SILAS

Oh, hey. Where have you been?

I suppose, technically, you haven't been anywhere. I just haven't thought about you in a while. My imaginary reader. My invisible witness. And here I thought I was too old for imaginary friends.

You might be wondering what you've missed. After all, the last time we spoke, it was the middle of the night. Currently, it's the middle of the day. The sun is high and bright, forcing me to dim my vision using my OS as I observe the path ahead, like a pair of internal sunglasses.

That's because it's been hours since we made our way out of the winding canals and out onto the desert. The rocky terrain has been replaced by tall, seemingly never ending waves of sand, steep and cumbersome to traverse.

It's too damn hot. Yeah, I can dull the sensation with my OS, but that doesn't mean it goes away. It's more like taking Ibuprofen after cutting open your hand—no matter how many pills you down, you can still feel the dull ache of that pain underneath everything. The heat of this place is like that. You might even say it's starting to drive me a little bit crazy. But seeing as I'm talking to you, I guess we already know that.

Yes, I'm being sarcastic. But only a little.

I have to admit there's a certain beauty to this place. A certain silent majesty. Miles of sandy turf, stretching as far as I can see. Adamant and unyielding. But there is an eeriness to it, as well. The quiet, and the stillness. It’s uncanny. Even the hottest deserts in the world are supposed to have life. Their own little ecosystems. But I can detect nothing. No birds. No insects. No lizards scurrying from rock to rock.

If the rain from last night has had any effect on the desert, it’s not visible to me. No plant-life blooming, relishing in what should be a welcome increase in moisture. In fact, I can’t seem to observe any moisture at all. It’s all gone. Zapped away.

This place. It really couldn’t be less hospitable. It is not a zone for living things. Not anymore.

The ruins in the distance seem intent on emphasizing this. Tall, torn, and wind-scarred. Hollow husks. Broken relics of a bygone age.

My age. An age I’ll likely never see again.

But I don’t want to think about that, right now. It’s hard enough just putting one foot in front of the other.

It's slow going. Not just because I'm keeping pace with the humans, but because I'm dragging an incapacitated Biodroid behind me, gripping tight to the end of a long lead, looped over my good shoulder. The line goes taut every time I head uphill, and slackens every time I skirt down one of the slopes.

'The humans'. Is that how I think of Shiloh and Cade, now?

When I first woke up, it was impossible to consider that I might be anything besides...well, me. But a lot's happened between then and now. I can only deny the empirical evidence for so long. By all accounts, by all observable reality, I am an artificial being. I am a Biodroid.

I don't accept it--not entirely. I know my memories are real.

I just wish I could put it together. Make it make sense.

Shiloh doesn't see the logic of it, either, though I know she wants to. Though my mysteries pique her interest, perhaps when the time comes, and she does manage to help me put the pieces together, she'll then tire of me, like a videogame you've already one-hundred-percented, or a tool that's outlived its usefulness.

It took a bit of convincing before she was okay with keeping the hostile Biodroid--the one she tasered-- as a captive. To be honest, I'm still not sure she's okay with it. I can see her standing near the top of a steep slope right now, giving a sort of side-eye glare as she looks back at me. Although she might just be squinting in the sun.

You might be wondering yourself why I've held back, why I haven't killed him. It's not just the fact that my captive looks like Ethan. He is Ethan. I just know it. Even if I can't explain how I know.

I know. He killed Sal. You don't have to remind me of that. It seems only right to return the favor. And it would be in the process of protecting my new friends.

However, I made a promise to Sal, and it wasn't just to avenge her. It was to uncover the truth. To remember. And for all I know, this version of Ethan might be a piece of the puzzle. He might have some answers for me.

Also, the fact that he's technically my friend/acquaintance. That, too. And that's something I just can't logic myself out of. This might not be the Ethan I once knew, potentially. But every time I look at him, I see Ethan's face. I just can't bring myself to strike the killing blow. Not now, at least, while he's unconscious and defenseless.

