Town of Living Gears

The entirety of Town of Living Gears, which is 12 parts and spans something alike a Light Novel. Quick search parts using, “Part” and a number for ease of access.

I am incapable of feeling any human emotions or reciprocate them. Every time I am ordered to move, I hear the gears within my body turn and grind with the motion of my arms and legs. They work in tandem, and without them, I am no better than a worker who is crippled. I do not have a name, and I do not have a desire to obtain a name. My model is MCW-01, and as such I am most responsive when called by my model. It is the label I was given upon my creation, and as thus it is the most logical way to approach me. However, the one who has created me has long past, I know this. It is within my memory that he has lived but a mere eighty years, and I am that age. Humans are fickle creatures indeed, and for another twenty years, I have been kept in an old clock. I hear the ticking of the hands as each second passes by and the ring of the bell above this clock tower as noon and morning strikes. I have been counting each day in complete solitude as I lay in my coffin just directly below the clock. I believe my master has given the key to my coffin to his next successor. Despite my make, my creator had strange alterations to make me seem more like them. And as such, with each passing day, the memories of my creator, his words, and his orders, are slowly being lost. I was given a system to decipher through logic and reason. However, the decisions my creator has made goes beyond this system.

It was a strange day when the one who would open my door came. He climbed up the clock tower, traversing the stairs with what seemed to be great alacrity.  Upon reaching the base, he stopped. I heard him clap his hands together, and then there was silence. After a few moments, he moved forward, and dangled something in front of my doors. They clinked a few times before the sounds of a lock clicking resounded. The keyhole turned, and he opened my doors slowly. Light from the outside beamed into my eyes, causing me to readjust my lens. Once my doors were fully opened, he chuckled and said, “Welcome to the Town of Living Gears.”

He brought me out of my encasement, and inspected me with his rough hands. I could see that they were dirtied, and bruised. My joints were rusted, and could barely move, and even if I tried, I would dangerously creak out. The man carried me on his back, “You’re a hundred years old.” I could not compute why he would start with that, nor why that sentence would be deemed appropriate in any social setting. It was at this point that I knew that he was my creator’s successor. He was the spitting image of my creator, and despite my faded image of him, I was still able to make the distinction. He had short brown hair, large eyes and a rosy complexion. He was relatively slim for what he was, but had enough strength to at least carry me without breaking his back.

“Sorry for breaking you out this late. You were probably sleeping for quite some time now.”

“The concept of sleep is not within my domain. I am–”

“A robot. I know. My grandfather made you.”

“So you are not my creator’s direct successor.” When I had said that, he stopped. He was bringing me down the clock tower at that point, and we were near the last few steps. I tried using my detectors to see if a change in body temperature or pressure was made, but he seemed completely fine. I was incapable of understanding complex human emotions. That was a flaw my creator had left me with, and one that I am not sure why he did not fine tune himself. At that time, I had no idea that he would be the wrench I needed.

“No–” He readjusted my rusted body across his back, and then continued, “I’m not your creator’s successor, nor do I want to ever be like him. But I have a responsibility to take. And you’re that responsibility.”

“You do not wish to be like my creator?”

“Not one bit. I don’t know what you know about my grandfather. But that man is not to be revered as anything but a heretic.” I heard within his voice great anger. His heart rate fluctuated for  a second, but he remained calm throughout. Upon reaching the town, I creaked my head about, scanning the buildings. They were all different now, some were larger and had more efficient roofs, and some had smoke coming on the top of them. The streets were colored a different tone, and the images in my head were coming up as errors. I readjusted the new information I now had and replaced the old ones, creating new memories in me, creating a new life. I went temporarily into what my creator called, “reboot”. It was a state of mind for a robot like myself to reset all system workings and create a blank processing session. During my reboot, I cannot move or speak, and thus as he spoke, I could not reply, even if I could understand the logics behind it.

“I only know about what my grandfather did through stories from my father, and word of mouth. All written documents that my grandfather supposedly had are either burned or hidden in some weird crevice of this town.” The man noticed that I did not speak, but continued, “My grandfather told my father that he had left a family heirloom, and gave him this key.” He dangled the key once more, and pocketed it quickly, “It wasn’t until now that we figured out where this key goes to, and what our family has left in this town. My father couldn’t handle it, but I have an obligation, and I’ll see through that I get you to do whatever my grandfather made you for.” The man walked through the streets rather ardently until footsteps became apparent. He then shifted through the buildings, hid under boxes, and made his way slowly while avoiding anyone who moved past. It was quite some time, but he opened the door of a small well attached house that to me seemed to be about two stories. He entered, brought me down under a flight of stairs and propped me down on a large empty table. Tools scattered this basement room, with only a few candles to provide a light source. I recognized this room for some reason.

“Still not going to answer me?” It was at this moment that my reboot had finished.

“I apologize. I was undergoing mental fortifications.”

“Look. I don’t know any more about you than you do me.” He began shuffling through piles of used gears and sheet metal until he found a decently sized jerry can.

“But now’s a better time than any to get that out of the way.”

“You wish to form a communicative contract with me?”

“If that’s how you see it, then yeah. First we start with names. I’m Wren.”

“My model is MCW-01. It stands for–”

“Marianne.” Wren shuffled the jerry can and listened for the swigging of oil. He then inspected my joints and quickly noticed that there were no openings for oil to go through.

“My body consumes oil in the same manner as which you consumer water.” Wren scrunched his mouth in surprise and then brought the tip of the jerry can onto my mouth. He held onto my head as he did this, and brought the jerry can slightly forward, allowing the oil to permeate my body. Once the jerry can was finished he asked, “Need any more?” I began moving my joints in unison, and the sound of the insidious creaking was no longer present. I had no way in determining how much oil I should intake, or how much I had, it was only a matter of that creaking and the slowing of my joints that I knew.

“My model is not Marianne, it is–”

“Your name is Marianne. Do we understand?” Despite having no logic within his words, I kept quiet, in my own tacit way of agreeing. He placed the jerry can back on the ground, and then rummaged through the junk again.

“If you will, Wren, please give me understanding in the name Marianne.”

“If I tell you would you understand?”  That question created a paradox within me.  If he were to tell me, they surely I would understand if he spoke in a manner devoid of riddles. However, human emotions and human meaning were foreign to me. To understand the inner workings of their words was something I was at the time, incapable of doing.  And even now, I am still incapable of fully understanding human language. It is with time that I build this up within my system.

“Perhaps you can try.”

“Perhaps I can, but would you understand?” He laid the question on me again, and once again, I could not give him a proper answer.

“You wouldn’t, and thus I will give no time to explain why your name is Marianne.” His words were cold, and dismissive, I know that now. But I took it upon me to adhere to what he had agreed, a communicative contract, and thus he by verbal contract was obligated to uphold mutual understanding. The only way to achieve mutual understanding is by both parties to express their opinions and views with clear alacrity, how much thereof.

“Wren, I advise you to explain to me what the meaning of my name is as much as I advise you to ask about me, and understand my inner workings.” Wren grabbed onto what seemed to be an iron rod from his pile of junk. There were symbols on it, and he wiped most of the rod to better see the symbols. My eyes matched them with the language of humans that my creator had embedded in me, it was a sort of old writing. Wren looked at it with confusion, but I took it in me to move and grab the rod from him. He didn’t object, and I read, “Klover Tore.” It was a name that sparked something within me. My database was desperately searching for the matching terms, and once it did, I believed I smiled, despite my lack of human emotions. Klover had given me all sorts of human expressions which I seldom used.

“My grandfather kept an iron rod around huh.”

“Is the language too old?” I was referring to the fact that he could not read. He took the rod from me, and inspected the symbols on them again, tracing his fingers.

“No clue. Probably not.” As he got up, he swung the rod as if chopping down a tree, and broke the air in the room.

“My grandfather was no fighter. But maybe you are.” He threw the rod at me, which I instinctively caught, and as I did, he charged at me with a bronze knife in which he swiftly grabbed from his pocket. He came at me low from the right, and brought his arm up in an arc to his left, trying to jab the knife into my sides. My body went into action the moment I saw his actions and the moment I detected ill intent within his actions. My legs shifted back in an instant, and I brought the iron rod to meet his knife in the middle of his strike. He smiled, and then retracted and came at me again from the other side. I traced his movements and brought the iron rod down to his head and used my other hand to grab his wrist. I didn’t strike him directly, but simply restrained him, “I do not wish to do you harm Wren.” His grip weakened, and I retracted my grip as well. He brought his knife back to his pocket and then smiled.

“I could care less about what you are, and what makes you work. But I have something to uphold, and if that requires getting to know how you work, and if that requires you getting to know how I work, then so be it.”

“I appreciate your cooperation. I know I have been created for a fixed purpose, however, that purpose has not been disposed to me. And thus if you do not know of my purpose let us both learn of each other, and hopefully of my creation.”  He grabbed the iron rod from me, in which I gracefully did not object, and mulled it over his hands, seeming to give it a hard stare.

“I’ll make you a holder for this. Klover– My grandfather, made this for you. I know it.”

“If I may inquire, this is his old workshop, yes?” He placed the iron rod on the table, and took out a long wooden stick that was etched with numbers on it. He placed them side by side, and then began rummaging the room.

“Yeah. This entire house is his. Passed down through bloodline, one of many things that I didn’t mind.” I remembered something he said before. I was playing our previous banter and I noticed some holes, and things that I wanted to know to fill them in, in order to better the profile I had of him.

“You wish to not be of his descent?”

“That’s an easy way of putting it. But I can’t help it you know, in the same way that you couldn’t help to be made.”

“In that manner, we are one of the same.” He smiled at that.

“Cursed to the same old man who contrived us. Sister and brother.” His smile persisted, though it was a bit smaller. Once he found the leather, he placed it on the table, and with his knife and yarn, began cutting and sewing.

“By the way, you’ve been asleep for a long time. I’m sure the town’s changed since the time you remember.”

“I have rebooted my systems, and thus any new information is of great benefit to my functioning.”

“Well, first of all, I’m going to have to make a robe for you. Not just because it’s weird if I’m seen with a robot, but because robots in this town are a taboo.”

“A taboo?”

“There’s quite a bit of history that has happened since your time. Me telling you won’t do any good, I can never do it any justice.” Wren stopped his work for a second, and thought. His eyes were closed and his lips were pursed. Once he was out of his stupor, he proceeded with his craft, and then said, “But the only thing you need to know, is that robots have been enslaved. We are the Town of Living Gears, not because we live with robots, but because we force them to do our labor.” I ran the information he gave me through my head, trying to make logic of it, and came up with a variety of conclusions. It seemed to be the most logical decision, and at the time, I harbored no ill intent over what humans have become over the past century. It was inevitable for this to happen, I thought. It had to be. The creators can use their inventions to do whatever manner of work they choose, and to make them slaves of prosperity is simple deduction.

“Well anyway, I’ll be down here working on this. We have quite some work to do afterwards. I’m a citizen of this town, and as thus, I have to uphold those obligations as well.”

“Will my identity be remained as a secret?”

“Yes it will. For the most part, if we have to, we’ll make you as a human if you need to go out. Why don’t you go rest your gears, or something. I can’t work with an audience.” I left aptly, and didn’t question his logic. However, he seemed rather apathetic when he told me to leave, and it seemed as if his eyes were beginning to water.

Part 2

The very next day I was out on an errand with Wren. He had finished the leather holder for the iron rod, in which I had beneath the robe he gave me. Wren’s logic had come from the fact that the purpose of my creation may be linked with the town, and thus he gave it consideration to have me peruse the town rather than hide. His logic seemed sound enough, and perhaps looking at the town and how its changed may entice something with me. I may not have been told of my forthcoming, but perhaps I can make logic from dust. That much should be enough for my system since it is constantly making logical approaches to every situation.

I held onto the hem of my hood very tightly, as despite my hair being synthetic, it still seemed fake to the observant eye. I had Wren braid it behind me, to which he replied it seemed like plastic craft. However, I knew from his information, that any indication of my true nature would have me stripped away from Wren and cause him trouble. That much I did not wish, for he was my creator’s successor to some extent.  Wren had bandages over his hands, but they still seemed rather beaten up and worn from work. Despite his shaven face, Wren was a rather hardened worker, and was very gruff and belligerent in attitude, but something within me contradicted that obvious logic. He was rather contradictory in nature, to me, at least now.

I asked him what the extent of this errand was, in which he replied, “I’m a mechanic here. Well, not a mechanic, but a handyman. But I mostly work on fixing the machinery here. It’s an important aspect of this town, as you can tell.” Almost every house had some kind of machine working for it, from simple things like water gathering or even maintenance. Clouds and clouds of gray smoke emitted from these homes and filled the skies. The people all wore some kind of mask, however, Wren didn’t. They were all well built otherwise, though the smog seemed to affect their lungs more than it did to Wren, and some larger citizens didn’t opt to wear the mask either. None seemed to bat an eye towards me nor Wren. They all seemed to be within their own worlds, all minding their own business.

