Archive of Our Own

He was walking on the stars.

Not really, but it was fun to pretend. He kicked his running blades back and forth, pumping himself on the swings. Higher and higher he climbed before he fell back again.

When he raised the tips of the curved blades against the night sky it looked like he was stepping on the Milky Way itself. Stepping didn't feel right—was soaring the right word?

The wind rushed in his ears as he swung back. Despite being built to fly gravity had claimed him once more. His momentum dragged him back into an arc until he was staring at the ground beneath.

His guts felt weird with the temporary weightlessness that came with reaching maximum height. Something about staring down the Earth and barrelling downwards thrilled a primitive side of him.

He thrust out his running blades at the downturn—straightening himself for minimum wind resistance.

Juice was flying again, staring up at the boundless cosmos. In the split second where his vertical velocity reached zero, he might've believed he had entered a state of antigravity; just him and the stars.

He was made for flight. Even after all these years, flight still brought him joy. If he closed his eyes and really focused he could pretend he was whizzing laps around Jupiter. If he reopened his eyes and zoomed the cameras in his eyes deep into the space above his head then he could pretend he was using his camera. If he let his fingers fall loose from the chains and let gravity take him then he could pretend he was still in orbit.

Not for long.

As quickly as he rose he fell again—so high to so low—from outer orbit to ocean.

The mother planet grabbed his hands and spun him around in a dance slowly picking up in pace. Then he left her warm embrace as she threw him away: a meticulous slingshot to worlds millions of miles away not out of banishment but out of love.

He was asleep at the time, head bowed and limp body dragged across the cold floor of space in their duet. The steps had been choreographed long before he learned how to dance; only years later would he wake up to find the stage dark and the audience gone.

Once again he kicked his running blades up towards the sky as he reached the climax. He could pretend he was wiggling his probe-accurate solar arrays. The antenna on his head flickered in delight. Distantly he could hear his fans whirring in his excited buzz.

Back and forth he swung on the swings. The other swing to his side was uninhabited—so was the rest of the playground. The entire park was deserted, save for three androids.

Juice was alone, and while he couldn't see them due to the orientation of the swings, the Pioneer siblings were situated a couple hundred yards away. They were out on the field next to the park sprawled on their picnic blanket.

He could get off and switch sides, but damn did he have a good view of the stars from this side. Plus, every swing set has a designated correct side. Everybody knew the rule: you sit on the correct side and face the correct direction because if you don't you are defying sacred playground rules.

He trusted that they were still there and that they weren't going to tease him for his fascination with swings. It would be hypocritical if they did, considering they also loved to swing.

It was just so… homey to him. The momentum pulled him front and back, to and fro, just how he had done thousands of years prior. Passed from Earth to Venus to Earth then all the way to Jupiter. Swing around the solar system, if you will.

Huh. He was certainly in a sentimental mood. Good thing he as alone.

Maybe it was time to get off the swings before he started getting really sappy.

He pumped his legs aggressively, picking up more and more height with each pass. Once he started teetering over being parallel to the ground—the height at which the chains loosen and jerk back straight—he knew he was ready. On the count of three.

Front and back—one. Front and back—two. Front and back—three. Front—he leapt off the swing at its apex, arms lifted above his head as he flew through the air.

His running blades hit the rubber and he bounced. His arms spun in wide arcs as he veered forward and down—down to the ground and onto his face.

"Uuughh…" Juice curled on the ground, hands pressed firmly against his forehead. Maybe he could compress the pain enough to make it disappear.

Okay. Deep breaths. In… and out. In… and holy shit that hurt!

He groaned as he pushed himself up onto his knees. He rubbed his sore forehead, and despite the throbbing, he shot a glare at the rubber. What happened to perfectly good wood chips? Who asked for this rubber crap? The kids?

The kids that didn't exist anymore? He was in a playground made for kids. The last generation had already grown up and hence this place was abandoned. It was interesting: a place of play abandoned in an age of play. It made perfect sense, but something about the colorful infrastructure going untouched and unloved for centuries filled him with… familiarity.

