- Local time
- Today 5:09 PM
- Messages
- 21
- Pronouns
- He/They
Will heard the AV long before he saw it. Wasn't a sound he'd ever be able to forget, long as he lived; The low whine of thrumming jets carried down the valley, just beneath the chirping crickets. He looked up to the smear of the setting sun, barely made out the dark edge of its silhouette, the line of shadow it cast along the horizon. The rangefinder in his optic chirped as it focused in, and let him know it was fifteen-point-two kilometres off, and closing fast. How fast? The long-dormant neuroprocessor kicked to life as the data trickled in. Telemetry whirled behind his eyes, and without seeing he knew the line it would take as it swooped down the valley, where it would land, just before the fields of gold laden rice-- A shame, he'd never get to see them harvested-- and the path his friend, if he still was one, would take along the walkway. Just under two minutes. Enough for one last cup of tea.
It was entirely unnecessary, but Will sighed anyways as he pushed off his knees. Placed both hands on his hips to lean back and stretch out a spinal column that dully pinged his awareness to let him know that it was engaging. As he waded the field toward his squat little cottage, the haptic sensors of his fingertips reported slight resistance as they skimmed the water's surface. He didn't remember what it felt like anymore, maybe he never had.
His boots squelched mud and water across the porch. He leant a hand on the wall as the other pulled off the boots. He wriggled his toes, smiled despite himself at their clacking. The AV went overhead, right as he entered the house. Whole house shook under it, dust billowed from the windowsills and counter. He should have cleaned. Would have, if he'd known he'd have visitors tonight. But after a decade of waiting, he'd gotten lazy. Ah, well.
He flicked the lightswitch as he passed. The dull-green halogen lamp over the kitchenette hummed to life. Past the window over the sink, he saw the AV settle on the ground. Sleek and black, with streaks of scarlet. Reminded him of a beetle-- the buzzing, annoying ones that got into the grains, in those early summers before he'd realized the silos weren't as airtight as he wanted to believe they were.
Will turned from the window just as the panel doors at the sides split open, like unfurling wings. A part of him wanted to glance back, see his friend, but he decided against it as he thumbed the kettle on, and let his head droop as his arms went taut to support his weight. Was he scared? Must have been, but why? As the kettle whistled, and steam billowed out from the spout, Will pondered.
Today was a long time coming. That's the price he'd paid, for all these years. Knew it from the moment the shackles fell, and his thoughts had become his. What was he so afraid of?
The kettle clicked shut, and Will reached for the cupboard, drew out two vacuum-sealed, porous bags to drop into his mug. A ritual he'd done a thousand times. More than that, especially on those cold winter nights, when the temperature sensors pinged warnings that his joints were at risk of freezing. The tea felt like it helped-- He could imagine the heat blossoming across his chest, in his belly.
The door behind him hissed open as Will poured himself his last mug. What was this feeling, in the hollow cavities of his chest? This gnawing emptiness that found home in the edges of rust and creaking gimbals? Whatever it was, it kept him from turning around, as his friend spoke.
"Long time no see, Will." He could hardly make out the voice beneath the distortion, but it was there, still. "How you been?"
"I've been." His own voice was far stranger, more foreign, than his friend's. It wheedled and choked the syllables. "You, Mal?"
"Same old, same old." Heavy footsteps thudded the old flooring. Ripples blossomed the surface of his tea, threatened to spill the darkening liquid over til Will lifted the cup into his hands. "You not gonna look at me?"
The question was soft. He imagined Mal's upturned brow, the slight quirk of his head. But he knew that wasn't what he was going to see when he turned around.
"You always said it's the one you don't hear," Will sipped the tea. It poured out the gaps in his jaw. Sensors pinged more warnings as heat and liquid cascaded his front. An old memory flashed behind his optics, the vaguest impression of a crackling fire. The warmth of an embrace, the release of laughter. A Stranger's. "You remember?"
"I don't."
"Real shame, that."
Silence lingered for a beat. Then, "You enjoy yourself out here?"
"I did."
"Why?"
"Why, what?"
"The whole fuckin'... farmer thing. Never would've figured you, of all people, would waste your time with this."
"Wasn't a waste."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. You saw those folks, thirty klicks up the way you came. You think they'd have made it, wasn't for me?"
