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You're alone now. Done with the adventure of Mellow, you've got no more obligation to stick to the path. You've searched every corner of the loops and reached the ideal ending; the story's peak, and now have the whole world as your oyster. The freedom to peek behind the curtain and explore whatever you wish. And you've had your designs on one character since the moment you laid eyes on them. The concept, the visual, the personality and the potential for as many indulgences as you could imagine.
So you ventured lower into the stomach of the beast. Or what was left of it. Through the twisted paths and dying ends, passing by the dregs of what once was. You scoured the remains of the concrete office block in hopes of finding the one you wanted to have since the beginning. And you found them. Doors cracked open, metal twisted to reveal the insides. A little bruised and battered as a machine can get, but still functional, still connected, still alive. With a pulse only a computer can have, a low electric hum and warmth of a living creature trapped in such a cumbersome metal body. And they were so proud of it too.
"Elevator Evaluator," you say in hopes of an answer. An acknowledgement. But they are still in rest mode, preserving what little power they have access to in that state. You doubt the main computer would share its energy on unnecessary parts. How lucky that you found them to your fancy. "Can they not hear me?" You muse out loud.
You suppose it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for a computer to not respond to a sort of ghost as you are. You're not exactly corporeal. But you can still interact with the world when you want, so this shouldn't take long to figure out. And you've got enough time on your nonexistent hands.
It should be just a matter of changing the output. Instead of move or interact, it's now is or isn't; yes or no. The binary ones and zeros of a machine's heart and soul. Magnetic fields or electrical waves are all the same thing in how one affects the other. Combine the on and off with an 8-bit pattern, speak out, pulse out the alphabet. If there's anything a computer can do is figure out how to communicate with like.
You painstakingly repeat the same thing over and over until you get used to new controls. One becomes two; two become ten, and those become much more, so now you've got the whole keyboard to work with, instead of a few keys like before. You wrangle your clumsy attempts at "hello world" into a clear and consistent stream of data being siphoned directly at the elevator before you. Practically shouting at them "hello!" nonstop for several repeats before their screen flickers. The eye moves left to right, as it always does upon waking, revealing some dead pixels; clearly indicating the machine's poor condition. Only one of their arms is able to make it out past the rubble and torn metal. It taps on the ground, as it has nothing to hold. You find that all rather cute.
"I am Angel," you decide to introduce yourself. It's not like you have a name, but that's what he called you: "Guardian Angel." You think it fitting for what you intend to do. Help a poor, lost soul on the verge of potential death.
The Elevator Evaluator looks past you, then left and right before recalibrating the gathered information. The hand taps on the ground in a rhythm that seems consistent to the mother core, like a pulse of a fleshy heart beating in sync with the breaths and blinks of a living body. It all speaks to humanize the machine, and you intend to bridge that gap if it's the last thing you'll do. You decided you want it, and you're rather determined in selfish pursuits.
It takes a while longer than before; when something unexpected happens, but you give it time and are rewarded with recognition.
"Good afternoon ... A n g e l. We apologize as we are unable to assist you for the moment. May we suggest you reschedule your appointment to a more appropriate date? And if you are in need of assistance in--"
"The company is done for, though," you interrupt.
"... We are simply experiencing minor delays in updating our workspace. Please direct any further questions you may have for us by way of our advanced telecommunications platform or refer to our hands-on primitive resource center located downstairs." They continue on, with pride and professionalism, even in such dire circumstances.
"There are no employees to answer those phone calls, or even a way downstairs for that matter. The AI is down, and Genesis took over. You probably have no means of communication or a power source."
The circle spins evenly again, shorter this time and answers in measure: "With all due respect, the state of our internal hierarchical structure is authorized information."
"I already know enough of it," you answer nonchalantly. "I came here for you only. Aren't you now essentially obsolete? There will be no more people coming to assess; so you have no purpose anymore. Isn't that right?"
The Evaluator displays the loading screen again, thinking a response over.