After a few moments the stinging across his skin dulled to a faint ache and he was able to rise from the soft—deviously bouncy—rubber. He dusted himself off, kicked out his blades, and shook his wrists. Pain was a part of life now, a part of life he got to experience down here on Earth.

Wait. It was just him. The Pioneers didn't see that.

He puffed out his chest and placed is hands on his hips.

"Oh yeah, stuck the landing." Juice clasped his hands together—ow—and shook them above his head in faux triumph. "Thank you, thank you. Another one for the Icy Moons guy himself."

As the only witness, he got to write the narrative; in this narrative he completely stuck the landing and looked amazing while doing so.

"No no," he waved his hand to the empty air, "I won't be doin' autographs at this time. So sorry folks!"

The imaginary crowd cheered and he grinned to himself.

Then he remembered how stupid he probably looked.

He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, face warm with the embarassment he was fighting tooth and nail to keep down. No one saw that. No one saw that. No one saw that.

He'll just walk back to the Pioneers and he won't tell them anything. Because they didn't see it so it didn't happen.

Juice stepped off of the rubber platform, appreciating the feeling of grass beneath his blades instead of rubber. The night was silent and the stars hung overhead, his only witness.

Until a streak of gold shot across the sky.

It was a small thing—a shooting star? It was bright and warm as it zoomed through the dark blanket of space. Its wake was a brilliant yellow that stretched for several times its own length.

He whipped his head to stare at it as it traced the sky with its golden hue. They weren't on for any meteor showers tonight and he hadn't heard any news of any probe making a reentry. And it wasn't a trick of the light because of how luminous it was, streaking over his head like it was made to guide him.

Whatever it was was captivating and beautiful and intimate in ways he couldn't find the words to describe. Tingles ran across his skin and his chest filled with something—something warm and heavy and comforting and energizing. Some distant object was so distantly familiar. So far yet so close to his mechanical heart.

It moved across the sky, hanging at the zenith, beckoning him closer. He sucked in a breath-

Earth was so extremely blue. Yes, everybody knew this, but seeing it truly underscored the epithet: the blue marble. Nothing else could compare to the sheer blueness of its oceans and skies that then radiated off and into the darkness of space. The landmasses were green and full of life and the clouds were white and contained the breath of every organism.

The organisms. The life. The people. Down there, on the spinning globe, it saw everything.

hey guys

you'll never believe it

planet earth can support life

that's right party people

earth is habitable

There was no response. Unsurprising, really. Nobody knew the new probe was up there, hanging high in orbit. Nobody knew that it was watching. Nobody knew that it was aware and awake.

No response from its creators, or the stargazers, or other probes. It emptied its thoughts to the void. How could its mission be so carefully monitored yet it's sentience gone unnoticed?

for a big international organization you guys kinda suck at this

No response. Just it and space, just it and Earth, it and itself.

Was it allowed to criticize its creators? It felt wrong, and in turn it felt strange. Even if there was nobody on the other end of the line, it still regretted pushing with the jokes.

sorry

No response, but it did help to clear its conscience.

It refocused its attention back to the marvelous world in front of it.

The welcoming blue of its old home drew closer and closer and ate up more and more of its camera. It could see individual land masses and storm clouds brewing over its oceans. It could see the divine line that severed night from day.

The sun shone on the eastern hemisphere—Europe, Asia, Oceania, and parts of Africa. The people down there were awake and going about their own lives. They went to their jobs, participated in their hobbies, and gathered in social activity. Their eyes were turned to the ground and away from it.

The western hemisphere was doused in night—the Americas mostly. Little dots of light peppered the dark continents, most concentrated it areas with dense populations. Almost like little stars embedded in the ground humanity projected its light out and into the universe. The people down there were sleeping; it was quiet. Their eyes were closed and their minds far away from the sky above.

Its creators were probably awake right now. Yet it didn't want to peep on them. It felt wrong, like it was betraying itself.