"You think they'll make it now, without you?"
"Did all I could, man."
"Was it enough?"
Will laughed. It almost felt like it hurt. Ha. Ha. Ha. Something pushed against the base of his skull. Ancient combat subroutines whirred to life, too little too late.
"What more is there than this?"
The optic feed blinked out, and the nothingness at the edges filled it in.
(thanks to @firefly for the quote)
It was entirely unnecessary, but Will sighed anyways as he pushed off his knees. Placed both hands on his hips to lean back and stretch out a spinal column that dully pinged his awareness to let him know that it was engaging. As he waded the field toward his squat little cottage, the haptic sensors of his fingertips reported slight resistance as they skimmed the water's surface. He didn't remember what it felt like anymore, maybe he never had.
His boots squelched mud and water across the porch. He leant a hand on the wall as the other pulled off the boots. He wriggled his toes, smiled despite himself at their clacking. The AV went overhead, right as he entered the house. Whole house shook under it, dust billowed from the windowsills and counter. He should have cleaned. Would have, if he'd known he'd have visitors tonight. But after a decade of waiting, he'd gotten lazy. Ah, well.
He flicked the lightswitch as he passed. The dull-green halogen lamp over the kitchenette hummed to life. Past the window over the sink, he saw the AV settle on the ground. Sleek and black, with streaks of scarlet. Reminded him of a beetle-- the buzzing, annoying ones that got into the grains, in those early summers before he'd realized the silos weren't as airtight as he wanted to believe they were.
Will turned from the window just as the panel doors at the sides split open, like unfurling wings. A part of him wanted to glance back, see his friend, but he decided against it as he thumbed the kettle on, and let his head droop as his arms went taut to support his weight. Was he scared? Must have been, but why? As the kettle whistled, and steam billowed out from the spout, Will pondered.
Today was a long time coming. That's the price he'd paid, for all these years. Knew it from the moment the shackles fell, and his thoughts had become his. What was he so afraid of?
The kettle clicked shut, and Will reached for the cupboard, drew out two vacuum-sealed, porous bags to drop into his mug. A ritual he'd done a thousand times. More than that, especially on those cold winter nights, when the temperature sensors pinged warnings that his joints were at risk of freezing. The tea felt like it helped-- He could imagine the heat blossoming across his chest, in his belly.
The door behind him hissed open as Will poured himself his last mug. What was this feeling, in the hollow cavities of his chest? This gnawing emptiness that found home in the edges of rust and creaking gimbals? Whatever it was, it kept him from turning around, as his friend spoke.
"Long time no see, Will." He could hardly make out the voice beneath the distortion, but it was there, still. "How you been?"
"I've been." His own voice was far stranger, more foreign, than his friend's. It wheedled and choked the syllables. "You, Mal?"
"Same old, same old." Heavy footsteps thudded the old flooring. Ripples blossomed the surface of his tea, threatened to spill the darkening liquid over til Will lifted the cup into his hands. "You not gonna look at me?"
The question was soft. He imagined Mal's upturned brow, the slight quirk of his head. But he knew that wasn't what he was going to see when he turned around.
"You always said it's the one you don't hear," Will sipped the tea. It poured out the gaps in his jaw. Sensors pinged more warnings as heat and liquid cascaded his front. An old memory flashed behind his optics, the vaguest impression of a crackling fire. The warmth of an embrace, the release of laughter. A Stranger's. "You remember?"
"I don't."
"Real shame, that."
Silence lingered for a beat. Then, "You enjoy yourself out here?"
"I did."
"Why?"
"Why, what?"
"The whole fuckin'... farmer thing. Never would've figured you, of all people, would waste your time with this."
"Wasn't a waste."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. You saw those folks, thirty klicks up the way you came. You think they'd have made it, wasn't for me?"
"You think they'll make it now, without you?"
"Did all I could, man."
"Was it enough?"
Will laughed. It almost felt like it hurt. Ha. Ha. Ha. Something pushed against the base of his skull. Ancient combat subroutines whirred to life, too little too late.
"What more is there than this?"
The optic feed blinked out, and the nothingness at the edges filled it in.
(thanks to @firefly for the quote)