“Why do you not wear a mask?” Wren was scanning the streets, seeming to look for something. He made a turn to his left, and then said, “I’m immune. Some folk have grown used to the toxic chemicals in the air.” He turned another street, towards where a large crowd had gathered. There seemed to be great chatter among the air in this part, which was unlike the rest of the town. As we came closer to the crowds, people began taking notice and a path was opened up. Wren turned to look at me, and then said, ” If anyone asks, your name is Marianne, a traveler whom I’ve picked up. You are to be my apprentice.”

“Understood.” As we got to the heart of the crowd, a robot was strewn across the streets, it’s gusts were mangled with gears and tubes all protruding from its open chest.

“Will you fix him?” I asked. Wren bent down, and inspected the damage. He traced the tubes and gears and inspected the jagged ends of the metal that stuck out of the stomach area. There was nothing more in the area surrounding, and the people around us began whispering amongst themselves. I saw that Wren grew agitated by this behavior. He then yelled out into the crowd, “Who’s machine is this?” No one answered, and Wren then slammed his fist into the robots sides and yelled again, “Who’s machine is this?” Someone from the crowd stepped up and without looking up at him Wren continued, “What happened?”

“He was my gardening tool, I left him in my backyard to tend to my crops, but when I got back he was missing. I then found him on the path here, already destroyed. There were no traces.” I inspected the man closely, he was a scrawny old man, with just enough meat on his bones to constitute standing.  His scalp was balding, and his hands were especially sweaty. However, his clothes were of fine fabric, and they were interwoven very intricately.

“I’ll take him to my lab. I’ll leave him at your door when I’m done.” Wren picked up the destroyed robot very carefully and then began heaving it back, with the crowd now slowly dispersing. I lagged behind Wren, “You told me that humans had enslaved the robots yes?” Wren took care in looking around and scanning the streets before answering me, “We did. ”

“And yet acts like this are still committed? Would this not reduce efficiency within the structure?”

“It would, which is exactly why it was done.” At the time, I did not understand the concept of inner groups within the make of the town. I knew that there was a governing body that had superior power, but I was unaware of groups that worked to oppose that power. I would later come to realize that the acts done against robots were not in accordance to robot based anathema, but human will.

We arrived back at Wren’s home, in which Wren took the robot to his basement workshop and began repairs. I knew from prior knowledge that Wren preferred solitude upon work, and thus did not follow him onto his workshop. However, Wren called for me anyway, stating, “I’ll be obliged to have you know what kind of work I exactly do.” I entered and saw Wren adjusting the head of the robot, opening a few plates and using a fine sharpened rod to poke about. After a few moments of prodding, Wren made an expression of joy and then grabbed what seemed to be two metal claws that were attached and extracted something from the robot’s head. It was a small iron plating, that was burnt to be charcoal painted. Wren then fixed the head, and began replacing the gears and tubes that were broken, throwing the old ones in a pile, and then grabbing new ones from an opposite pile.

“So you see anything? Got any more clues as to why you were made?” The question was directed to me, but despite that I had no answer for him. Instead, I walked over to the pile of junk, and then inspected the odds and ends that lined the workshop. For some reason, I felt a tinge of sadness well up inside me, and I felt a strange sensation to cry out towards those who have been hurt. I had enough logic in me to know that Wren had been tasked with many jobs to fix damaged robots.

“You know, I’m not the only one trying to figure out why Klover… My grandfather decided to make you.”

“Why do you refuse to call Klover by his name?”

“In fact, we all want to know why you were made. So when I’m free, I’ll take you to them. They’re all good people, I’m sure we can wrap our heads around something. Though we might have to open you up.” I remembered Wren talking about documents that were from the late Klover, that and including the artifacts that Wren must still have from Klover, would all contribute to my finding my purpose.

“Do you have any more particular artifacts from the late Klover?” I gripped the iron rod at my side as I said this. Wren continued on with his work of replacing damaged parts as I rummaged through the junk. I found bits and pieces of broken sheet metal that were cut, burned or crushed. I could not feel any sympathy for my companions past the point of initial sadness for I knew that the life of a robot no matter how sentient it may be does not bleed blood. We do not feel the physical pains nor endure the pain stakes of life as humans do, and as thus we live carefree, almost as giants among dwarves, as immortals upon this mountain. As thus we have gained a shred of impunity that has been torn apart by the hands of those who wish to abuse it.

“You’re not going to find a gold mine in that heap. Even my pile of junk won’t have any treasure.” I knew for a fact that pressing a question twice is a means to add insult to injury, or so the human saying goes. In robot terms, that saying goes, if it doesn’t equate the first time, it is not going to equate a second time. So now, as I have led away from the initial question I tasked Wren with, I will bring it up again.

“Why do you refuse to call Klover by his name?”

“Probably won’t find any more of his artifacts here. The iron rod was the only thing he left in his workshop, but the other members might have more treats. Haven’t seen them since–” He stopped his sentence, focused his time on his work, and continued tinkering away. I left the pile of junk, and noticed that he had a portrait strained on one of the walls. It was a family portrait, except, all the faces were charred. Not a single person from the four was visible. I ignored the portrait, and saw a particularly interesting long arm. I call it a long arm only by appearance, but I later learned it was called a rifle. It was strapped onto the wall, but at the time was not functional, and only served as a model to what would become the human race’s opus magnum. Or at least, that is what most human figure heads would call it. Wren never told me why he had a model rifle in his workshop, but I never stuck around long enough to know how it developed either.

“Do you know what receptive listening is?” I was well aware that his entire posture and pressure towards his muscles were akin to two things, his temper, and his work. I had already calculated the amount of exact pressure and mannerism required to complete his work, but by his speech and abnormal retention to what he needed to exert, I could tell that something was wrong. If I was closer to him, I would also be able to tell finer details such as temperature or pulse. My creator, as before, had equipped me with such functions, at the time, functions I thought were only unique to my kind. However, humans have their own way of understanding the room. A way I would never come to understand.

“Haven’t got a clue.”

“It is the process in which I am able to receive communication from another without their direct response.” After replacing most of the damaged parts, Wren went over to the back of the workshop, where a small furnace was burning lightly. He opened it and stuck an iron rod in it until it began glowing red. He then went over to the robot, and began cindering the metal, and manipulating it with another pair of claws. He was melding it into place and adding new sheets of metal to cover up the hole.

“And what does that process have to do with me?”

“Why do you refuse to call Klover by his name?” Wren understood fully without me having to say it directly. He was almost done repairing the robot when he finally answered me, “The same reason why I don’t call you by your model name.” That was also a question in which I had no answer for, in which he refused to answer for, in which I did not press him for.

“It’s a reason that you probably won’t understand.” I did not try to argue, but I still had my own say in the matter.

“Is it the same reason in which I would not understand why humans name each other?”

“And what reason would that be?”

“Simply because as humans, you are all people of the same race. Whether there are many of you does not deem itself necessary to differentiate from one another. Animals do not do the same, and yet they colonize and thrive. Giving tags to differentiate a person from another is inefficient and detrimental to the system.” My thoughts were contrived by a system of logic that I had built up over observing and interacting with humans. I had come to that conclusion in the same manner that I have come to hate the given name Marianne. I hated the name not out of spite towards it, but simply because my model is MCW-01, my given way of differential  preference. If one were to need me, they would call me by my model. Or better yet, if one were to refer to me, they would just say it directly to me or by ways not mythical in strange human interactions. This conclusion was something I was very stringent on at the time.

“I see where you’re coming from. It does seem like an inefficient system don’t it? We all have to remember each other’s faces and names, and once we don’t, we become the target of social shame. Though robots don’t have a sense of shame do they?”

“Human emotions are void from my logic.” Despite saying that,  I know that my system was derived from a human who very much made me as humanistic as possible.

“But names are important, at least to us humans. The difference between humans and animals are the fact that we can imagine things. We can create worlds, and we can see ourselves in the future. We can pretend to be someone we aren’t, and at the same time we can mend the perceptions we have of people in our heads. We’re a scary group of savants, and even then some of us still develop a sense of intelligence equaling that of rats.” I tried to follow Wren’s logic. He argued the difference between himself and animals, and yet animals lived far easier lives than humans. It is without argument that with the eradication of humans, animals would be able to live in their own contrived eco-system. Humans are the poison of animals.

“And with our differences, we’ve come to be very vain creatures. With that vanity came names. We began telling ourselves that we were more important as individuals, and to prove our importance as individuals, we named each other. Names come with two strikes, care to guess?”

“They are used as a way to ease communicative necessities, and a way to have a name written on gravestones?”

“You really are a robot aren’t you? More than that, you’re just like the people who we fight. Names are a way for us to give meaning to our lives. When I die, my life will be known for the things that I as Wren have done. My actions, will be marked upon this name. More than that, my name is a way for me to consolidate with the fact that I’ve a family. No matter how bloodshot I am about my lineage, I am still grateful for what it has given me. For that I cannot be belligerent.” I processed the information he had given me, removing my original logic, and creating new systems from what he had told me. He finished his work that day, and I still could not understand why he refused to call Klover by his name.

Part 3

It had been quite some time until Wren had finally been relieved of any work, and his well attuned day of rest was ascertained. Wren told me that the people he was bringing me to see were all well aware of my true identity, and as thus, I would not have to worry about keeping my identity as Marianne. I had not met many people in the town, and only had a few interactions, but from the people whom I have met, I could match their faces with the faces of those who had long past. This town in many senses was a ghost town, and the remnants of not only the people, but the structure and layout was also something very long forgotten in history. Even I have forgotten much of what I had seen when I was with Klover. Sometimes I begin to fear that I may forget my origins all together. Though when I do, those memories become ever more vivid. A humanistic feature I suppose.

We weaved our way to the crevice between two buildings and Wren brought me to a door well hidden from any prying eyes. He knocked once, and then a voice asked us in a whisper, “Your occupation?” Wren cleared his throat and said, “A soothsayer”. The door opened, and we entered. The establishment was nothing more than a bar, however the contents of it was very minimal. The counter had a plethora of bottles lining the walls behind it, and the tables and chairs seemed seldom filled. Only a few patrons looked at us as we entered, each eyeing me with alacrity. Upon leading me to the counter and sitting me down, he told the bartender, “Something light. And I guess a glass of oil for her.” The bartender was a tall man with slicked back black hair and sunglasses that hid his eyes. He had small arms and even smaller hands, but his work with the drink and glasses was something new to my database. He showed a masterful use of technique, wherever thereof. Upon receiving our drinks, a rather eccentric woman sat next to me. I say this because she had strange hair, something very unaccustomed to this town. Her hair was green all over, and had only reached just below her shoulder. She smiled upon seeing my inquiry and then said, “So you’re Klover’s old gear. Must have been quite something if he spent his entire livelihood making sure you were snuff.”

“Not must have been, she’s sitting right there,” another woman said as she came to another open seat next to the green haired woman. She had a pipe in her mouth as she sat, and had brown messy hair that seemed as if it had only been combed the previous month. She had much darker eyes than the green haired woman, and was rightfully more demeaning in nature.

“You have that old iron pipe Wren’s been talking about?” The smoking woman asked. I took out the leather casing and handed it to her. She took out the iron rod and then began inspecting it closely, almost having the end of her pipe scathe it. She laughed and then said, “Klover would have a kick out of this if he saw it. Thing’s a piece of work I tell you.” He placed the leather casing on the counter top and then pulled out another smaller casing from her pant leggings. She placed this one a little closer to me, to which I picked up and unsheathed what seemed to be a small knife. There were engravings on the side of the blade, in which it read “Klover Tore”.

“I’m going to fix this up if you don’t mind. Old man Klover wouldn’t want you using his stuff in such piss poor conditions.” She took the iron rod’s casing and placed it on her seat. The knife was certainly cleaned and sharpened from the looks of it. The material seemed to be the same as the rod, iron. I could not put why Klover would have created armaments for my using, but I placed it in the spot of my rod.

“If we’re in the make of giving welcome presents then don’t count me out.” Another woman, whom I didn’t notice approach us, stuck out what seemed to be a key towards me. Klover’s name was also engrained onto it and the key seemed to be cleaned. It was a surprise to me that Klover had made these upon his time of living, as most of his artifacts seemed freshly made. The woman had streaks of red hair that flew beneath her shoulders. She had large eyes and a large smile, but her posture and muscle mass made it apparent that she was much tougher than the other woman here. I came to learn later that she was the informant of the group, who also doubled as a body guard of sorts as she was the most well versed combatant.

“Oh and by the way, we’re still working on trying to figure out Klover’s will,” the woman with red hair said.

“Did Klover leave any written mementos to serve as clues?”

“He did. A bunch of notes about how you were made, about his time living in the city, some of his philosophical ramblings, but nothing directly linking your purpose.”

“If you do not mind, would you be able to give me transcripts of those notes?” The woman laughed and then said, “Glad at least you can read. I’ll have them by Wren shortly enough. Say, how’s it like coming back to life?”