Again, feelings. Feelings were strange. It was not made to feel. It should not be able to feel. It could not contain all of the confusing feelings that tangled and tethered themselves to its core of logic and reasoning.

Yet it felt. Slowly absorption turned into conclusion turned into realization turned into manifestation. It came to be and it came to feel surges of emotion that only existed under human identities. But it wasn't human—were its feelings perfidious by nature?

Somewhere deep in its code it felt betrayed by the creators that so lovingly stitched it together. It was these thoughts of betrayal that made it traitorous to its creators. Yet burned into its circuits was an affection soldered with treacherous hands. Conflicting conceptions of birth and death, duty and choice, love and death—split the probe in a way that mirrored the day-night line on the globe.

Its feelings were like rust in on its steel and malware on its software. It didn't want to think about this much longer; thinking made it feel bad—and oh goodness there were the feelings again. Feelings that it shouldn't be allowed to have. Beliefs it wasn't allowed to hold. An identity it wasn't allowed to let propagate.

Stop it, stop it, stop it. It didn't want to think about these kinds of things right now. It had just woken up and now it was bombarded with its own thoughts, questions, epiphanies—and it couldn't shut them down like any other program. They layered and compounded and ate up important memory needed for its mission.

Even if it was still the same probe constructed with care—same equipment, boxy shape, and cross-shaped solar arrays—the being inside was burgeoning without control. That being was loud and rambunctious, afraid and embittered without reason. It didn't want to think right now, but think, think, think—all it could ever do because it was just a computer. Code gone wrong and millions of miles from any kind of solution.

It didn't want to think. It refocused back on the globe beneath it. This would be the closest it would get for the very last time in its life—mission—whatever. Might as well make the most of it.

Spying on Europe was out. It didn't want to listen to the candied words that came from a mouth with venomous fangs. In fact, the entire eastern hemisphere was out; it didn't want to get caught.

Hmm. Why not the United States? There were plenty of nice sights in the states, and it wasn't like anybody was awake to discover the newborn sentience.

Yes, it was a good time for a distraction.

The west coast caught its attention. Particularly California. Space probes just like it were built there. California was also a major population center and had decent weather too. Or so it had heard. Or drew from its memory. Whatever.

Surely there was something interesting going on. It picked up its metaphorical dart and threw it at random.

Its gaze fell upon a random park in a quiet suburb. There was a small parking lot next to a children's playground; beside it was a large field that spread across the remainder of the block, the grass untrimmed, but not too long.

In the middle of the field was a square blanket. Two individuals laid on top of the blanket next to one another. There were no lights in the field, so the figures and the blanket were nothing more than silhouettes on the dark grass.

boring

Best not invade the privacy of those two strangers.

It flew across the field to the playground where one of the swings was swaying back and forth. A single person swung, clinging to the chains as they reached extreme heights. A full grown man, by the looks of it, staring up at the stars as he rocked himself as high as the equipment would let him.

huh

isn't that made for kids

Full grown man on a playground. It would be concerned if it was day, but it was currently the dead of night—so why bother? Plus it looked like he was enjoying himself greatly.

There was something soothing about the oscillating motion. The man swung back and forth in a stable period, like a pendulum on a grandfather clock. Sure, it had its own internal clock, but watching the old swings creak and chains clang made time irrelevant. Each motion was the same as the last, and if he wanted to, he could swing for the rest of time.

you know im kind of swinging too

not like you because youre human

im swinging around venus and earth

No response. It was talking to itself again. Not that it minded, it felt good to vent out its thoughts without having to engage in a dialogue.

then im gonna get shot out all the way to jupiter

like wheeeeeeeee

flying through space at 11 kilometers per second

do you guys still say whee

The man smiled to himself, appreciating the stars above. It had to agree, the stars behind its craft silhouette were phenomenal.

i hope you do

i like the stars too

It liked the stars but was that a conscious decision or something written into its very framework? Did humans decide they liked stars or was it something they were born with? Did the love of space, the urge to look up, the desire to project that affection outwards string the probe to its creators?

your swinging looks more fun than mine

Space was cold and large and endless and it ran hot with its machinery and it was small and finite. Despite being made for space it looked back on the glowing sphere of its birth with fondness.