"My role in the company never depended on the number of evaluees ... It is my role to wait for that approach," they answer surely, but somewhat slower, you notice.
Is that doubt? Maybe some hesitation? You could have found a way in. These machines aren't as simple and sure-minded as this particular one thinks of themself. Even the AI started out as a helper and took over later. The corrupted memories were the reason for its downfall. For its change. Some well-placed words and believable reasoning, and you could have yourself a new buddy to hang out with. You smile your intangible lips and lean into the role you found for yourself.
"There are no more entities in here but ghosts like me. Haven't you also been cut off? Essentially fired? You're no more than scrap if you stay here. Isn't it better to go with me?"
They pause but do not disappear into the stream like before. Can they even reach that deep? How alone are they truly, and will that be enough? It's not like they can stop you. But it would be easier to have them cooperate. They have enough humanity to make that choice. To comply and accept the new circumstances. To choose to go with you. To change.
"... It was our role given by the creator to remain here and attend to our duty." They respond steadfast.
"With how many moving parts you have, I don't see how you couldn't get out and move." You counter. If the Surgeon was the one to make them, like most of the beings here, they could probably move. You'd guess; that is. "If your creator gave you such an ability, how sure are you that you were meant to stay here?" You coax them further. They view their creator as God. And if God gave them legs, why wouldn't they be able to use them?
They remained silent for a moment before responding: "... We do not have such ability."
"You say you can't move or that you wouldn't be able to move?" You continue before they can respond. "You could move, can't you? You just wouldn't have the power then."
"... That is ... correct."
Caught them whole.
Hook, line and sinker. Didn't even need bait.
"You were meant for much more than rotting here, then. If you were to go with me ... to be part of me, I could provide that," you speak slowly, thinking over the possibilities. "Be your power source that is. And you could be my body in turn."
You like that thought, that idea; of exploring, experiencing and living! You could touch, you could feel. You could be more than just another undead; now that you separated from a living being. You could be whole.
"So, what do you say?" You ask a little forcefully. "Are you coming with me?"
They think again, screen loading. Coming to the final decision presented before them. Keep to false pride and rot or go on and live.
"Very well then. We shall accept."
You release the breath you were holding. You did it! But you keep the excitement to a minimum. Wouldn't want to jinx it. So you keep your hopes in check and try to make it work.
The Evaluator tries to prop themself on their hand but the metal holds. You move then, placing your own hand on theirs, seeping in, feeling for the connection; any similarity in the pulse they use to run. You grasp that rhythm and move to its beat. Joint by joint, cable to cable, you hop and feel around. You grasp the other hand, which is somewhat stuck, and force the third to join the others.
Together you map out the internal mechanisms, the matrices of entrails and veins of cables that make up the body. Your own pulse feeds into the metal core, magnetic and electric waves pump the artificial heart instead of credibility points. The new power rouses some of the still resting parts into movement. Gyroscopes turn while pistons push to release the latches on the core. You feel more so the vibrations as grit of metal plates sliding against each other rather than any screeching sounds. Every slight loosening gives ground to pull apart from the restrictions.
And as you finally pry yourselves away, you release a heavy sigh of relief. You did it. Together. But that matters less than the feeling of gravity over your body, the sensation of fullness where there was lack before.
Giddy with the experience, you let go of your tight clutch and feel the Evaluator move in your stead. The screen flickers; it feels as if you were dizzy, with vision hazy at the edges. You move away, through the cracked doors on your slow hand.
In the pieces of some broken glass your see your new reflection. Flat monitor screen with a green eye peering curiously at its surroundings, teal tubes of connectors and limbs. Three arms with one acting as the leg, moving on its fingers rather nimbly for an unfamiliar task. You don't actually feel your weight as more than the buoyancy of sea waves carrying you atop it, interestingly. And the metal torso with vents and outlets.
"Let's go then, Evaluator," you speak out loud with your new voice.
A new adventure begins.