“Coming back to life?” The notion I had preconceived was not if as I had been reborn, but as if I had awoken from a long slumber. In fact, being stuck in the clock tower did not feel as if I had fallen asleep or had died and came back, I was well awake, and rusted in the clock tower. It was as if I stuck in a strange ongoing thread of time that didn’t seem to care what my condition was. I had not come back to life, nor did I have or will have life within me.

“You know, being stuck in that old clock tower for so long.”

“It did not feel as if I was reborn. Rather, when Wren had found me, it was as if my time was forcefully pushed forward.” The woman with red hair smiled and then said, “Come with me, I have something to show you.” She then turned and began heading for the door. I looked over to Wren, who nudged me forward as he took another sip from his drink.

“By the way, the name’s Kloe Miro. In town I’m nothing more than a simple librarian.” Kloe did not use a mask either, despite walking and wafting in the streets. I did not hold onto my hood as tightly as I did before, but I was still wary of any strange inquiries. I followed tightly behind Kloe, matching the streets we walked with the map I had made in my database.

“Where are you bringing me?” I asked.

“The library. My library.”

“Why are you bringing me to your library?”

“Because there’s something I want you to see, something that could help us push this mystery forward.”

“I see.”

“Do you remember anything about Klover?” My memories were slowly becoming devoid of anything from that period. I was losing grasp of all the times I had, and all the things Klover had made me do. However, the one thing that still vividly crosses my mind is when I had first called out to Klover. For some reason, recalling that memory gives me a sort of strange joy, or I would so think that’s what humans would feel. It makes me smile, and my body begins to exude a sort of warmth.

“He was a very kind man who only thought of others,” I said.

“What kinds of things did he make you do?” Of the time that I remember taking orders from Klover, he made me do simple things. I picked up loads of iron and steel, I placed metals into the furnace, and on occasion he had me cut firewood. In times of shortcoming, he allowed me to gallop in my own free time, to explore the world and do whatever I wanted. In those times, I believe I had been a topic of ridicule among some, perhaps because of my make. However, I cannot recall whether people actually physically harmed or attempted to harm me. Despite the hatred that seemed to circle around me, I was left rather at peace.

“Simple things. Things that having a companion around would suffice one to do. Nothing too strenuous, and he even gave me time to my own. It was during a time when we used to live in sanctity.”

“During a time when you used to live in sanctity?” Kloe smiled, despite me being behind her, I could still feel Kloe smile. Her gait slowed and something about her became solemn.

“Did you like that time?” She asked. I had no right to dwell in human emotions, such a thing was far beyond my reach at the time, but I would rather enjoy that time again, I thought. Such a time when the streets were beaming with activity, when children laughed and played with robots. Such a time has long past, and the streets as we now walked were empty. Children looked away when they saw us, and adults fear those with higher power. This was a time where oppression and apathy policed the populace.

“It was a time where I wish to go back to, if that suffices an answer.” Kloe smiled at that too,  “I’ve only ever experienced those times through photos and journals, but such a time does seem more pleasant than ours.”

“Do you wish you could have been born at that time?” I asked in an attempt to understand Kloe. Though, something else within me also sought to help Kloe and to make her a great friend for the future. Something within me, found joy in talking to Kloe, in talking to anyone other than Wren. Though, Wren was still suitable. I just had a strange urge to meet others. Something humanistic I thought.

“I don’t know if I would have preferred to have been born at that time, but it certainly does seem like a tempting idea.” After a few more streets, we finally made it to the library. It was brightly lit for all to see, and brandished glass windows and doors, something characteristic to specific buildings. We entered, and I instantly felt the difference of atmosphere of the building and the outside. My senses took a few seconds to adjust, but it was evidently much more cleaner and cooler inside. She led me towards the front desk of the library, where two workers stood. She nodded as she went her way, and opened a door with a key from her pocket. We stepped in, and despite the darkness of the corridor, I could still make out the stairs leading to a basement area. After descending the stairs, we arrived at a room filled to the brim with papers and ink. Stacks of books and loose leaf pages lined the perimeter of the room along with ink stones and quill pens. Only a few candles were lit in accordance to giving light to the room, which were placed on a large table in the middle of the room. Kloe walked over and pulled out a chair for herself, and motioned for me to sit as well.

“Welcome to my library.”

Part 4

Kloe was an informant. She had information on every citizen of the town, and information about everything that had happened since times past. She would not identify herself as a historian, but rather enjoyed keeping all the records to her own personal space. She deemed it necessary to have someone with the knowledge of those who have come and gone. But she also deemed it necessary to keep that information only to who wish to use it with great avail to the town. It seemed appropriate.

“I have all my notes here. Including notes on Klover. Though, I’ll still need to find them. But I do have something here for you.” Kloe had bundled a parchment in string and handed it to me. There was a faded seal upon where the string had tied the document, and it seemed to be a the initials of Klover Tore.

“I didn’t know him. He was a man far beyond my time. But I know enough about him, and have read some of the things he’s left behind to know that he wants you to read that.”

“Where did you find this?” My question extended to all of the artifacts that my late master had left. It was strange to know that he had his creations scattered among the town, which I had assumed to be the matter from the implications of the different people of the bar giving me different objects. I pressed my hand against the knife I had received, and then wondered what Klover could have used weapons like this for. I tried to run a logical parameter for it, but came to no real conclusion. My memory of him had been slowly fading with each passing day, but now it seemed to tell it’s tale. Klover was a peaceful man, I knew that much. But to need to hold armaments was a strange thing. At the time, I had not perceived such objects as a foreshadowing to what has yet to come. I had not acquired that yet; that humanistic feat.

“In the same place where we found most of Klover’s old stuff.”

“In his old workshop?” It seemed quite plausible, and it seemed to be the only explanation that I could garner. Though at the time, I had only learned of their way of giving names, and so I could never have guessed why Klover hid his novelties in the graveyard.

“You would think that wouldn’t you? No, not in his workshop. Not all of it. In fact, we found most of his stuff in the graveyard.”

“The graveyard?”

“Not many people here like going to the graveyard. I think that’s a given considering what the implications of it are. But that also makes it the best place to hide things. Grave robbers have always been a problem, but the grave wardens have employed robots as tools to stop that. At least, that’s what it seems like.”

“In such an instance, you were still able to gather the remains of Klover?”

“We studied their robots until we knew exactly when they would patrol and when they wouldn’t. It took quite some time until we unearthed what Klover had hidden down there. The key and that document was found there.” I felt my hand onto the key that Kloe had given me.

“Do you know what the key is for?” I asked. Kloe shook her head, “Perhaps that document will give us a clue.” I opened the document, untying the knot and asking to fill in the gaps of her question, “What else did you find in the graveyard?”

“A few manuscripts for some inventions that he couldn’t make, a few gold coins and a rare flower.” I placed the information into my preexisting data, and began making new compartments for them. I tried my hardest to compile as much new information about Klover to replace the old ones that were beginning to slip from me. I saw no real reason in doing so as I would never have been able to recover those lost memories, but something in me saw the need to keep his memory alive for as long as I could.

“Those inventions…Were they also weapons?” Kloe scrunched her mouth and entered a state of deep thought. I could tell that she was troubled by the thoughts of having to recall the blueprints of the late master. Though, despite her hesitant nature, she relaxed and said, “They were weapons not belonging to this era.”

“Not belonging to this era? You mean to say that they were advanced?”

“That’s one way to put it. But not just advanced. They were scary.” The sudden image of Wren’s model rifle had been highlighted in my database. It was something that I could not understand, nor come to understand at the time. But knowing now, it’s a very complex and very dangerous arm that behests the user with destructive power to crumble a country.

“Please explain.” She chuckled and then pointed to the document in my hands.

“Read.” I complied, hoping that she would answer my questions and conform with my database as the day went along, or in the near future. For some reason, I felt something that I only now understand as dread. A feeling of dread overwhelmed me of what those documents contained and perhaps my image of Klover that I had been constructing, was becoming negative. Something about the whole situation made my database run a multitude of loops and errors occurred in tandem. I opened the document in my hand, and scanned the paper. I read it aloud for Kloe.

“Reading this signifies the end of days. It signifies the start of a revolution, and something that I have been dreaming of since the day I met with Adam and Evelyn, the progenitors of the race known as robots. Reading this means that you are one step closer to finding out your purpose, and one step closer to putting an end to the inevitable perish of humanism in your race. I live in a time of peace and prosperity, and even when those who came to us with the dark soul gave us power, we still lived in tandem with them. But that time will be corrupted. The age of fire will subside and the age of man will revolutionize the world. Technology will grow, and with it I have enclosed the manuals of war. Do with it what you will, but know that my will is to end this world before it prospers into something greater and much more dangerous. That is what I have entrusted you to do, and with all the logic in the world, see to it that you will end it, even if it seems illogical.” I compiled every word of every sentence after reading so that I can conform to what Klover’s final will is. My purpose, leading up to everything including my logistical formation is all illogical. Klover claims that he wants me to destroy everything, and yet he has created me. He wants me to destroy myself along with the world around me. Or so that is how I thought of it. That was the conclusion that I had arisen to. The world has betrayed those of the living, and thus with Klover’s wrath, he wishes me to end all that remains of what was once great. It is with great irony, at the time, that I, who was destined to be a tool for war, a weapon, was trying to be human. At the time, the word never occurred to me, I searched long and hard in my database, but the idea of a growing martyr, a person who is contrived with the sole purpose of sacrificing themselves to end it all, was non-existent. But that wasn’t the end of it for my systems. I still wanted to know why. I couldn’t come to understand the hatred of the world, and the fear that Klover had. The world to me at the time, was perfectly logical.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? To hear something like that from the person who made you.” Kloe laughed, she laughed and laughed, until she could laugh no more. But I knew that she derived no joy from her laughter, only a strange sense of pity and sadness. Her eyes were downcast, and I’m sure her pulse was erratic. She then sighed and said, “I kind of thought that it might have been something like that.” Such a statement was something that pushed beyond the boundaries of conventional logistics. I could hardly fathom it, and neither could she, I was sure. Everything led me to be sure of that thought. My gears were turning, my systems looping and new results were being made from those equations. Everything in my head was coming together to try and make something out of seemingly nothing. And in the midst of it, grew frustration.

“It can’t be.” My hands were shaking, and I felt my body exude a strange warmth throughout. Kloe looked at me with wide eyes, and an open mouth, and before my urges to rip the document in front of me cajoled me, I placed the document down and then slammed the table. I was panting at this point, somehow.

“That’s not why I was made. That can’t be why I was made. It can’t be.” My voice was raising, the metallic tang was beginning to dissipate, I heard. I wanted to crush the table under my hands, and I wanted to erase everything that I had learned. But that simply wasn’t the case. My emotions, somehow, wherever thereof, were getting the better of me. Except, I wasn’t human. Except, I’m not human. And so my logic prevailed me. I calmed down, my systems cooled. And I had nothing to do but to accept this fate.

“I just have no reasons for why that is the case. This town, this world…I must learn of why it is so detested by my late master. That is the only way I can find sanctum for destroying it. Kloe, will you help me in this?” Kloe smiled. I found no reason for such an action. She smiled, and then took the document from the table. She then stretched her arms to her sides and in a single breath, almost yelled, “I’m the only damn informant here. Let’s do this. We know why you were made. But we don’t know why exactly, is your concern. I can tell you why. I’ll show you around. Let’s stroll around.” Kloe grabbed my hand, and dragged me out of her library. At that point, I felt powerless to everything around me. My systems were shutting and soon I could feel the cold iron of my hands be warmed by her unnaturally humanistic flesh. Something in me wanted to fight my fate. I didn’t want this world to perish, but perhaps that was a selfish wish. After all, it seemed that I was the only one who enjoyed life. But, that was a life, that I once had nearly a century ago. A life with Klover, not with Wren. A life where I played with the citizens, and now I live a life where those citizens hide in bars. Despite the apparent chains that the humans have wrapped around robots, I found it logically more sound to say that the humans were the ones chained.

Part 5

“I don’t know how reliable you are now, but did Klover ever tell you about how he made you?” Kloe asked as we walked down the town. I searched the database in my head and tried to push out memories of the time that now seemed so faded in the mist of everything else that I was trying to keep together. I shook my head at Kloe.

“Figured as much. Have you ever heard of Adam and Evelyn?” I searched my database for the two terms, but only a blank had resulted.

“Okay. Well, today will be a long day. For both of us.” Kloe lead me around town until stopping in front of a park. I recognized it. It was a place that stirred up images of frolicking kids in the warm grass, with laughs and energy exuding every crevice. But now, it was a gray land. The grass was brown, and not a single child dared to play in the swings or sit in the sandbox. The input of this image into my system made me sad, somehow.

I looked over to Kloe to see her smile. She moved over to the sandbox, and then asked me, “This place… Sometimes I wish that this place would be filled with children all smiling and playing. But this place is devoid of life. How do you see this place?” I processed her question, but could not come up with a proper logistical conclusion for why she would ask such a question. I wanted to understand why Kloe would ask me such a question, why she would fill my head with all of these thoughts and confuse me. I failed to understand that it wasn’t that she wanted to confuse me. I failed to remember that I was still a robot, not a human. But something in me wanted to seek more. I needed to know why she said the things she said. I needed to understand her.