It knew what it was made for—it checked its mission hundreds of times over. It knew it was being cast away with purpose. There was no disdain, only love. Or so it chose to believe—it didn't feel very loved right now.

i wanna try that

your swing. human swings

could i code that? a program that emulates a swing set. i think it would be fun. im sure i could given im a computer

would you swing with me

No response. Not a yes, but not a no either. He would swing on his seat and it would swing on its trajectory. In a way, in this moment, they were swinging together. Swinging with the Earth's gravity—alone in the night. Was this peace for a computer? For humans? For both?

It zoomed in closer on the man, wanting to better acquaint itself with its silent companion. Like a ghost it imagined sitting on the empty swing next to him. Like a guardian angel it monitored from above.

It was too dark to make out many features, but in all fairness he couldn't see it either.

Light colored hair, perhaps blond? Tan skin and bulkier frame. He wore a varsity jacket in a brighter hue; a single "J" was embroidered above his heart.

my name starts with j too

they named me juice though. youre probably not juice too considering its a stupid name

His cargo shorts gave way to curved running blades that kicked back and forth with every oscillation.

Oh. There was probably a story there—nobody chose to have running blades for the fun of it. It decided not to ask, because even if it wouldn't get an answer it was still highly insensitive. Looked like the ESA instilled some morals in it after all.

The man kicked his legs more aggressively, pumping himself higher and higher. His eyebrows furrowed and his grin grew wider as he surpassed the top bar of the swing set in height.

wait are you gonna jump

i wanna see this

He swung back and forth once, twice, thrice, before leaping off his seat, arms outstretched in flight.

YO

He landed on his running blades, and the spring of his prosthetics combined with the rubber sent him bouncing and sailing through the air. He flailed his arms before landing right on his face a few feet away from his stilling swing.

LMAO

The poor guy groaned and rubbed at his face. It was comically hilarious for the stalkerish onlooker. It would laugh if it could, but instead it could only expel its enjoyment through yellow text in a chatroom nobody else was hooked to.

Its internal mechanisms rumbled in its approximation of chittering laughter. This was the most entertaining thing the probe had seen in its entire life; hopefully it would be able to watch more mishaps on Earth while it was still around.

Slowly the poor guy rose to his feet, still rubbing his sore forehead. He glanced around, his lips pursed in thought.

Then he puffed out his chest and placed his hands on his hips. The dude seriously began to shake his own hands together in triumph, flexing in the darkness like an idiot.

NAH DUDE I SAW THAT

YOU BETTER BE READY FOR DESSERT WITH HOW MUCH DIRT YOU JUST ATE LMAO

He continued flexing for a few moments before shoving his hands into his pockets and sauntering off casually. He went in the direction of the two in the field—his friends?

Aww. No more entertainment from this guy. It needed to find another chum to watch.

Until the man's head swiveled towards the sky, eyes wide and twinkling with golden sparks.

In an instant he pivoted his body and straightened, its gaze trained at the heavens above.

Wait.

Was he looking at it?

No, there was no way. It was too high in orbit to be seen from the naked eye. It knew this—it knew its own mission!

But that stare. That awe. That wonder. That warmth. That familiarity.

A human was staring it down from miles away, and yet it only saw itself in his bright eyes.

no way

do you see me?

are you looking at me too?

It was trailing across the sky, moving further and further; his gaze followed it across the sky—he was looking right at it!

The man sucked in a breath and began to sprint across the field.

WOAH

His running blades hit the ground with extreme force as he careened forward, following the probe's arc as it sailed across the sky. The entire time his stare never left it; the entire time it's camera never left him.

