Usu (11 page)

Reality struck Usu straight to the head like so many other things had done on this journey, and while reality was seemingly less physical than a touch screen display panel (for a completely coincidental example), it stung far more. He had no choice; before him was merely the illusion of it. Waiting for her was the only choice he could make even if he lived a thousand lifetimes over. The choice would always be the same. Steeling his heart, he nodded with determination filling both his heart and eyes. Rain had waited for him, waited so much longer, and he could never refuse her the same courtesy.

Modbot looked startled. “Y-You’re just going to wait a hundred and thirteen years?” Changing his orientation to the floating Scotsman, he continued. “What even takes that long anyway? You building her a body made from half-burnt Woolworth’s coupons?”

Manchester was already busying himself after witnessing Usu’s resolve; half his body was stitching up Mercury while the other half kept flipping through thousands of schematics, but he did say this much, “Nae at a', that wouldn't! Ah will have ta grow it, hoping it steals shape from whatever auld memr’es o' her are left in this wee pebble. 'N ye rabbit, you'll need ta be thar when she wakes up, ta remind her o' wha' she was, 'n help her become what she wants ta be.”

With those simple, barely intelligible words, time was forgotten. Minutes became months and hours fell ill without hegemony.

The world withered as it always had, and a small white rabbit slumped against a massive watery chamber for much of it. He would not look, he would not fear, and he would not count.

He would only wait.

Years, decades, and a full century scattered around him, blossoming only his regret for making Rain experience that same wait he now did. But it was all he could do, and all he could promise this girl he held so dearly. He didn’t care if she looked the same, or even if she remembered him, he felt the world needed someone like her in it, and his world might as well not exist without her.

Eventually, even thought became secondary, nothing could move him anymore. No matter the visitor, he lay motionless, every ounce of his life hoping for the one behind him. Hoping she could try and sneak in his bed again at night, and that he could bring her joy with tinkered toys of delight. He wanted to see her scream at a book for being too long, and then cry because it never should have ended.

His nearly lifeless body, long since numb from the cold of the glass he rested against, shuddered. Mere moments later, glass and water crashed around him, scattering like the petals of lost civilisation they were. Two arms wrapped around his chest from behind, and before his fraying body could turn in even the slightest, a wet head was touching his own. There was a small giggle, a forced back tear and one little girl could only whisper, “I missed you.”

You, as a completely normal individual, may at times find yourself wondering a fair deal of things. Does that sandwich taste better upside down? Which way is upside down? Is lithium an acceptable seasoning?

Contending that you might not be a perfectly normal addict however, and thus a reader instead, makes for far more complicated questions. Just what did Modbot do all those narratively-truncated years in which Rain spent incubating? Did Mercury’s arm ever get repaired?

Modbot spent many of the first few years watching over Usu and Rain, occasionally making sure Manchester wasn’t trying to retrofit their internals into musical instruments. Mercury on the other―previously dismembered―hand, tried her best to keep everything business as usual. Her father was far too preoccupied with staring at an artificial growth chamber to bother with her rather urgent repairs. Yet, the quasi-legal body part industry would wait for no man, no woman, and certainly not one with the forceful demeanor of Mercury.

Of course, she was smart enough to string together a collection of replacement arms on her own. Her chambers quickly became lined in enough right arms to cause even her father's chin to quiver perplexedly. For fun, she’d try cannibalizing one every now and then, which had less of a regrowth effect than it had terrifying a certain all-purpose janitorial robot that may or may not have wandered into her chambers one particularly dull day.

“Right, I saw that! You can say whatever you like, butter me up with all your posh curse words, but I definitely just saw you eat that vintage nursing-unit arm!”

Wires still slurping into the abyss of her shawl, Mercury simply replied, “Bleeding hell, it’s been twenty-five years already, get a hobby!”

Modbot, not to be outdone by anything other than everything, was quick to proudly retort, “This is my hobby!” before realising that it didn’t quite come out as empowering as he had imagined it would. “I thought about it you know.”

“About what?” In a rare compromise from Mercury, she feigned ignorance to continue some semblance of a conversation.

“Heading back to New York, cleaning some more things, shouting at stainless steel for being stainless. But is that what really matters in the grand scheme of things? You lost your arm and gained a fetish, whereas I almost paid attention to the plot. I’d say we both wagered an awful lot not to see this through.”

“Wait wait, paying attention to the world around you does
not
equate to liquidating my fucking arm several meters below sea level. These aren’t fetishes either, they’re, they’re… options!” Mercury quickly blurted.

“Options? You mean breakfast, brunch, lunch, and dinner? I suppose you’re at least getting some variety in your diet.”

“Not the point you copper cockatrice! We were breaching meaningful territory here, about our lives or lack thereof, and there you go obsessing about one little arm that happens to be digestible. Would it make you feel more comfortable if I said your right arm is particularly unappetizing?” Her words hurt Modbot in a profoundly deep way that we’re not really going to pay any attention to at all, but you should keep in mind that they did. He’d never been especially proud of his right arm, but he’d at least always thought it edible! The revelation shook the foundations of his artificial confidence scripts.

This sort of banter wasn’t exactly new ground for either of them. The years and even decades flew by, but neither would rightly admit how they longed for those brief days together. Modbot, out of pride and Mercury, presumably because she was either too busy stealing limbs or nonchalantly consuming them. Still, every morning she’d secretly watch over Usu and the seed of flesh behind his furry, broken body, threatening accidental murder against Manchester whenever he had inspirational ideas that might rightfully muck things up.

They’d lost track long ago, just how long had they spent their days watching over him? Bickering and bantering through twilight hours, each had grown accustomed to the other, and despite their engineered differences, a common hope kept a flame inside each of them bright, unwavering against the winds of time.

Neither had a reason to care, neither was supposed to have the circuitry for it in the first place, but strangely akin to neuroplasticity in the rather dead humans around them, they found themselves rewriting their own principals during their journey. Granted, things like recreational cannibalism and the mounting of random objects to one's
chassis might not be the best examples of where that road had lead them, but it was a road few of their kind had ever walked, and one that even humanity had struggled to find in the mists and muck of their own undoing.

Not being the editor who insisted on the creation of a side story, you may find yourself between a rock and a bored place right now. The rock was put there to bludgeon yourself with, the bored place a rather apologetic burial mound for your expectations. Though before you cover yourself with that last patch of proverbial dirt, I should make it clear that all hope for a worthwhile narrative was not quite yet lost.

Rain, or at least what claimed to be her, was changing by the day, reflecting the memories of the one who waited for her. The gem Mercury had sacrificed part of herself to create, the shield for her persona, had long since come undone. Fragments adorning the edges of her tiny body, finally taking shape after countless years of dormancy.

With but a breath they anatomically could not possibly have had, both Modbot and Mercury finally found themselves possessed by the same forces of stagnation that held Usu so tightly. Even if their feelings could not compare to his, they found a synthetic synchronicity, and a dull ache replaced their curiosity.

They watched.

They waited.

And in an instant, a small familiar frame rejected the glass that bound it, broke free from the curse of time and whispered life back into Usu’s forlorn figure.

Jayde Ver Elst is a critically-ignored author with an unrivalled track record of not being set on fire by his reader base. Specialising in sloppy wit and emotional trickery, he’s almost certain to have been accidentally murdered by someone once you’ve read this.

About the Cover Artist

Moa Wallin is a Swedish artist and illustrator. Her detailed and imaginative paintings walk the line between the adorable and the absurd, occasionally tipping over to either side.

To see more of Moa's work, visit her website at
www.moawallin.com