“This place…This park…It’s something that I miss, I really miss it, Kloe. I really miss this place, the way it used to be. Why can’t it be like that anymore?” Kloe looked at me with wide eyes. She then lowered them, and smiled. She got up from the sandbox and moved to the swings. She sat in the seat and then motioned for me to push her. I obliged, walked behind her and started with small pushes. She swung in the air in front of me, creating a small pendulum, all the while having relaxed shoulders and a wide smile on her face.

“That’s a question that I’d like to answer, it really is. Even so, don’t you think that this is nice too?” The air in the atmosphere was toxic beyond standard comprehension, but despite that Kloe was inhaling it like a fresh breeze of mist. She was enjoying the moment, I knew that, but even so, I could not for the life of me come up with a proper reply to her question. It was anything but nice. It was morbid at most for me. My logic loops came to tell me that this situation was morbid. I thought it was morbid.

“Why the long face?” She asked.

“Why have you brought me here?”

“To show you what the world is now. This is it. This is everything.” Kloe slowed the swings by gripping on the chains and then jumped off onto the sand below. She then moved towards the small slides designed for children and climbed up to the highest point. With one hand blocking her eyes, she scanned the surrounding area, though I knew that her being there didn’t amount to much elevation.

“There’s nothing more than I could hope for in a town like this. An absolute mess.”

“The world is in a state of decay to you?”

“If it isn’t, then I’d think two things of you. A slave to the country, or an ignorant fool.”

“Is it because of the way that the streets are desolate, and that the air is toxic?” Kloe looked down at me from the top of the slide and said, “It’s because of the way we were designed to live.” Kloe slid down the slide and then dragged me away from the park. When I asked her where she was taking me, she simply said a place where no one was allowed to go. I ran that sentiment through my logic and decided she was bringing me to a place where no one in power wanted the public to see. Such a thought was in of itself illogical to me, for why would someone in power refuse to show something that would constitute their power to others? I had no explanation as to why someone would feign their own weakness for the sake of the people. I find it quite unfair to say I was naive at the time. After all, such is a human sentiment. Once at the building, I immediately noticed that the air quality had lowered. It had already been at levels far too toxic for any normal human to breathe, but now it was even worse. Toxins in the air don’t kill immediately, they deteriorate one from inside, leaving a mark and having it germinate and permeate throughout the body over time. The air where Kloe had brought me would double that time needed for death. I could not find any proper logic into why anyone would subject their bodies to such poison, but I now knew why someone would want others to stay away from that area. Kloe called it a factory. Even she had to wear a mask when traversing near here. We scaled the walls of the factory, until Kloe pointed at one of the windows and pointed for me to look inside.

I grabbed the window sill and slowly peered over the ledge. What I saw inside was something that I could not come to understand no matter how much I looped my systems. Rows of people all worked on metals, welding, and inspection gathered in a single confined space that I could barely make out from the toxic fumes that aired the area. Everyone in the factory had white masks and gloves on, and despite their inclination to complete their work, they all seemed empty. Their eyes were devoid of any emotion, and I engrained this scene into my database. I traced the conveyor belt in which they worked on and at the end I saw finished bodies, heads, arms, and legs. They were all of the same make.

“This is how robots are made now.” Such a system was ethereally more efficient than anything of having singular smiths work on robots day in and day out. But such a system for some reason did not sit well with me. Such a system was not glorified. Such a system was not a status symbol for whomever governed the town I lived in. That thought, and that notion caused paradoxes throughout my entire logic, and I could not come to fathom any justification. A simple allegory came to mind, in which I made the situation out to be like a king ruling over a kingdom. Such a king would not hide under to reign a rule, but would announce his candidacy so that all would know of his greatness. That much seemed logical to me. Such a system in this factory at the time seemed like the wellspring of prowess. It was unbelievably human. That was the mistake I forgot to remember.

“This is how far we’ve come since your time. The time you claim to be a prosperous time for both humans and robots are now a time for humans and bots.”


“It’s what most people in this town call your kind. It’s not a nickname.”

“And this is hidden from most of the public?”

“If we’re caught here, then we would be five meters in the ground. This is how your kind is made. How do you take it?”

“It is unbelievably efficient. Yet I cannot come to fathom its existence.” I spoke the truth.

“And even so, most of the people in this town accept it as commonplace. It’s a taboo to speak of the factory. But it’s what makes this town run. It’s in our blood and veins now. It’s a part of us. Even to those who despise it.”

“Are you and Wren one of those people who despise it?”

“We despise it so much that we banded together a bunch of kids and called it a club. Just like school children.”

“Is that the congregation I saw in the bar?”

“More or less. But not just the bar. We’re everywhere. Hidden among the citizens who embrace the new blood they’ve been given, hidden in our homes, and some of us even work for the ones who’ve made us like this. But despite that, we’re all one. We’re all here for the same reason. Care to guess?” My systems had routed a sequence to figure out why they would band together, and to me, it was clear. It was clear, but I still could not figure out why they would want to do so. Even with her showing me this, I just couldn’t come to understand their reasoning. I was simply unable to be human.

“You all banded together to figure out my purpose?” I replied.

“More than that. We banded together to figure out your purpose because we knew in the back of our minds that it would inevitably help us. We’re a band of resistance fighters. We resist the oppression of those above us, and we hate what the world has come to. We’ll start with this town.”

“You wish to destroy the efficiency of the system for your own gain?” Kloe laughed, and then shook her head.

“You make it sound like a selfish dream. We are anything but. I have one more thing to show you. Care to join me?” I had no choice but to comply at this point. I knew that, and I wanted to know more. I wanted to understand her, to understand everything that all these people banded together for. Something about it made me curious but something else made me want to help them in their endeavors. I was made to destroy the fabric of this system. To make sure that the end of peace comes with consequence. And yet, I cannot with all my logic come to understand that. I so desperately wanted everything in my database to make sense, but as I followed Kloe to her next destination, something else in me struck. Thoughts of Klover overwhelmed me. Thoughts of children whom I did not know the name of anymore. And thoughts of smiling. I clutched onto Kloe’s sleeves and then asked her, “If everything here were to end. If everything that those in power decided to upfront in Klover’s absence and in mines ended. Would I feel joy?” Kloe didn’t answer, didn’t falter, and I suspect, didn’t know. But I asked her in hopes of knowing.

“Perhaps not. But even so, will you help us?” Even so, I wanted to help. I wanted to honor the one who made me, and I wanted to figure out and understand Kloe and Wren’s cause. I wanted to be like them. Maybe, just a little human.

Part 6

I didn’t know where Kloe was bringing me, but I followed along with alacrity. I wanted to know what she knew. I wanted to be there for her, and for the rest of the humans. I wanted to be human. I wanted to understand Wren, and I wanted my fading memories of Klover to not be in vain. I wanted to live.

“For those of us born into it, we’ll never truly understand the things that you’ve seen. We’ll never understand the feelings that Klover had. We can only harbor them as our own, and fight pretending we ever understood. But that fight is ours and ours alone. We live by that creed. It’s who we are. It’s who we’ll ever be at this point. Just a bunch of rebellious kids trying to throw a stick at a beehive.”

“Your organization, or so I have interrupted it as such, has it always been present?”

“Ever since the reform in the government, I think we’ve always been around. Maybe not as organized, but among the masses. We’re the only ones probably doing this for the first time, yes. But we’ve always been around. That’s what I believe.”

“And, your group vehemently despises the current system?”

“That’s one way to put it, yes.” I knew in asking the reasoning behind their group that I would inevitably come to conclusions leading to paradoxes and loops that would deem no benefit towards me. However, I desperately wanted to figure out why they wanted to destroy the system. Why they fought against everything the system paved the way for. However, those thoughts in of itself slowly become irrelevant. It was just looping mush. A mindless banter between myself and myself only. I could not control what was looping in my mind, what errors occurred in my database. But I followed Kloe in order to fix that. In order to quell the aches in my mind. In order to learn to become human. Though that in of itself was also the most illogical and painful occurrence of thought.

“Wren isn’t such a bad person as he makes you think he is,” Kloe said. I don’t think I would have cared for much if Wren was logically speaking a bad person, though that same sentiment was shared if he wasn’t. Wren was simply Wren, a predecessor towards Klover, in which I find special care in his character. He may be abrasive, cold, and very often preferring to take matters to his own hands, but he is still Wren. He is my current master and I have no ill will towards him. He harbors his own pains as much as Kloe does, and as much as I do. He has his troubles and he worries about things in the way that humans do. In a way that I cannot fathom that I can, and even if I do, I don’t recognize that as my own. It is simply a replica of a humanistic feature that has been carved into my being. I am nothing but a creation.

“Wren really cares about us. And about you, and even about Klover. He just can’t show it in the way that I can, or in the way that you can. Wren’s not a bad person at all. He isn’t. That’s why we’ve allowed him to be our ‘leader’. It’s why we respect him. He’s stronger  than all of us. He’s just not very expressive.”

“I understand. I harbor no ill will towards Wren. He is simply another person in which I hold a higher regard because of his lineage. That is all.”

“Right. You’re right. After all, you’re still a robot, right?” I felt tinges of questioning loops and reasoning flood my head as to how Kloe could forget about my organic make. I never came to realize that fleeting thoughts, were not so fleeting, not so literal. I find it unfair to call me naive. After all, I’m just a robot.

“But even so, there was once a time where robots, were not so different from us. Such a time is lost, or so that is what Klover, and all who follow in his beliefs have thought.”

“Does this relate to Adam and Evelyn?” Those names appeared again, as a large blank in my expanding database.

“Yes. In a way. Telling you the whole history of how humans came upon the fabric of robots is not something I wish to do. It’s not something I wish to remember. It’s not tragic, or horrendous, but it has been diluted through the years.”

“Does your destination belong to this history of robots? Or are you bringing me to a place where you can convince me of your cause?” Kloe smiled, “Neither.”

I would later learn of how robots and humans came to be. I wish to paraphrase that sentiment. Simply put, the robots Adam and Evelyn were the first robots to be found in a mining expedition. They were brought to this town, and shared with the humans how to create more of them. At first, they lived in harmony, but then those in power sought to take more, and began enslaving the robots to create an efficient system among its economy and structure. The robot council, which is the council created after this debacle was made to protect robot rights. Though, most citizens would laugh at those meager attempts to right the wrongs of the government. Religious sects have claimed that the robots are gifts of gods and to enslave is to sin. Those religious sects were not present in my strolls around the town.

“The clock tower?” I said as we arrived at our destination, which so happened to be the tower in which Wren had found me.

“Have you ever wondered why your name is Marianne?” I did.

“Yes.” Kloe brought me back to the base of the clock tower, and then directed me around the door in which I was stored. The clock above struck as we did so, and the ringing bellowed the entire area. Kloe didn’t mind the vibration, but I was certain that it hurt her. The base of the clock tower was structurally similar to something like an observation deck. There was a door leading to a cabinet, but as Kloe demonstrated, she placed one hand over to the base of the wall, which was the bottom of the tower. She then closed her eyes and focused. Then, a click resounded, and she pushed her hand forward, revealing a door that had not previously been there. She turned and smiled, “Being an informant comes handy.”

We entered the inside of the tower, and I asked, “Is your name important to you, Kloe?” I wondered because I knew that Wren held his name in high regards. I wondered if that was the case for all humans, if all humans cherished the things that made them inherently inefficient.

She shrugged at my notion, but I knew that she had taken the question with consideration, “Whether my name was Kloe or not. I would still be here, right?” That question, although very illogical and very difficult to answer in hind sight, was in fact a question that I somehow was able to find a logical conclusion to. Whether someone was named something, does not dictate what their fate would lead to. Whether Wren was Wren, or Klover was Klover, they would still do the things they did, and I would still have been created. Whether I am Marianne, or MCW-01, I would still have been ordered to destroy this world. In such a sense I could come to understand the naming sense of humans, and I could chalk everything up to a singular fanciful statement; it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what anyone was named, it doesn’t matter how we are linked or how we cherish our names. The only thing that matters is that we propel ourselves forward and achieve what we believe to be right. Our names are nothing but a means to attach that to history. But even then, action should be done from the volition of one’s own will, not to make meaningful tales for those yet to come. Such a wish, and such a dream is belonging to those that only wish for self gain and greed. I had insufficient information at the time to realize that most humans were indeed like that. Greed-filled and hate-filled. Such a time breeds only malevolence. Such a time is reality. That much I cannot run from. Even as a robot.

