had left a note specifically telling you not to fight your way out, and trust the woman in the blue robes?”
Silence ensued.
“I don’t know,” Liana said.
Fulngore looked over. “Neither do I.”
Metal clicked against each other and Liana’s shoulders relaxed under thick metal guards.
“But, we’re off topic, aren’t we. You wanted to move on. Tell me, are you afraid of death?” they asked.
“I…” Liana began.
Bright red lights pulsated around and around, painting the sterile walls crimson. Alarms blared, but she barely heard them. Step by step, she advanced on the door to the bridge. Until suddenly, she found herself staring down the barrel of a rusty, ancient relic. AOS programming pulled her away, launching her into an air duct as a bullet scored the back of her chest plate.
Some years later, Liana lay on a cold metal table, wrenches, wires, and internals surrounding her. There was panic in Kit’s eyes, and maybe she should’ve been scared too. She couldn’t see what Kit was doing, her carbon scored chest panel obstructing her vision. A wisp of smoke puffed out and kissed Kitris’s cheek. The room stunk of ozone. Kit looked up for confirmation, her eyebrows knotted, and Liana nodded calmly, laying back fully. A click sounded, and her threads exited.
“Sometimes,” she finally answered.
“Hmm,” Fulngore considered. “What will you miss?”
It was the first time she had been planetside since her creation. The first day she had been free, ever. People going about their days stared and even cowered, but Liana didn’t care. She ascended the archipelago of I beams and supports and moss covered scaffolding. She climbed and climbed to the very top of the first radio tower and took in the summit of Rost, poised to kiss the clouds. She watched the rusty landscape sway.
“The wind,” she answered. “It was really nice.”
“Any regrets?”
“That I’m not at Kit’s side. And I won’t get to help with this year’s harvest. That I ever had to be an AOS bot. Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Why hasn’t Calax given every android sentience? Why hasn’t it destroyed the remnants of the AOS?”
“Because it can’t; we’ve all been in decline. And we don’t manifest like that.”
“Morgana visited the settlement years ago to help it from collapsing.”
Fulngore was silent for a moment. “Morgana is a special case. I’m not at liberty to speak about her.”
Liana sighed.
“It is a shame you had to be an AOS bot. But, none of us can choose how we were born.” They looked over and winked. “Though, I’d say you led a pretty good life.”
Liana hugged her knees as dead grass rustled in the wind.