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Creaks and exhales of steam emanate from the ancient factory’s great innards as the two androids emerge from its depths. Sunlight is a welcome respite, and their footsteps shift from the clang of metal to the clack of boots on concrete to, finally, the muffled whisper of grass. At last they slow their pace. 2B would have personally felt perfectly at home on worn pavement, but her partner doesn’t hesitate to savor the softer, cooler ground.
“That was quite something,” 9S comments with a stretch and a deep sigh. “Glad to be finally out of there.”
2B doesn’t engage in the potential conversation. Pod 042 floats hesitantly behind her, and as she turns back toward it, she fixes her gaze on the bright, gray sky. Beating between gaps in the clouds, the sun reflects off the dark water and radiates off the pavement, the same as always. Well—almost the same as always. As she looks more toward the horizon, 2B notices a marked difference: behind the silhouette of the factory, dour rainclouds grumble as they draw closer, unleashing a dry wind upon the shore. 2B’s synthetic skin crackles in the gust.
Pod 042’s announcement breaks the silence. “Alert: severe storm approaching from the south.” A slight questioning tilt of 2B’s head is all that’s needed to prompt further explanation. “Given the weather system’s position and approach over the factory, corrosive effects anticipated. Proposal: find shelter immediately.”
“Corrosive?” While not particularly pleasant, rainstorms aren’t typically dangerous to androids, to her knowledge. Mystified, 2B refocuses on their route back to the city ruins.
But 9S is already leading the way. And, ever the bank of ostensibly random information, he doesn’t leave her wondering for long. “Apparently, when air quality was a major problem in the Old World,” he narrates, “precipitation would mix with pollutants from the atmosphere and turn into acid rain. It could be bad news for anyone caught outside, or anything made of metal or rock. Even for us.”
“Interesting.” 2B doesn’t speak further, but her brain unit continues to replay the information nonetheless.
They pass into the shadow of an old elevated highway as they run beneath its length. And by the time they emerge at the other end of the segment, the heavy clouds have already caught up with them. The storm lets loose: in moments, it’s displaced the warm air and enveloped the androids and their Pods in a cold, wet cocoon of rain.
The moisture isn’t foreign to 2B. But the sulfuric smell and the burning sensation are. The raindrops pelt her relentlessly, and her entire outer layer feels like it’s slowly dissolving. Whether or not she’s in immediate danger, her skin being on metaphorical fire is enough to prompt some urgency.
They can’t go back to the factory, and trying to make it all the way back to the Resistance camp in these conditions would be a losing battle. The earth is already growing saturated and boggy beneath their feet. Anywhere close to ground level holds the danger of getting caught in mud or rushing water. The city ruins, though devoid of human residents for thousands of years, are—2B reluctantly makes the inward judgment for their current situation—luckily populated with the concrete shells of numerous multi-story buildings, weathered, but still standing. Good enough.
The rain’s deluge is so impenetrable that 2B could nearly lose sight of 9S even though he’s only meters ahead. “In here!” he shouts above the clamor, and disappears beneath the rusted beams of an old entryway into the darkness of one of the buildings. 2B and her Pod don’t hesitate to follow.
2B grits her teeth against the faint stinging in her artificial epidermis. It’s far from the worst pain she’s experienced, but the novelty of it somehow makes it more irritating than the usual battle wound. Pod 042 levitates behind her, and even in the low light, she discerns a slight tarnish to its metal frame. She lifts her eyebrows in surprise. She had assumed that the effects of such a weather system would be more long-term and less immediate. Corrosive indeed…
The sodden first floor has already taken on a layer of water, fed by transient rivers thick with debris, but a stairwell leads the androids to a dilapidated second story. A column of water in one distant corner rushes through a gaping hole to the floor below. But for the most part, the construction satisfies the androids’ main concerns: it’s dry and sheltered.
And now, they must wait it out.
For how quickly it reached them, the storm doesn’t seem intent on stopping in any hurry. It stretches across the expanse of the city ruins as far as 2B can see out the empty windows— which, at this point, isn’t far. In any case, it’s a harsh blanket of unchanging gray, which is all she needs to know for the moment.
Under her Pod’s light, she can see that there’s not much to keep them busy inside, either. In the time that 2B had been assessing the situation, 9S had gone snooping in a pile of rubble and apparently found some old machine parts, which he had quickly pocketed. But if it’s anything like all the other buildings in the city ruins, the one they’ve found themselves in is story after empty story of the same. At most, 2B wouldn’t be surprised if machine lifeforms had taken shelter inside as well, but she quickly decides against expending the energy to needlessly seek them out.
“This is a tricky situation,” 9S offers from further in the interior, putting words to what 2B had resigned to simply thinking. “Really, with all the problems that human pollution apparently caused, I can’t imagine why they let it go on for so long.”