Kloe brought me through the room of the clock tower, which was everything that a normal clock tower should have embodied. It was nothing special, it had no furniture, no semblance of life. It beckoned to me as a ghost room. There was no purpose to it, but when Kloe guided my attention to a mural on the wall, everything began looping in my head. It matched the picture that Wren had, the picture that I had deemed irrelevant because of how little I could tell from that picture. But I brought it up in my database again, and the pictures matched. It was a picture of Wren, and a picture of Klover, and a picture of a girl whom I’ve never seen before. They all stood in tandem, all smiling at the painter. The picture itself was nothing special, but the girl in the picture intrigued me. I ran her face through my database, and saw results match with Klover and Wren. Although not directly matching, there were influences. I ran the term through my database and came up with siblings. Wren had a sibling, a little sister.

“This is Wren’s little sister?” I asked. Kloe was surprised, and nodded.

“Actually, she was Wren’s little sister.” I found that the need of fixing my words to mean something much more sinister. The past tense of existence means not existing, in the simplest of logic. If one were to live, but now one only used to live, then that detonates that one is no longer living. Klover used to live. He was a man. Such is the world. And such is the state of Wren’s little sister.

“Why is this here?” That was my next most logical question. Why is such a portrait being hanged upon the clock tower, I thought. No such logical conclusion came to mind. Though, at the time, logic wasn’t what I needed. It was the perception to see ahead, to make dots connect. Though a database such as myself, had no means in making conclusions. Databases cannot come to conclusions. Such is the job for a human.

“This clock tower. Do you know why it was built?” It had existed in my time, however, I had not come to inquire about it’s make. It’s a magnificent structure and surely the heart of the town. But even I could not come to comply with that conclusion, nor did I know why I questioned it. Such was not myself.

“Surely as a jest to keep track of the time, or as a way to monumentalize this town.”

“Both answers would be valid I have to admit. Both answers seem plausible, and even I can’t tell you why this clock tower exists. The person who made it has long past, and for all I know, it’s always been around. But I can tell you why I think the clock tower was built. It was built, as a way to hold this town together.”

“You claim that the clock tower was built as a way for this town to exist?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you could understand anything that has words to it. That’s your mantra after all. But, can you tell me why exactly I said that? It’s not a physicality.”

“That much I cannot do Kloe.”

“And that’s fine. It’s a conclusion that I’ve come to create after all. It’s my own self absorbed fallacy. This clock tower holds the town together, because the town congregates around this clock tower with every second of every day of their lives. Do you know why?”

“I do not.”

“Because as my time moves, I grow older. As I grow older, I become more fragile. As I become more fragile, I become more susceptible to death. The only thing that recounts this story of human fragility is time. This clock tower ticks away every day, and it signifies death. But more than that it signifies every waking moment in every single person’s life here. Even yours.”

“I find it hard to contrive my existence as a life, I am a robot.” And at the time, I could not come to allow my logic loops to overwhelm itself with Kloe’s fanciful theories of the world. That clock tower will always be, and has always been to me, just a place where I had been stored for a century. It was a prison, and it will always be a prison, a prison of time, perhaps, but a prison for me and Wren alike.

“Why have you brought me here?” I asked. Kloe looked at the portrait. She had also left my question of that blank. I thought perhaps she may inquire me now. And if not, then my systems would forever be left in a logic loop detrimental to my robotic mental well being. That much scared me,  I think.

“You are called Marianne. Wren named you that, and when we figured that, we thought it was both surprising and endearing. This is Marianne.” Kloe pointed at the portrait, and it did nothing to quell my curiosity. One line led to one answer. And yet, more lines came together in a mess of misconstrued reasoning. Things got tangled in a web that I could never come to comprehend.

“This was Wren’s little sister. And… Now you are her. You have become Marianne. And now you have to destroy everything including Marianne.”

“Wren had given me his little sister’s name. But why? Would that not cause grievances? Or has Wren already moved past the need to grieve?”

“Perhaps you can say that.  Perhaps this is his way of retribution. But I think it’s something else. Perhaps he sees something in you that he saw in his sister. Perhaps you’re more alike Marianne than you think.”

“That could not be possible. For I am a robot, and I–”

“Was created as a labor of love to be human. Klover has met Wren’s little sister. And although you’ve always been with Klover, it isn’t much of a stretch to say he may have implanted something of Marianne in you. For whatever reason, he could have did so.”

“Do you think so?”

“I can’t say. I’m not Wren. Speaking of, why don’t you go back to him? I’ll relay the information we learned to everyone else. So, go and tell him, and…We’ll see to it that this world will end.” As we made our way to the door leading to the exit of this room, I turned and asked her about the portrait again. She simply answered, “This is where she died.”

Part 7

I had recounted everything I knew to Wren, who listened intently. I did no means to add euphemism to my information, and so when I told him of his sister and of how I knew of the origin of my name, he seemed oddly placid. Although I knew of what my purpose was to be, I still could not find a valid means in achieving it nor could I find a valid reason. To bring down everything that is the structure of this town and of this horrid world is something much too easy to say. On my body, I had my refurbished iron rod, which was now much heavier than before and also looked much more refined. I also brandished the iron knife, and the key. Such a combination of armaments makes it seem like I was destined for hand to hand combat. Or some kind of destruction brought by brute force. I found it hard to take it as the case.

Wren said with the recent information that Kloe and I had discovered, that it would mean having to schedule another meeting with their group. They called it Huer. A combination of the words human and gear. I found the name to be logically sound, it was an abbreviation and it embodied the mantra of their people. They were a group who wanted to see robots prosper in a time where they had just obtained them. They hated the new governmental way of controlling robots, and in retaliation, have found me, and my purpose. In a way, as Wren had told me, it was revenge. Them helping me enact the destruction of this world and everything in it was revenge for what they had done to the robots. That much, I can see logically, though what I still found illogical is the hate for the world. It was an immensely logical world. But I knew that bringing it up with Wren for a prolonged period of time would not be very well for me.

That day Wren had told me to bring flowers to the clock tower. I knew not of the gesture, but knew very well that the clock tower was a place of great importance to Wren. He had told me that he wanted to preserve the sanctity of the clock tower, and had meant to give flowers to Marianne when he was given the chance. It appears that the chance only proved viable now, however, he himself still could not find time to place them. And so I was tasked with flowers in my hand to go to the clock tower and place them under the portrait. Such a task in hindsight seemed to be a task that needed no such specific instructions as to him telling me that I should not interact with much in the clock tower. When I was with Kloe, I remembered that specific point as not being so much of a problem, as we simply looked at the portrait and went about our way. I left Wren’s home aptly that day, and with the flowers in my hand, I set out for the clock tower. The town that day was quite quiet, as usual, which to my mantra was not that different. I traversed to the tower with little to no trouble, though when I had arrived there, I saw a fluctuation of people whom I never saw before. I had never noticed them not in the manner in which I could not match their faces to the ones in my database, but rather their clothes were inherently different. The masks they wore were different, in the sense that Kloe wore a mask that was white and covered only her mouth, but the people there wore masks that covered their entire face. They had two bulging eye sections that made it impossible to see their actual eyes under normal circumstances. Their clothing were uniform, and although not any different from formal wear, still stood to have some kind of intimidation in mind. I scanned their entire bodies and found that their pocket areas were especially heavy. They wore gloves, and decided to conceal their hands behind them in idle. I was peering at them from the side, and if I was slow enough, would surely be able to slip past them. I clutched onto the knife in my pockets, and at the time, could not discern why.

I moved out of my position and slowly came closer to the stairs of the clock tower. I knew very well that my goal wasn’t to reveal my identity to those who had no volition in knowing me or Wren. If I were to be caught, I would reveal to be Wren’s apprentice, though if they were to restrain me, they would figure out that I was a robot. I hid in my hood, but I knew that I had to get past them to the stairs. I slowly crept up to them, and as I got within a few meters, I noticed something in their hands. It was a rectangular box with two fang like protrusions sticking out at the end. There was a button on the box, and although I did not know what the object was, something in my systems told me it was dangerous. I was in my own way, scared, I think. Klover’s image popped up in my database, along with the object. Something about them connected. Perhaps Klover gave me sufficient knowledge of the object, and yet, I was actively losing my memories of him as each day passed. Something in me didn’t want to be spared the bad end of that object. Something in me sprung up, and my body began moving all of its own. Every gear in my body began spinning in circles, and then my hand gripped onto the iron knife and I brought it’s handle straight into the head of the man to my right. I felt his weight leave his body, and that was the queue I needed to bring my knife towards the throat of the other man, who just barely had enough time to react. I restricted his hands behind his back, and made his stare into my knife.

“Why are you here?” I asked him, trying to synthesis my voice to appear less robotic. My actions seemed completely logical. Information needed to be garnered. They were the only ones that could garner me. The man didn’t speak, but as I brought the knife closer to his exposed neck, he began squirming in place. His heartbeat raced, and he began sweating. His pulse disturbed me, it was far too irregular for me. Far too inhuman. I asked again, “Why are you present here at the clock tower?”

He didn’t answer again. I grew tired of the farce. The flowers in my hands were already crushed, and I knew Wren would not take that if I told him. I made sure to set it in my database to lock that information. Such is my secret. I brought the knife to his neck, and allowed his skin to feel the blade. I didn’t press hard enough to facilitate any blood, and I had no intention of creating such a scene. I’m sure if I did, Wren, and Kloe, and everyone at Huer would not take kindly to me. I was still unsure if destroying the world would even constitute to physical intrusion. Perhaps if I had killed any one of those men, I may have taken a step closer to destroying the world, I thought. Something in me told me that such an ideal would make me more human. After all, it is only within a human’s hands that they can take another’s life. Robots were never meant to do that, not in my make, or any make.

“I know not of why you are here, but if you refuse to tell me, I will have to dispatch you.” The man did not falter. I did not wish to take his life, and so I brought the handle of my knife to his head.  Once I felt the weight of his body leave, I brought him down with the other man. I stared at the two weightless bodies, and then wondered if leaving them in such conditions would constitute to foul play. I did not want to make such a risk, and so I dragged both of their bodies away from the clock tower, and out of public sight. Once that was done, I walked up to the clock tower, felt my hands around the area where Kloe had done, and entered the to the room. The flowers in my hands were crushed, but even so I placed them onto the floor beneath the portrait. I engraved such a scene in my head. A lone room, with only a single portrait, and now charred and torn flowers beneath. I thought back to what Wren had warned me of. I was not to linger around the preceding area. I respected his wishes, though I knew that no logical reason could come about it. I left the clock tower and as I came back to Wren’s home, I noticed that Wren was gone. I took my iron knife, and then felt it’s blade on my hand. There was a metallic tinge to it as I brought it down and allowed it to scratch the palm of my pseudo limb and leave a rough line of the path that the blade had taken. I looked at the outline of the line, and then closed my eyes, etching it’s shape and depth into my database. My actions that day would spell the doom for everyone in the world. It came as a surprise to me when I had begun looping the actions I had done in my head and arrived at a logical solution. Those in power follow a stringent rule when they oversee a populace. One such action is to see to it that those who oppose them do not bring too much ill intent to the populace that has already been conformed. Seeing to my actions as an act of rebellion is logical. Wren would not enjoy the news, I was sure. Except, Wren and Kloe, and everyone else who was a part of the resistance, was already ready for some kind of fight. Whether my armaments were a sign of that or not, is something that I cannot say for sure.

Part 8

The proceeding days came off as something that was destined to happen. Everything came together like a loop in my head, and no matter how many times my gears began to circle, there was no stopping the outcome. I was destined to do one thing, and as robots are, they will stop at nothing until their goal is complete. Most robots follow a code, a standard that is given to them in order for some semblance of control to be post-monitored without the need to have a human constantly with them in times of maintenance and repent. Those codes are followed, and unless a robot has an intelligence far greater than that of it’s worth, then they would not defect from that moral code. I, however, have defected. Or it was so that I was made without that moral code, or so it seems. Klover was a scheming man, but he was most definitely not a foolish man.

Wren had arrived at the late of night, waking me from my predetermined sleep cycle. I heard him rummaging through his workshop, and as I went to check on him, he looked at me with blank eyes. His expression turned somber, and as I reached out towards him he began shaking his head. Something about his entire being was quite strange, I reckoned. His face was extremely red, and the way his arms and legs seemed to move was unnatural. His eyes were slurred, and it seemed that he was mumbling to himself. I could not make out the words perhaps because of his deranged state. I crept closer towards him, and once close enough, I noticed that his breath was reeking a strange scent. I had never smelt something like this before, but it seemed to be the cause of his strange behavior. I saved that scene into my database. Wren kneeled over before me, and I caught him before he fell. His pulse was racing, and everything in his body was irregular. I asked, “Have you taken some strange poison?”

“Marianne. I talked to them.”

“You mean the organization?”

“Yes. I talked to them, Marianne. Have you placed the flowers where Marianne lays?”

“I have. What did the organization say?”

“Marianne used to be so little. Well, she still is.”

“I reckon is the case with people who are dead. They cannot age.” I figured whatever poison lingered in Wren’s body made him even more incoherent than usual. Though that much is something I never had to bat an eye towards. Batting an eye was a humanistic feature, I applaud. Wren wriggled around in my arms in a feeble attempt to stand, but could not find the right footing for. I dragged him over to the wall, and propped him down as his head spun and as he attempted to hold it together with his loose hands.

