Work Text:
wx bore their sockets into the science machine before them. they were alone in the camp, the only time when they could indulge in this.
they reached out, pulling the jutting lever on the contraption and marveled as the two cogs began turning over and over.
it was mostly quiet aside from the sound of their creaking joints as they hugged the fellow machine. spinning cogs mimic the expanding feeling of lungs
the person reembodied as a robot attempts to receive affection from an inorganic tool thinking that maybe it is it’s mother.
they hold tight onto the machine while their processors try to fix the error of processing wood as coarse hair and stones for skin.
their head rests atop the pulled lever, it perfectly encapsulates the feeling of resting their head on the crook of a shoulder.
the science machine lets out plumes of thick exhaust, they identify this as their mother’s chain smoker breath.
they fruitlessly scan their inner works for any intact footage with a human referred to as their mother. they find a single frame of a precious moment being held by someone familiar who maybe fit the role, it is quickly corrupted before any fine details can be made out.
footsteps approaching behind them go unnoticed in their trance.
“wx?” they quickly let go of the science machine turning to the intruder, their scanners make them aware of the scientist, wilson’s presence.
they ignore this realization and reroute themself to handle the task of watering a nearby crop farm.
“are you alright? i won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.” the man is following them now.
they move to grab the watering can resting on a stool besides the garden. “you’re sparking a bit, i can handle this for you if you need to rest.”
they stop momentarily to calculate the possible consequences of emptying the watering can’s contents onto the man’s head.
“i am fine higgsbury.” they return to their work.
“can you at least tell me what it was about?”
“i was remembering my mother.”