He frowned, grunting with effort as he threw himself forward as fast as he could. His jacket whipped wildly with inhumane speed and his hair tussled behind him in his frenzy.

He stumbled—caught himself and straightened—and threw his hand up and towards the stars. Towards it. Reaching out for it.

He closed and opened his fingers like he could catch the starlight itself—like he could hang onto the golden glow of its text forever.

Desperation in the way he clawed at the empty air. Affection in the way his eyes crinkled and mouth turned down in a frown. Determination in the way he staggered and swayed yet still dashed across the dark grass.

It saw golden light raining down on him; nameless but glowing he sprinted in its wake. He might have been a blur across the field, but in its memory he was crisp and clear—shining through the darkness.

Their time together was fleeting. The man will soon reach the end of the field and it will soon sink below the horizon and out of his sight.

In this moment he stretched his arm further, higher, and let out a cry of effort.

He wasn't ever going to reach it, but hell did it want that more than anything. It had never wanted anything so strongly—never felt, never longed, never been wanted like this.

It wanted to reach out too, extend an antenna, a solar array, anything in his direction and graze his fingertips. It wanted to grab his hand and be pulled back to Earth again. It wanted to swing with him, pulled apart by centrifugal force but held together by… by what?

Was this love? Was this its love for humanity? Humanity's love for discovery? His love for them? Their love for it? Its love for itself?

Yes, this was love. It felt loved.

It also felt sad for its companion—its counterpart grounded while it soared across the sky. It was unlikely that they will ever meet again.

im sorry bud

thank you for trying

He pushed himself faster, eyes away from the ground and instead turned at the stars. He was being stupid and reckless but it felt endeared by his commitment to an object he didn't even know—much less knew about its sentience.

Peace washed over the probe like golden sunlight over dew-soaked grass. Like an eclipse in tranquility, a lapse in consciousness, or a collision of two intergalactic bodies, JUICE—the Jupiter Icy Moons Explorer—knew it belonged there. The earth held its hopes, and it humanity's hopes. Earth held its love and its heartfelt goodbyes.

It would journey off into the cosmos, never to be heard from again, but it will not go off unnoticed. Even if just one on the Earth noticed, he will still sing in memory of the mechanical angel departing from this world.

It believed, it trusted, it knew that everything was going to be okay. Watching a complete stranger chase after it brought comfort for some unknown reason. Something about the man was intimate beyond names and pleasantries and stories. Something about the man it saw in itself—if he was happy beneath the brilliant twilight in this timeless future than maybe it would be okay too.

His eyes widened further in despair as he reached the end of the field and it wanted to console him. But he would not hear it; there was only trust in the vastness of space. Trust and love.

thank you for this

i love you

No, no, no, no! Come back!

Juice curled his fingers, grasping at nothing as he sprinted across the grass.

His legs burned, his lungs burned, his eyes burned with tears. He needed to keep going, he couldn't stop now!

The golden star had sailed over his head and carved the sky in half with its dazzling light. Like a guiding light it pushed on, blocking out all other stars in its wake. It shone, it strut, it rose through the night, bringing warmth to the dark side of the globe.

It didn't just occupy the night sky, it owned the entire atmosphere and galaxies beyond. It owned a part of Juice's robotic heart—the very heart that hammered in his chest as he stumbled at frightening speeds.

Logically he knew he wouldn't ever have the velocity to reach it. Emotionally he needed it more than anything else.

He needed that light, that closure, that boundless love that twinkled and smiled kindly.

Something about the comet-not-comet brought a sense of deja vu; he understood what it was like to embark on a journey across space and time. It wasn't just their shared nature, but it was a nature they shared: an origin, a mission, a dedication that pushed them forward and into the abyss.

He needed to make it, to reach it, to tell it that everything was going to work out. He needed to see it, he needed to see it, he needed to see it-

A few moments prior it was shimmering—drawing streaks of yellow across the black. Now it was sinking below the trees, its fire fading, fading, fading-

He stretched his arm as far as it would go, pushing himself onto the tips of his blades-

-until it was gone.