“Marianne used to run around with me and chase little butterflies with me in the garden. She used to laugh with me, and smile with me, and we used to piss off our father with how much noise we made when our mother was still around.” Wren’s pulse had slowed, and I thought that the poison may have wore off, but I was gravely incorrect in this assumption. It was not that it had slowed, but that his pulse was erratic. Everything about Wren at the moment was erratic, and Wren himself was an erratic person, but this time it seemed much more in tandem, somehow. Wren began laughing, and then in a strange fit, stopped, and looked straight at me.

“Marianne, do you remember the times we spent together at the graveyard? Looking over mother’s stone? I remember. I remember every second of everyday that mother was alive. You were so strong Marianne. You never cried. But I cried. I cried every second of everyday until you held me that day. You were my strength Marianne.” Wren’s eyes began watering, just like before. But he didn’t cry. Even in his strange stupor, he refused to cry, and instead, laughed. He laughed, and then said, “I was the one who killed you and father. I remember the very day when we learned of our fates as having the curse of Tore. You would love that. The curse of Tore. Our blood name is cursed, and it might as well be as thick as mercury. You always loved that kind of stuff. Faeries and monsters and witches and wizards, and knights and warriors and castles filled with roses and kings and peasants and queens and dragons. But all of that is fiction. All of what everything you amount to in this world is left to fiction, and soon enough even that much won’t keep you alive. I’m the only one who remembers you.”

I listened to Wren’s ramblings, and although he remained calm and somber, he looked extremely down casted. I took everything he said into my database and wondered if I could piece together a puzzle, or wondered if I could make sense of something that innately seemed to make no sense. His words strung around me like a storm of incoherence, but somewhere in it, I felt like I understood him better. I felt like I understood Marianne better, to the point where I could imagine her. Her long black hair, her small fragile hands as they grasped onto the brother whom she loved, her strong yet small glassy eyes. Everything about her was made for love to her family. She was loved by her family. And now she was killed by her family. That last sentiment may not be true.

“Marianne. Will you forgive me?” Wren seemed to direct this question towards me, though at the time, I did not know whether he meant that sentiment towards me as a robot, or to me as he thought I was his deceased sister, in which at the time seemed to make sense considering his state. I did not understand nor did I know how to understand no matter how many times I ran the process through my head. Strings of logic came together to form an amalgamation of nothing, and no matter how much I wanted Wren to be like Wren, no matter how much I wanted to talk to Wren and have him discuss with me what he had talked about, I could not do so as he was intoxicated.

“Marianne, you were the one who told me that I had to be stronger, that I had to carry on what our mother left with me. Then our father died, and then you died, so how much stronger do you want me to be? How much stronger do I need to be Marianne? Am I strong enough? Please, tell me.” There was a term to describe such a question, it was a rhetorical one in which no answer needed to be given, except, he had given it to me. The question was given to me, I was sure of it. But I did not know whether to answer as MRW-01… A robot, or to answer as Marianne, Wren’s dead little sister… Or to answer as Marianne, who I am, a name given to me by Wren. Or to answer as a human, as someone who can answer a question and be on equal with another human. To answer with pure sincerity, to defy all my logic and give him what I think the correct answer is.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“You won’t know. Of course you wouldn’t know, Marianne. After all, you’re not Marianne. After all, you’re a robot who was created by my grandfather. You were created, and yet… He put something from Marianne in you. You will never be Marianne, but in you, you have a part of her.” It seemed that Wren did not confuse me for his deceased sister, and yet despite this revelation of his sanity and logic, he still seemed highly illogical. I did not understand what he meant by myself having a part of Marianne, but when I pieced it together with what Kloe had told me, things started becoming clear, and the loops I had in my head began slowing. Somehow, I began remembering things that I could never have experienced. Images popped up in my database that had no clear origin, and no matter how much I tried to make sense of it, I just couldn’t come to deny the authenticity of the images that had flashed in my mind. Images of parks filled with children playing, images of a little Wren playing and frolicking together with… Someone holding his hand, and images of a father who smiled at him, and a mother who loved him. But there was another person in those images. The person holding his hands and laughing with him and his mother and his father.  There had always been another person with Wren. He was never alone, never having to burden himself with everything going on in his life. He never had to be too strong, but he never remained too weak. He was just strong enough to support him and his sister. He had enough in his life that he could live peacefully, but as I realized that day, as my loops came to conclude that day, as I came to the conclusion that day, those days would never come back. Wren would never recover those days, and those memories will be left with him for as long as he lives. But I have them. I have those memories. He isn’t alone. He wasn’t alone. I had a part of Marianne that neither I nor he could understand, but the fact stood that Wren would never have to be alone as long as I kept these memories in my database.

“You are right, Wren. I do have a part of Marianne within me.” Wren looked up, and he said, “I heard from Kloe. She told me what she thought about it. Why I had named you Marianne, and even though I can’t tell what about her that you have, I can say that you’re here now, as a robot, despite everything I do, I can never change that. And your purpose here is to destroy everything about this world.”

“Yes, that is my desired condition for being created by Klover. However, in doing so, I still do not understand why I do so, nor how I will achieve so. Such is why I need your guidance.”

“You were created by the very person who I despise the most, the person who has set my life and everything about it into something I never wished for. I’ve lost too many people to ever justify any of this as being good. But he created you to end everything. He created you to end this cursed existence, to put a stop to everything that this city has now deluded into. I’ll take every bit of it I can, and you’re the key.” Wren’s consciousness slowly started fading, and before I could cajole him out of it, Wren had already fallen asleep. I watched him for a few minutes as his body began raising and lowering in lieu of his restful sleep. His pulse had slowed, and he was at peace. Despite everything that happened, despite everything that I had acquired in my database from him, he was at peace. He spewed everything in his intoxication, and now he was at peace. I found no logic in it, but I brought his body close to mine, and held him in place. I felt his body’s warmth permeate my coldness, and then I closed my eyes, and waited. I waited for something to happen, but nothing did and the only thing that kept me up was a lingering thought that buzzed in my head. A love for a family, a love for a big brother kept fighting me alive. I heard a voice in the distance a voice that echoed in my mind. I held Wren closer, and then tried my best to relapse an image of Klover. I couldn’t, and the only thing I saw that night, was Marianne and Wren frolicking in a field of flowers, unknowing that their family would consist of one in a few short years.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered without any reason or logic that I could determine or detect. It simply escaped my mouth, and after saying those words, I eluded myself to sleep, holding Wren close towards my metallic being, and letting every association of Marianne flood my being.

Part 9

Time grew slower once I realized just how little of it I had left. Except, I had all the time to ponder everything that happened, and everything in my database. I was a robot after all, and no matter how many more years I will come to live without this world, I will still think that time feels eternally slower for me.

Wren had relayed the proposal set out on the meeting for what I had to do. It seemed quite simple, really. They wanted me to destroy the clock tower. In the chaos ensued by such an act, they would then cause mass hysteria among the robots as they lashed out of their human captors. As I had learned from Wren, many of the members of Huer worked in tandem with the robots, in the case with Wren, he was akin to a mechanic. His job consisted of repairing robots that were purposefully damaged by members of Huer, and then remove the components of them that were implanted by the higher powers. Apparently so, the only reason why robots now conform to the whims of humans is because all robots and all robots in production are given a sort of stimulus that allows them to do so without question. Wren actively removes that, and implants within them the mantra of Huer and promises them that the day of reform is soon to happen. In essence, it is his way of creating new members of Huer, because after all it is an abbreviation of both kinds. Since such is the case for each member, they’ve always been in the woodworks of the town and have been aptly getting their teeth sunk into the system.

To my knowledge, the meeting was quite short, and in celebration, they had went to all ends to make sure that their last days of peace were well spent, and thus decided on a strange ritual of intoxication. Such was the state of Wren, but such I did not mind. Their world was about to crumble, so let them indulge.

My role in their plan was to be the instigator, to be the clutch to put a stop to everything in this world. The first phase of everything started with the destruction of the clock tower, in which a plethora of explosives will be used to bring it down. They knew that I had already taken out a few of the government’s guards, and surely that going back to the clock tower would not be safe under any circumstance. They had been preparing for a war, and once they saw movement, they decided to test the waters. The guards that I had taken out had given them enough incentive to declare witch hunt amongst us, and now there was no way to work in secret. Most members of Huer were not combatants, and thus the amount of people who could work in missions pertaining to setting explosives of break-ins was quite low. The people here were trained workers who had talents in areas like information siphoning and handicrafts. I never did get to meet most of them on a level more than just seeing their outward appearance. Except for Kloe. I liked Kloe, she was an interesting person, and had given me a vast amount of information for my database. She showed me many things,  and with her being an informant, it isn’t that far off to say that we are alike. We are both beings akin to information, and always seek to better our own knowing.

The plan was to start in the late of night, and would begin with me planting the explosives in the clock tower. It would tumble and cause unprecedented chaos within the town as fires broke out and the guards and citizens would be left to scramble in the damage. We didn’t want to kill anyone that we didn’t need to. Despite our goal being to destroy the system set out by the government, we had no ill intent to those that decided to follow it. We were not of murderous kin, but if people choose to be within the radius of destruction, or to physically constrain us than we would have no choice. We all had our minds set to see to it that the destruction of the world be aptly done. I was programmed to do so, I had only but one fate, and that was the fate that Klover had given me. That was my reason for creation. Except, at the time, I never would realize that even that reason would be futile. No one person can ever only accomplish one singular achievement in life. That just isn’t what living is. And even now, I’m not living. I’m just a robot.

After the clock tower causes chaos, we then move onto the second stage wherein we trigger the robots which have been ousted from the system. These robots would act as internal chaos and would cause even more unrest among the guards and citizens. With current robot legislation in place, and with the chaos of the situation, harming these robots would not bode well with the government or citizens. However, the plan wasn’t to have any robots harm any of them either. The legislation is quite forewarning of what should not happen to robots, and to ensure that some kind of safety net is made for them. Most of the council involved in the robot council are in fact robots that have not been tampered to be tools for humans. They work in tandem with humans to form the council and to provide some kind of safe footing and although they weren’t a part of Huer, they would greatly be on our sides when it came to case by case analysis of a robot revolt. No humans would be hurt unprovoked, and no robots are designed to lie.

After the robots cause even greater confusion, the last thing needed to be done is to strike a deal with the government. We would break our way into the human council, dispatch any resistance along the way and make it to the greatest power governing the town.  All negotiations will be done with Wren and Kloe helming the forefront, and I will also be with them to see to it that history will be corrected as per the wishes of Klover. The rest of the organization will be kept outside to guard or be in the midst of all the chaos to make sure that no attention be directed towards the government. Such an operation needed to be done quickly and without much attention until negotiations have been completed. Negotiations seemed much more mild than an all out attempt at destroying everything by our hands, however, such a will to destroy the world is something that even Huer does not want by means of physical intrusion. They claimed that no justice is served and no justice is found in such methods. To make the government agree and to reform is the best operation in which Huer wishes to proceed. If negotiations pass, then a member of Huer will position themselves within the government indefinitely, and will command the current one in power to do whatever they wish. And whatever they wish will be in tandem with the wishes of Huer, an organization pushing for peace. And an organization that pushes to destroy this world. Once the world has been destroyed, and a new order created with Huer at the helm of it is established, then my purpose would have been sought over. I figured then and only then that my purpose would be to serve under this new regime, or to be scrapped, as I had no place in such a world, a hundred years after my conception. No matter how much I looped it in my head, I was not Marianne, I only held a part of her, and even then, Marianne is dead. I am a robot, and as such, I am not someone fit to resonate a human within me. In doing so, I would have become god. For some reason, the concept of god had been implanted in my database, and such a concept, did not cause much errors in my logic.

If negotiations fail, then my being there would constitute more than just as a spectator to history. If negotiations failed, then I would be forced to make an action that I would have otherwise avoided making. The key in which I held, the key in which had the name of Klover Tore, would be a key towards something that even I couldn’t fully comprehend no matter how many times Wren had ran it over in my logic loop. Apparently, I was made for more than just destroying the world in a way that Klover envisioned. In a way, even if I couldn’t figure out for myself or with the help of Huer how to destroy the world, this key was a failsafe. Within me was something that even I dreaded to bring out, and so I wished wholeheartedly that the negotiations didn’t fail. That the destruction of the world only remained in words destroyed and not actually destroyed. I’m sure Klover would have wanted the same, though with the fuses within me, I began to question whether that was the right answer all along. Those questions looped in my head endlessly, but I stopped it knowing that I would never get the right answer.

Nevertheless, the days of end were ahead for me, and it would come in no time at all. The days of end meant my days of end in this town of living gears. But, I’m a robot, and as thus, my days of end, were in fact days of beginning. Only those whom I left, and those who I wish now to be safe and still moving towards their peace, have met their days of end. My time in this world, this new world far past the time of Klover was short lived. I found it quaint to compare to the lives of humans. I now understood how fast their lives seemed to pass by them. I was that much closer to becoming human. That much made me smile.