Quietly enough that she doubts 9S will even hear over the echo of rain outside, 2B replies “No point in wondering.” Remnants of the human population had escaped to the moon ages ago, an incomprehensible distance from the consequences of their own actions. Humanity left behind only weathered remains clinging to their own fading existence, their facades slowly wearing away.
2B has never considered boredom a prevailing problem, but her current predicament doesn’t offer much else… Aside from perhaps the highly remote danger of some kind of structural collapse under the immense amount of water. But considering how long these buildings have already been standing, somehow, 2B doubts it’s a threat worth considering.
She continues to stand in a corner, half-heartedly testing her Pod’s unsurprisingly weak connection as she watches 9S mill about, clearly more frustrated than she. Whether or not they’re preoccupied with a mission, he’s always searching for some kind of stimulation. His main obstacle now is that here, there’s very little.
“Oh well,” he grumbles faintly. “Nothing to be done about it.”
9S picks his way through the rubble, Pod 153 trailing dutifully behind him. He gives a brief tactile exploration of the wall next to him, revealing small instances of plant life within the crevices of the old concrete. It’s apparently enough to engage his thought processes for just a moment before his attention returns to the uniformity of the rest of the building.
He seems about to settle back into boredom when the constant white noise of the rain is broken by a furious rumble, echoing through the depths of the concrete corridors. The young android flinches, scoping for the threat with tension in every synthetic muscle fiber. But the thunder fades. After a few long, drawn-out moments, he gives an almost imperceptible groan, halfway between a whimper and a grumble. He returns to 2B’s side and sits down against the wall with a dramatic sigh.
There’s no particular reason for them to wait in such close proximity to each other, 2B considers silently. But then, there’s no particular reason to spread out, either. At least, as far as 9S is presumably concerned.
Herself, she would much prefer her usual approach of keeping her distance. But somehow, it seems, the sulfuric rain has eaten away at even that pretense.
Is that how she truly prefers it? Or is that what she chooses because she has to?
It’s futile to question it. The only question of real consequence is that of life or death. And in order to stay alive, she must obey orders. Even if that means executing him when the time comes.
Not if. When. It always does. The 9S now will not last. So there’s no point in staying close.
2B tries not to allow herself to dwell on it. But, somehow, as inevitable as anything else, she does. And, she muses, 9S is certainly familiar with the concept of humans, if not androids, doing pointless things.
Nevertheless, his mouth hangs open just slightly in surprise as she sits next to him. She holds in her own sigh of resignation and draws up her knees.
9S shakes his head rapidly to dislodge more of the dripping moisture from his silver hair, and 2B fails to stifle the slightest of smiles. She grits her teeth against the warmth rising in her black box. The two androids settle against each other, shoulder to shoulder, and beneath everything else, remorse pounds at her core like a heartbeat.
It’s those feelings, cursed things, that she’s burdened with. Those things YoRHa endeavors to prohibit, and yet that somehow find themselves in android programming anyway. And worst of all, they’re relentless. Unlike so many of their enemies (though maybe not as many as she would like), they don’t stay dead when 2B thinks she’s cut them down.
Her skin still feels raw from the aftermath of the corrosive downpour, but as she glances between her and 9S, there doesn’t seem to be any damage from a visual standpoint. Still, the searing at her skin returns anew when 9S lays his head on her shoulder. She leans just enough to return the gesture, resting her cheekbone on the crown of his skull. The rocky, uneven floor of the ancient human structure is hardly comfortable. But at least they can take comfort in each other.
Gripping his hand distracts her from the physical pain. He holds her hand back gently. In spite of everything, he’s so relaxed. Blissfully unaware.
2B lets their faces touch. Skin against soft skin is like a salve against the faint acid burns. With their nuclear cores radiating heat, they’re dry before long. But still, 2B allows it to carry her through the worst of the storm.
She gives up on mentally tracking the precise permutations of their contact. All she knows is that when the haze clears, she’s left with the weight of having done unforgivable things.
She’s touched and been touched. Not disrobed—but she might as well have, with how deep the traces of their contact seep into her skin. 9S’s warmth lingers on her fingertips, and in so many other places where they reassured each other of their presence. Judging by the moisture and temperature around her mouth, they must have kissed several times. Everything that she’s let get carried away… It all washes over her at once. And it all leaves a deep abyss in her abdominal unit.
9S’s utter contentment—and worse, the fact that it’s mirrored in her own—eats away at her insides far more indelibly than the acid rain at her exterior. When the weather clears, it’s like she’s reemerged from a dark dream. It clings to her cruelly, and she clings back.
Absolutely none of this helps, she reminds herself. It only hurts. Now, and later when it manifests as hesitation: one of the few things that can endanger her very existence.
The two androids and their silent Pods eventually reemerge into beams of sunlight broken by dissipating clouds. 9S appears unfazed, shaken more by the thunder than anything else. The earth is still mired in mud, and 2B extricates herself from its grip at each step. But more than the state of their surroundings after the passing storm, the things that she’s so long carried as her own sins hold her at their mercy.