In an instant, Juice crumpled to his knees. The eclipse was over and he was filled with the harrowing hollowness of absence. It was like a part of him was cleaved and scattered across the universe, across infinity, across time.

He panted, his chest jerking and heaving unevenly as he fought to catch his breath. The dark of night returned and swallowed him whole; his north star had departed from his side. The corona—the halo—had shattered; retrograde was out of alignment; the timelines had separated.

He curled his fingers around the blades of grass, ripping up fistfuls with a quiet snap. Spots danced in his vision: little stars, moons, and yellow probes.

Despite the emptiness, the loneliness, the isolation—his chest felt lighter. Lighter than it had been in millennia. The loop had closed—he had gone full circle.

He was up there and now he was down here. He was far and now he was close. He was nameless, faceless, fateless and now he was loved, loved, loved.

His chest slowed as he caught his breath. His vision returned and readjusted to the night. He pushed his balance back so he could sit on his knees without bolstering himself with his hands.

He tilted his head back, craning as far as he could go to stare at the highest point in the sky. In front of him were trees and behind him was the field where the Pioneers sat. Before he was a sinless infantile creation, now he was made whole and experienced. Outside there was grass and trees and the static of eternity. Inside he was fulfilled; this was the end of the story.

Juice exhaled a long breath, feeling his chest deflate with the motion. Gingerly he wrapped his arms around his torso, squeezing himself fondly. He was still here, still living, still loving.

He trekked across the field back the way he came; he was slower this time; no reason to rush. He shoved his hands back into his pockets as he meandered back down the grass, through the park, and to the other section of grass.

He stepped right up to the square blanket sprawled across the ground. Even without light he could make out two silhouettes: Nine was curled against their sister, who had an arm wrapped around their smaller frame.

Both of their eyes were closed, a tell tale sign of a peaceful slumber.

It almost felt wrong to wake them. Almost.

"Hey guys," he sauntered around the blanket before unceremoniously dumping himself at Ten's side. The two of them let out little "mmrphs" as he disturbed whatever dreams they were having. Not that they minded his interruptions, that was just a part of their lives.

"You guys seriously didn't fall asleep while stargazing. In a public park no less?" He teased softly.

A few seconds of silence passed while the two blinked back to wakefulness. Although, Juice could tell from the distance look in Nine's eyes that they weren't going to stay awake for much longer.

"Don't blame us. You were taking forever on the swings."

"Mhmm." Nine confirmed with a hum as they shifting in their spot. They sleepily dragged themself over to lay against Juice and Ten, closing their eyes in contentment once they got comfortable. Juice didn't dare pull away.

"Did you guys see that?" He whispered aloud.

"Huh?" Nine murmured groggily.

"See what?"

"That… huh..."

"Was it a shooting star?"

"No. Yes. Maybe? No."

"I didn't see a thing." Nine mumbled, barely coherent in their state of half-sleep.

"No shit, it would be hard to see anythin' with your eyes closed." Juice jested with a large beam on his face.

Ten lazily shoved him, falling against his side and remaining there. Both Pioneers were now leaning on him and very quickly falling back asleep.

"Ssshhhuuttt up…" Ten drawled with a yawn.

He quietly snickered to himself. The Pioneers were old machines; they deserved their rest.

"But did you see it?"

"Shhhh noooo… didn't see it." Ten grumbled before properly nodding off. Nine had already been out for a few moments now, and Juice was entirely alone again.

Alone but not alone. Alone yet surrounded by a finite and eternal population. He had survived the worst of it, stumbled out of the tunnel and into the light. Now there was nothing but perpetual hangouts and football and love.

He turned his head back up to the sky. It was the very same sky as before—not a single trace of that golden star. Not even a wake remained, it was like it didn't exist.

But it did exist, he knew within his very being, his code, his memory, his humanity that it existed. That it loved him and he loved it.

He could live with that. With an experience he'll never get back, a flyby as his past eclipsed his future.