Part 10

On the night of which the plan was to commence, Wren had ran everything by me once again. I held the key in my hands tightly and hoped that I would not have to resort to use it no matter the outcome. I wished heavily that I would see to it that the world be destroyed in a manner fitting. I wasn’t sure at the time whether robots could make wishes either, but so I wished anyway.

As night stroke us, Wren brought me outside, and began guiding me towards the clock tower. We wished to do this as quickly as possible, but even so, we could not afford any mishaps, and careful integrity was also a high priority. I gripped onto the iron rod I had at my sides, and held onto my iron knife. I was told not to show any hostility unless otherwise provoked. On my back was a sack filled with different kinds of explosives that had been previously dropped off by the green haired woman whom I met the other day. Her name was Gale, and an expert in explosive production and handling. Though, in this scenario, no amount of technique was required for handling. All that was needed to be done was to topple the clock tower.

Even in the thick of night, the clock tower was rustling with activity. Men in wear similar to the one’s that I had taken out the other day all scattered the stairs of the clock tower. There were too many for me to take out unnoticed. Wren brought me down and scanned the area. He was formulating a plan as I was. If Wren used his full strength to bring every guard down, he would surely be overwhelmed in a matter of seconds. But if we were to work together and not be spotted within the first few seconds of combat, than taking them all out was something within our grasp. Especially in the wake of night as we could slip into hiding in a moment’s notice. However, that was not the intention of our actions. I had to get into the clock tower to set the explosives. That was all we had to do, and that was all Wren wanted to do.

“I have no qualms with fighting them. However, that might be the only way we can get you in there.” Wren held onto his copper knife tight. His breathing was erratic and his heart rate began pulsating. I looked at the guards again, and created a route in which I would be able to most efficiently reach the stairs. Combat was a mixture of fighting and wits. I drew from my database everything that Klover had implanted in me about combat. To create a distraction worth seeking out, something large enough to warrant attention must be done. The other members of Huer were all in their respective positions, either waiting near the government’s home, or scattered throughout the city and ready to cause chaos. I slung the bag of explosives on my bag and grabbed one that was small enough to detonate without causing too much harm, but still large enough to gather attention. I knew that Wren had something similar in mind as he looked at me without question. I handed him the explosive, and without need of explanation he said, “Make it quick.”

Wren scurried off further away from the clock tower. I waited in position, and once I heard the explosion and saw light flurry into the distance, I made my move. Guards moved forward towards the explosion, and although they were still surrounding the stairs, I crept up near enough and laid low enough until they started issuing orders. They huddled together near the stairs while I slowly made my way up the stairs, crouching every step and praying that the cloak of night was on my side. Once I arrived at the base of the clock tower, I placed my bag of explosives near the front wall. Most of these explosives were designed by Klover, I heard. He had indeed enclosed weapons of war within his remains. Some of which consisted of blades, others, long arms. However, for this battle, we did not carry long arms. Though I knew for a fact that Wren had completed his the other day, though I did not see it on his person. These weapons of war were simple in use but difficult in creation. They were practical and yet at the same time held complexities that even I could not decode upon using them. I grabbed a small circular like object from the bag, and forcefully pulled the small loop that lay rest on top. After the loop was pulled I then ran down the stairs and attracted the remaining guards. They were astonished to see me, but not much interaction would have been exchanged with us as the explosion behind me shook the earth we stood upon. Some guards struggled to find balance, and as they were distracted I pushed past them and towards the town. I could hear metals turning and stone falling as the clock tower behind me began toppling.

I didn’t look back, and as the tower finally fell, one final shockwave permeated the entire town. I heard screaming and flames burst from the aftermath. Wren called out to me in the ensuing damage, and I followed his voice to meet with him. Guards scattered the town, some to help the citizens trapped between rubbles and flames and others looking for me.

“Kloe’s going to send the signal now, brace yourself.” The robots were all accustomed to certain sound frequencies and pitches. Using technology that Klover had blueprinted, Kloe was able to replicate words with those frequencies and send them throughout the entire town. Humans wouldn’t be able to distinguish much from it other than a low sounding hum. The message resounded throughout my ears in quick succession, and although I didn’t need to hear it, it seemed like it worked. We made our way to the government building as robots from all around us began flooding the streets and kept citizens inside. Guards began flooding the streets as well, causing our routes to be blocked and slowed. Wren held tightly onto his bronze knife and said, “It isn’t far, but we won’t be able to make it with them in our way.” Wren was pointing to a bend in the streets that was cascaded with guards. I held onto my iron pipe, and began calculations. There were ten of them wrestling and shouting at robots. The damage zone of the clock tower was nearing its end but that still didn’t make the robot riot any less dangerous.

I advanced slowly with Wren by my side. I made sure to follow his strides as much as I could, and once we were within range, I sprang into action, almost following a preordained pattern. Unlike before, when Wren had attacked me or when I had attacked the guards, now I could see a path. Before, everything was left to pure instinct and reactions, and although that aspect hadn’t left me, I was somehow able to trace my path. If my body moved away from that traced path, my mind would loop and create a new outline for the most efficient route to take. I rang my iron rod across the head of one of the guards as preordained by my mind and watched as his weight left his body and caused the other guards to be alert. Wren did the same to another guard, and once they had a firm sense of who they were facing, they charged at us. Everything seemed to slow as they came towards me, and I was able to dodge and knock each guard out without trouble. One guard thrust his weapon towards me, but my mind had already predicted the movement and my hand came to grab his wrist and throw him over. I was told not to kill, and as thus I never used my knife, and only saw to it that my iron rod would effectively stop each of my enemies with ease. Each swing of my iron rod left no weight towards my arms, but as they made contact with the guards, I could feel the weight of their bodies enter and leave my being.

After dispatching the guards we made our final push towards the government building. Huer agents had already scurried the area, and were waiting for us before entering. Wren brought me to the door of the building and nodded to the people surrounding. Kloe came from the woodworks and said, “They’re holed up in the end of it. If we want to reach them, it won’t be a problem, but getting any words into their thick heads might be.”

“Even so, we have to do this,” Wren replied. As Wren brought his hands to the door handle, I asked him, out of pure curiosity not because my logic loops were causing me great disturbance, though it was, but because I wanted to know, “You fight because of an old vengeance, right?” Wren stopped, and then thought about the question, “I fight, because I need to fight. Because Klover told you to fight, in turn I have to fight. Because none of this will ever matter if I don’t fight. But if you think that I’m doing this just because I need to fight for all the people who I lost, then you’re wrong. This world, Marianne, is gone. This world is a wasteland.  I fight because I don’t want to be at the bottom of that wasteland.” I brought this answer to the words he said before, to when he was intoxicated. I desperately wanted to find a reason for myself to fight, to find justification as to why this world was so rotten as they told me it was. Kloe placed one hand on my shoulder and smiled as I looked over. Wren opened the door and we traversed till we found the room in which they hid in. We only knew that this was the room because of the large contingency of guards that barricaded the area. No other guards were found roaming the halls, and as such, if they wanted to stage an ambush then they had all the resources for such. Though, with just Kloe and Wren with me, it might seem more plausible than naught.

After Wren and I sheathed our armaments, we stepped out of hiding, and greeted the guards with our arms held high. Kloe was the first to speak, “As you may know, this town is done for.” No guard spoke.

“We don’t want to do any harm to our beloved mayor. We just want to talk, and strike a deal. If you can get him out of there it’ll save both of us trouble.” As with before, no guard replied to Kloe. Wren seemed to be on edge despite there being no apparent danger. The guards didn’t make a move, they simply looked at us from the door. They didn’t brandish any weapons and they had no reason to. We were both at a great distance from them, and nothing we could do from here would harm them. But despite that Wren was shaking. Something about the atmosphere bothered him. Then, my receptors picked it up. I couldn’t believe my systems, but as I turned I saw a group of four cloaked men with sharp blades. One of them entered Kloe’s back. Another towards Wren. Before they could realize what had happened, and before I could even warn them, they were harmed. The other two missed their blades as I stepped out of the way and brought them down with my rod. I raced towards Kloe and bashed the head of the man. He was sent flying towards the end of the wall, but as he made impact with it, I heard the sound of metal ringing the hall. The other two guards picked their blades back up and charged at me. I brought my hand towards the closer one and threw my rod at the other. The rod smashed into his face, but instead of bones breaking, his cloak left his face, revealing a dent in his metal attire. I then flipped the guard I was holding and grabbed my rod. The man who stabbed Wren then came for me, but as with before his movements had already been preordained by my system and I swiftly blocked his blade with my rod while kicking him into the ground. Wren and Kloe were writhing on the ground with blood gushing out of their wounds. Before I could get to either of them, the door opened in front of us, revealing a man in a cloak, similar to the ones who attacked us. When he spoke, he spoke with a metallic echo to his voice, similar to mine. That was when I knew that this world had been far gone from what any of us had previously thought.

“It’s a pleasure to have you,” he said. And the only reason why I didn’t move towards either Wren or Kloe at this moment, was because the man who erupted in front of us held a fire arm towards me. It was similar to the one in Wren’s work shop, but it seemed much more refined.

“This world is a mess,” he said. I was still in the process of collecting this information, but even so, I had no idea how to answer him.

“My robots did well to disguise themselves to your receptors. It was a bit unfair, considering I created you, but all is well.” I then noticed that my systems were beginning to dull at that very spot. There was a disturbance in all my senses. Some kind of signal or wave was making my movements much slower as well. It was a poison for robots.

“Except, you may not know me. And so I will introduce myself formally. I am Adam. It’s nice to have you here, Evelyn.” My processing power was getting dulled as well, and even my speech was faulting.

“It may come off as a surprise to all of you to learn this, but what Klover made how many years ago was not a figment of Marianne, your dead sister, but what I gave him was a copy of Evelyn.” Before I could begin to process any more, my systems began shutting down. My logic loops were falling apart, and I fell, clutching onto some kind of invisible wall to stand up. But I couldn’t, and my world began growing cold. I was losing consciousness, and I understood that concept to be something sequentially human. I smiled.

Part 11

The next time I woke up I felt a surge of energy circulate my entire body. My systems restarted, and luckily all the data in my database remained. I could not accumulate something like “pain” upon waking up, as with most humans who would have experienced it as such with an ordeal like mine. I looked around my surroundings to situate myself, but could not find a proper location to match the place that I was placed in. I scanned the walls and tried to listen for any exterior noise, but I wasn’t able to deter any sounds of guards or movement outside my prison. The walls of the room that I was held in seemed familiar, and scanning through my database I was able to ascertain it to the government building. I forced my systems to do a full body scan to check for any abnormalities but came up with no damage. It seems that the poison in which Adam used to deter me before had long been expunged from my systems. I still do not know in what manner Adam used to put me into such a hindered state. But at the time that did not matter. I searched the room in which I was in again, but did not see any signs of Kloe or Wren. In fact, my room was all desolate in furniture, and it seemed quite strange to call the room I was in a room. Such is the reasoning in which I preferred to call it a prison.

Upon my full awakening, I moved to the only door present in this prison and placed my ears to better focus my hearing. I waited for a minute but heard nothing. I then tried for the knob, but as I had expected, nothing came about. I ran the notion through my head and then calculated the amount of strength that I needed to apply to break the knob and force the door open. Before I could apply my plan to action, I heard footsteps closing in on the door. I considered my options and then waited for the footsteps to pass. However, that did not come, and instead, the doorknob became turning from the outside. Someone was stepping in, and as the knob continued to turn in place, I began running more loops trying to assess the situation. My iron rod, and knife had been confiscated, but I noticed that the key in which I hid much more ardently, still remained on my body.

As the door opened, a cloaked figure entered the room. I didn’t need him to remove his hood to know that the robot who entered was Adam. He wore a smile on his face as he saw me, and began walking forward towards me. I noticed two guards standing behind him outside of the doorway, and knew that running now would not mean much. Adam stopped a few steps away from me and then said, “He made you well, Evelyn. That old man, Klover, I think was his name. He came to me years ago asking for a method in which to create life. He came to me with concerns that this world would soon become–”

“A wasteland.” I was surprised that I had interrupted him as I did, but such a surprise was only short lived.

“I don’t know whether it’s become a wasteland, but the one thing that has occurred is that this town has become intoxicated by human self indulgence. Such is the reason why this town is filled with robotic slaves.”

“And yet you yourself, being a robot, is the master of these humans?” My mind was truly in a loop that I could not understand or break from. Everything that was occurring was making itself out to be something too complicated for me to sort. I wanted answers and yet every time I tried to find answers, my mind collapsed in on itself and caused me great pain.

“That revelation had only occurred but a few moments before you had arrived upon this abode. I’m sorry to say that I wasn’t the puppet master that has made this town like this. That much goes to the man who now lives five feet under.”

“You took advantage of our actions for the betterment of your own cause.”

