"Yes, you have to have a set of drones." gunmaxualMay 20 2012, 01:41:00 UTC
The file is so old it’s degraded, archives losing parts and pieces over the passing ages. Yet, still, Metroplex remembers.
"Yes, you have to have a set of drones," the mech in his memory said, ducking under a half-completed console.
Metroplex was younger, newer, and less aware of how duty always comes before self. "Why is it necessary? You are here. The other engineers are here, and when they are not, the builders are." He was never alone, and never lonely. His corridors rang with voices, and many hands worked on him every day.
The mech was older than him, and wiser, although his wisdom didn't make sense at the time. "Metroplex, we are a construction crew," he'd said, oddly gentle as he emerged from under the console to grab another tool. "Eventually, we will complete your construction. I know it doesn't feel like it right now with all of us crammed into your service ducts and stuffing information through your cortex, but there will come an orn when we pack up our things and move out."
The cityformer took a moment to let that percolate in his newly functional processors. The idea went up against all the data he'd gathered so far in his short existence, and doubt tinged his voice. "You will return?"
Regret and fondness filled the mech's smile. "If there's another project for us, of course. But I sincerely doubt it'll be the same exact team called back. You're a special project, and anything else you'll need once you're completed will have different project specs. Different people will come to work on you, and then they, too, will move on." His hand lingered briefly on the console before returning to work.
'I don't want you to move on,' the city didn't say, suddenly ultra-sensitive to every spark of life inside him. They laughed and worked and muttered to themselves, and he was abruptly aware of just how quickly they moved. They streamed out his exits as casually as they re-entered, and only now did he see himself as a worksite instead of a mech.
Something painful constricted, and his fuelpump skipped. Three engineers immediately did a diagnostic ping, but they couldn't trace the cause because the cause was an unspoken thought: 'Stay with me.'
He sought some sort of stability in his programmed directives and came up with a second of hope. "I'm to have a city commander. He'll be here."
Sympathy patted his console from the inside in soft words and sad tones. "City commanders are assigned, just like work crews. They, too, go away." The mech hesitated, even if his hands didn't stop working. Because he had a deadline, and now Metroplex actually knew what that meant beyond 'work must be finished by X time.' "That's how it's going to be, Metroplex. It's part of what being a cityformer means. Populations change. People get restless. They are going to leave you, and not all of them will come back."
2: "Yes, you have to have a set of drones." gunmaxualMay 20 2012, 01:41:39 UTC
It...hurt, to realize that. His body housed a seething community, a shell in which the organism lived and breathed in little bodies. It struck him so hard it skittered excess charge through him that his job wasn’t to keep that community trapped, but to shelter it. To enable it to continue growing, coming and going the way normal Cybertronians did. But Metroplex desperately, greedily watched them live and prepare to leave them, and thought, 'Don't go.'
“So.” The mech heaved himself out of the console again, getting to his feet. “You need drones.”
“I don’t understand?” The massive weight of responsibility was settling slowly into him, directives setting up his duties like a work harness.
“Drones can’t leave you,” the mech explained, snapping a panel into place. “They must be here all the time, part of you but separate enough to be independent if needed. You’re going to need that social stability, Metroplex. It’s the only guarantee you’ll ever have.” A twinge of sorrow filled the mech’s optics, but he only patted the console again. “My shift’s up. I’ll talk to you next orn, yeah?”
Eons later, long after construction completed and he’d been a city, then a ruin, then a battleground, and then a city once more -- Metroplex still remembers. He watches over the lives inside him. They move in. They move out. He protects them and keeps them safe, but in the end, he lets them go.
And in his old files, an empty room whispers, ’Come back.’
"Yes, you have to have a set of drones," the mech in his memory said, ducking under a half-completed console.
Metroplex was younger, newer, and less aware of how duty always comes before self. "Why is it necessary? You are here. The other engineers are here, and when they are not, the builders are." He was never alone, and never lonely. His corridors rang with voices, and many hands worked on him every day.
The mech was older than him, and wiser, although his wisdom didn't make sense at the time. "Metroplex, we are a construction crew," he'd said, oddly gentle as he emerged from under the console to grab another tool. "Eventually, we will complete your construction. I know it doesn't feel like it right now with all of us crammed into your service ducts and stuffing information through your cortex, but there will come an orn when we pack up our things and move out."
The cityformer took a moment to let that percolate in his newly functional processors. The idea went up against all the data he'd gathered so far in his short existence, and doubt tinged his voice. "You will return?"
Regret and fondness filled the mech's smile. "If there's another project for us, of course. But I sincerely doubt it'll be the same exact team called back. You're a special project, and anything else you'll need once you're completed will have different project specs. Different people will come to work on you, and then they, too, will move on." His hand lingered briefly on the console before returning to work.
'I don't want you to move on,' the city didn't say, suddenly ultra-sensitive to every spark of life inside him. They laughed and worked and muttered to themselves, and he was abruptly aware of just how quickly they moved. They streamed out his exits as casually as they re-entered, and only now did he see himself as a worksite instead of a mech.
Something painful constricted, and his fuelpump skipped. Three engineers immediately did a diagnostic ping, but they couldn't trace the cause because the cause was an unspoken thought: 'Stay with me.'
He sought some sort of stability in his programmed directives and came up with a second of hope. "I'm to have a city commander. He'll be here."
Sympathy patted his console from the inside in soft words and sad tones. "City commanders are assigned, just like work crews. They, too, go away." The mech hesitated, even if his hands didn't stop working. Because he had a deadline, and now Metroplex actually knew what that meant beyond 'work must be finished by X time.' "That's how it's going to be, Metroplex. It's part of what being a cityformer means. Populations change. People get restless. They are going to leave you, and not all of them will come back."
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“So.” The mech heaved himself out of the console again, getting to his feet. “You need drones.”
“I don’t understand?” The massive weight of responsibility was settling slowly into him, directives setting up his duties like a work harness.
“Drones can’t leave you,” the mech explained, snapping a panel into place. “They must be here all the time, part of you but separate enough to be independent if needed. You’re going to need that social stability, Metroplex. It’s the only guarantee you’ll ever have.” A twinge of sorrow filled the mech’s optics, but he only patted the console again. “My shift’s up. I’ll talk to you next orn, yeah?”
Eons later, long after construction completed and he’d been a city, then a ruin, then a battleground, and then a city once more -- Metroplex still remembers. He watches over the lives inside him. They move in. They move out. He protects them and keeps them safe, but in the end, he lets them go.
And in his old files, an empty room whispers, ’Come back.’
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Thank you!
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Thanks for reading!
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