Warm, dusty air clouded the room. Morning godrays broke through the blinds, yet all was still and dark. Little disturbed the musty orange dust that wavered about.
Ding.
A flash of light rang throughout the gloom. In the half-lit field, a figure arose. Beneath its feet, it felt the smooth and varnished wooden floors that gave it its way of standing.
Cough.
The light’s echo gave way to its origin: metal block of rectangular shape. The figure crept its way towards the object, dropping a wheeze or few along its small journey.
Click.
Another flash of light had arisen, only this time, the glare remained and did not falter. Its obnoxious light rang clear ahead, and gave the figure before it its appearance. Clad in red and gold, with blue eyes squinting from shock of light, it raised its arm upwards. Brilliant red light shined through its arm, the bones clear but existent. The face that housed its blue eyes furrowed its brow. From the object before it came,
“001 texted, you should really invest in an alarm, firespitter.”
The red figure remained quiet. In all of its glory, it took in the cold light of the phone before it, and basked in the sunlight from through the windows. Light cast through its clear bones spread upon the phone, yet the phone’s light itself denied it any entry. Its screen showed what each day’s work was without fail.
DECEMBER 2, 2017
TOGETHER WE ACHIEVE
REMEMBER YOUR PURPOSE
GREAT THINGS AWAIT YOU
Another message rang clear through the dark.
“001 texted, Get up, or I’ll put you six feet down.”
Something stirred within the red mass. Anger had quivered, but suppressed itself as quickly as it had rose. Almost like a breath, the red figure swore silently. As some sort of natural penalty, a cough was drawn through its voice.
“001 texted, Tahu, if you do not show up in the next ten minutes I will-”
The offending message from the phone was silenced in a sudden move: fluid, yet unpredictable. Tahu, as he was named, stood in a moment of tranquility. His plastic body had warmed to the sunlight, and his day had begun. He reached for a pair of blades, ones that he remembered being forged with almost a year past, and put them on his back.
click
Shifting himself slightly towards the phone, he saw in the black screen his reflection. In his image, he was still of noble, fiery magnificence, clad in bold colors of crimson and gold, splashed with blue eyes. His bones were translucent and red, absorbing the light that shined upon him. The swords on his back were black, ending in streaks of fire. Yet, in all his sheer visage, the man who he himself prided a year before was no longer there. The peak of his prime, he thought, extinguished. His world came to an end a year ago, but he was still here, doomed to walk in the shadow of his own legacy. A legacy of fire and brimstone, of which he remained only its ashes.
He noticed something in the false mirror. Red was interspersed evenly throughout his body, but not this certain thing on his chest. He wiped it off, revealing a familiar piece of plastic. The remainder of yesterday’s work and toil. He cast it onto a large heap of parts, strewn about with bits of plastic, illuminated by the mourning sunlight.
Clunk.
His work was violent, but it was necessary as he always had assured himself. Plastic that he was built upon was not unique; everyone in this world was plastic. When their lives had come to an end, it was time to disassemble and reassemble. Tahu was the one who had to take care of the dead, and it was with his skills he kept the other scavengers away that tried to claim their pickings.
Again, he looked towards his reflection. He saw nothing, other than what was left of him.
-matterboy