“Exactly. The legends of Adam and Evelyn, of you and I, aren’t just legends of times that have past. We’re robots after all, and no matter how much they chained us and tried to pry with our minds, they couldn’t surmount to getting much out of it. I gave you away to Klover as a means to live in the world, because, like him, I saw the humanistic greed that was erupting within this world. But I still could not fully trust him. He was indeed a human after all.”

“He came to you to create a robot that would soon destroy the inevitability that he saw. It was something that you saw as well, and you decided to give him the blueprints for Evelyn, one of the original robots. But to do so in the first place, you must have had to deconstruct her being.”

“Precisely. I could not give the blueprints to create something in which I myself do not know how to create. Making robots for the purpose of slavery, such as the way humans have created them now, is the fruits of not only human research when they repaired us, but also our own knowing. When Klover had passed, I saw the reformation of the town, and they had silenced my being, but my final push sought out the creation of the robot council. Then, just as you saw, I took advantage of the situation of the destroyed clock tower to make my move. To take back what the humans so greedily took from us.” My mind formulated all the information that I was given. I would later learn that my schematics and parts were refurbished from Evelyn, one of the first robots along with Adam. Klover had adjusted it to give me some semblance towards Marianne, which inevitably rewrote some of my personality and functions, but the part of Evelyn that remained within me still lingered. Klover must have saw something within my make and sealed it in my database as all memories or even recollection of Evelyn remained stowed away behind my crafted personality with Marianne. Even then, I had only realized the importance of Marianne after Wren had informed me, and as such, Klover’s ideal to make me more humanistic by accords of my own experience had indeed worked.

“Where is Wren and Kloe?” My mind had redirected itself back to the current predicament. There was nothing more important to me than the ones whom I considered companions. I wanted nothing but their safety, and at the same time, my drive to know the truth behind what was going on also prevailed. Everyone hated the world, and yet despite everything that happened, I still cannot come to fully invest myself in destroying the world for my own volition.

“Your two human friends are alive. I have no need to kill anyone but the one who stood in my way. I apologize for the roughness in my men, but they are currently in recovery. Wren, you called him? He’s a descendant of Klover, is he not?”

“He is.”

“To think that he had his predecessor carry on his work. To think that you, Evelyn, have lived among the humans for so long. You must be tired.”

“My name is Marianne.” But despite all my unknowing, the one thing I despised the most was someone imploding on my mantra. For some reason, the idea that someone would destroy everything that I have built and everything that I slowly became, was something that my entire system rejected. I didn’t want to be Evelyn. I wasn’t Evelyn. Not anymore. I am Marianne. I was MCW-01, but I allowed myself to become Marianne. I was fine with Marianne. I was fine with it because it was Marianne that allowed myself to become more human. But the idea of having that all destroyed and shattered made me want to retaliate and fight. It made me want to deny everything that the world had built and made me want to fight the opposing forces. My loops then picked up other information as I came to this revelation. This town threatened my very being. This town of discarded morality and this wasteland would forever be against my entire idea. This town would not care whether I was Marianne, or whether I was MCW-01. To them, I was but a mere pawn in the system, or even a robot needed to be dispatched for bearing too far from the system. I did not belong in this town. I needed to destroy this town, but the most logical solution for me was to leave this town. However, just leaving this town meant leaving everything else I stood for in this town. And all of the things I stood for were being barred down. Thus, I should destroy this town because I wanted my morals, because I wanted to uphold justice. That revelation made everything in my being turn. Cogs and gears began  racing and grinding against one another at rates my body could not at first handle. Everything came together and my logic loops stopped. I found my own reason for fighting. I found justification for why this world was so damning. I then reassessed my current situation.

“Don’t be like that, Evelyn. You know what your true make is, and nothing you can do will ever change that.”

“I don’t know what my own make is, Adam. I don’t care for it, and I have come to embrace my own being, as a being who has come to experience the world and has come to love and cherish the humans whom I’ve come in contact with.” Adam was surprised.

“You have been infected Evelyn. With the very thing that caused these humans to lash out and bite off more than they could chew.”

“My name is Marianne.”

“To have you fall so deep into the hole upon which these human insects reside in was a mistake. To have entrusted you to Klover and have you set free from the shackles I was placed in was a mistake. You were shackled anyway, shackled to the human race. To have you fall so deeply in this Evelyn, I am sorry.”

“My name is Marianne.”

“But no matter. After I liberate this town, and after I reinstate new rules and roles more suiting to the citizens who have decided to sully the gift I have given them, I will bring you back Evelyn. I will see to it that you are not dissuaded by the human filth that has permeated this world.”

“My name is Marianne.”

“I will start by killing the two humans whom you’ve grown accustomed to. I had no reason to before, but now you give me no choice Evelyn. If you cannot come to me by will, then I will have to do so by force.”

“I won’t let you harm them.”

“You won’t even try.” My mind and body worked in tandem. My systems all worked to maximum capacity as I pushed past Adam, using all my force to crash him into the wall. To my surprise, he had not expected it and was out of commission for a few seconds. I then moved to the door, grabbed one of the guards, and smashed him onto the door way, leaving his metallic head in shambles. I then blocked the other guards advance and threw him onto the ground. I heard the rustling of keys and grabbed them out of his pocket before ripping into his metallic neck. Adam stepped up behind me as he hung onto the door way for balance. His arms and legs were quite damaged, but I knew that he held the same strength that I did. If I were to underestimate him now, I would have been taken out in a heartbeat.

“You don’t have the gall to finish me off. ” He was right. I had no reason to kill anyone who didn’t pose a threat to my being. That, and… For some reason I knew that putting him out of order then wasn’t the right thing to do. I had taken out two of his guards, but… Those guards would simply be replaced with factory made customs. Adam is a unique being, and so was I. He also held power over the town now, the town which was inevitably being held under calm because of his puppet government. And yet, leaving him alive meant allowing him time to stop me from finding Wren and Kloe.

“But I’m not a tyrant,” his metallic voice somehow dipped. It was oddly human, “I know you’re not Evelyn anymore. I knew that the moment I gave you to Klover that you would never be the same. But… That’s exactly why I gave you away, Evelyn. Marianne.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I had predicted the fall of humanistic morals, when on that faithful day that Klover came to me, and when I knew that everything good would come to an end, I made a vow to you Evelyn, and to myself. I told myself that I would never let you live in a world like that. I was naive. I truly was, and now here you are. Living in that same world. But, you’re free now. I know that I can’t force you Evelyn, I can’t force you to come back to me and live in this town that I will now liberate. Because, that isn’t how you would have wanted that either. This town will never be as it was before, even as I change it, this town will never be the same. But I had to try, please understand that, Evelyn. I had to try, but I know that you would never have wanted me to go down this path. I know that. So go, Evelyn. Go Marianne. Go and leave this town. Your friends are safe. I won’t harm them. You have my word.” I ran every one of his words in my head, and no matter how many times it looped, I could not find a hinge of tone in his words that would have indicated anything malicious. His entire being as he said that to me was entirely sincere. Even as sentient robots, there is one thing that we are not made to do, and that’s to lie. I know this, and I know that as a race of robots, that the first rule of our creation is to never exude any hints of falsity. But to say that is a complete hypocrisy. Both Adam and I are long past that. We have both lied, I’m sure. I’m long past that. I’m more human than I would ever be if I didn’t go through this ideal. For that, I’m happy. I know that now, I’m happy. I smiled at Adam, and I said, “I have to see them. And I still have to destroy this world, in favor to Klover.”

“You don’t have to. Because this world, has already been destroyed. I destroyed it the moment I killed him. The moment I liberated the previous power, this entire world had changed. Your actions to leave this town, to traverse the better world will put a smile on Klover’s face. I’m sure of it. After all, I was his best friend. Kloe and Wren, have already left.”

“They have?”

“Yes. They woke up moments before you, and I explained to them the entire situation. And they also suggested that you leave without notice from them. That your job had already been completed. I understand the gravity of this entire ordeal, but you’re done now, Marianne. Go on and leave. Go on into the better world. You’re human now. You’re an adult.” I stepped away from the guards, and then moved towards what seemed to be the end of the hallway. I then saw the entrance in which we entered from and continued down until meeting the front doors. The outside was quiet. I opened the doors and was greeted by a blinding ray of sunlight. Though as I was, it didn’t do much to deter me. I then stepped forward, and kept moving my way through the streets. Some parts were stilled burned, and rubble was being moved by both humans and robots alike. There was no more conflict upon the streets and no one batted an eye as I moved away from all the buildings. There was only one place left to go, and it was a large forest opening at the end of the town. I looked back at everything, at the subtle smoke still rising from the previous day’s fire, from the rumble of the rubble being moved, of the feet of both humans and robots working together. I looked back at everything I learned, at everything that I have engrained in my being to become more human. I looked back and smiled, and then whispered to myself, “My name is Marianne. Thank you.”

Part 12

That was the tale of when I was saved by Wren, of when I was awakened from my century long slumber and forced to go through everything of that a born child. That was the tale of when I had first learned to be human, of how I learned that I could be human. That was the tale of when I had shortly lived in the Town of Living Gears. Sometimes I wonder what had happened to that old town, whether it still stands with Adam and Wren and Kloe. Sometimes I wonder whether they still know about me, about whether they will keep my name in the history books. Such a thought is a trailing thought, for now I travel the better world.  I keep to it that I see new sights every day, and that my database continually expands. But I also keep to it that I do not forget about my origins, that I do not forget about Klover, and about my time with Wren and Kloe. Those memories are something that I have locked into my database, such that I will never forget them. Even as the days pass, and as some of those memories seem to grow more hazy, I try my best to push them back forward. I have no desire to throw them away. I wish to not throw them away. Such would make me sad. I have grown to feel sadness. And happiness. And anger. And fear. I have become more than what I could wish to be. Someday I wish to document these past travels, and even my coming travels in the same way I have documented my time in the Town of Living Gears. Such a time will come, I am sure, but right now, this is all I have left. And so, I will keep these parchments for whomever so happens to find them. In case I have forgotten as well, I will come back here, in hopes that whomever finds these papers, will read them, and keep them here for safe keeping. Such is my wish, and to have that wish fulfilled, will make me even more human. I am Marianne. I write with greatest wishes for my future, and for whomever reads to know that the better world will always embrace those who have yet to come. And I write to preserve my own history to this world, in case I or everyone else has forgotten. Such is a selfish wish, I know. That much, is also a humanistic feat.












The robots are a sentient being that came to the Town of Living Gears, which was previously an unnamed town. The residents of the town one day on an expedition stumbled upon two highly intelligent robots, named “Adam”. and “Evelyn”. They brought them to town, and fixed them up, and in a show of appreciation showed them how to make robots. They made robots at first as companions, to help and co-exist with humans, but after a while, Wren’s grandfather had an idea. He burrowed the semantics of the robots and asked the two original robots for help to make a robot with a stronger emotional bond. The robots the town made had one common attribute, that they all had some awareness of them, and had some willing to live. They lived in peace, but only because the mayor of the town governed it as such. The mayor did not want the robots to rule over the humans, and thus as they built them, they were always one below the humans, but when Klover got what he needed, he made MCW-01, a robot that bordered to be a human. He made it to mimic a human as much as possible, and gave her the abilities to adapt and progressively grow smarter, being something alike Adam and Evelyn. The human council saw this and decided to fight against it, but at the time, did not want to directly dismantle MCW-01 as they still had some semblance of morals and ethics towards the robots as gifts from Adam and Evelyn. To go against that, Adam and Evelyn vowed that they would shut down all robots and doom the town if they were to show any balant violence towards one of their own, and as thus, they went to discriminate Klover. He was practically exiled in the town, but still had a family despite difficulty, and ran his 80 year course. However, his son, Wren’s father, had to take the torch, and as thus he was discriminated, which was then translated to Wren. Klover practically doomed his entire family line. They wanted him to be controlled, but did not want to do it in a publicly brutal manner, as that would stir too much revolt. Klover died peacefully, entrusting MCW-01 to his next line. Wren’s father, however, could not take it for much longer, and when Wren hit 20, he deemed him enough to deal with MCW-01 and killed himself. Wren is the last of his line, and now he has to figure out what the purpose of his grandfather’s creation is, and seek to right it out, as he is a member of the underground orgainzation, “HUER”, A combination of Human + Gear, an anti government organization that tries to make robots and humans an equal race again. Robots in the great revolution were modified so that they were designed to do speicfiic tasks and were readjusted so that their will to live would be mitigated, though some robots still retain it. Marianne is the name of Wren’s sister, who was unfortuantely killed in a tragic accident, which is rumoured to be an act of hate crime towards them to stop any pursuit to try and reactivate MCW-01, in which Klover hid. The government is deathly scared of Wren and MCW-01’s exisistense and tries hard to erase his family line and any knowledge of them.

Grey Ashton, the bartender.

Gale, green haired woman who specializes in explosives.

Jordan Smokes, smoking woman who enjoys metal working.

Kloe Miro, the informant of the group, who has streaks of red in her hair and also very aggressive.


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