Shiloh would prefer I did. She thinks the pros of keeping him around outweigh the cons, and the whole thing is a major risk.

Luckily, I've got Cade backing me up, so far. Not that I was going to let anything happen to Ethan, anyway. Not yet, at least.

Right now, our prisoner is bound, with a remote taser attached to his chest. If he moves, we'll zap him. Worked on me, right?

I'll have to decide what comes next once we get settled. Whenever that's going to be. I actually haven't thought it through that far.

Until then, I'll just have to ignore this weird tension in the air. Though Shiloh's normally amiable enough, finally heading out on this trip has really put her on edge. Which is understandable, given the circumstances, but it's giving me whiplash at the same time. Something's changed.

Maybe it's because I chose Ethan over her. A Biodroid, one of my own, over a human. Could that be it?

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Makes me think of that conversation I had with the ghost of my mother, when I was unconscious, and Shiloh was using Jacktech to hack into my memory. My mother...she said that one day I would have to choose. Between humanity, and the Biodroids.

She was wrong, though. I've already made my choice. I'm not gonna let some robotic regime pound what's left of humanity into the dirt.

Siding with Ethan, in this one instance...that's different.

I'm pretty sure it is.

"You mind stepping things up?" Shiloh says, calling down to me from the top of the slope.

Here it comes.

"Here's the thing about us robot people," I say, calling up. "We're kinda heavy."

Even as I say this, my front leg sinks a little into the sandy incline, making me lose a little of my purchase.

It's not just a matter of the guy I'm lugging behind me. I'm heavy as well, and that makes navigating the looser parts of the terrain difficult. Not to mention I'm still recovering from my injuries I got in the Daimon fight. I can only use one of my arms to hold on to the rope as I drag Ethan's weight.

Sure, I could step things up. I could blast through my energy reserves, jumping and plowing ahead through the sand as I drag Ethan behind me. But it wouldn't be efficient. And what am I supposed to do when an actual threat comes along? How am I supposed to kick things into overdrive if I've already spent hours using up everything I have?

"Weird," Shiloh says. "It's almost like you chose to take on all that extra weight."

I flash a look up at her. Really?

She folds her arms defiantly, blinking as beads of sweat try to fall down her forehead and into her eyes. Her see-through oxygen mask fogs and de-fogs with every breath.

"I'm not going over this again," I say. It takes some effort for a reserved person like me to bother with putting my foot down, but it has to be done. I'm not assertive, like Shiloh--in my past life, at least. But right now, I need to be. Just because she's some big shot in the Cloister doesn't mean she can push me around. And this is too important to let her.

"Well, maybe I am," Shiloh says.

Am I just now seeing that my personality and hers go together like oil and water?

I dig in, pulling on the rope as I march my way up the slant. "I don't think you realize...what you're asking me...to do..."

"Yeah?" Shiloh says, taking a couple steps toward me, keeping her balance as she slides a little. "You know, it's almost like you don't realize what's at stake, here."

"You've waited years to prove your father was right, once and for all," I say. "I think you can wait another couple of hours, if you have to."

It's a low blow, and I realize it as soon as I say it.

Shiloh grimaces. "You know that's not what I'm talking about. We can't afford to fuck around. You think Daimon's the last guy these Ruster's are going to send? And you're the one they're coming for, remember? You're the reason any of this is happening."

Actually, she has a point, there.

Would I really risk the lives of Shiloh's people, so I could the answers I so desperately want?

No. Never. It wouldn't be right.

In my mind, I can see my mother, lying on the floor in my Hall of Memory.

"She needs you, because you're special," she'd said. "But you don't need her. You have a destiny. And it's with your people, not them."

No.

There's enough madness in this world without me contributing to it. Always has been. Even before all of this.

Perhaps especially.

I halt, most of the way up the incline, bracing to hold myself in place. I can feel the weight of Ethan's body digging into my shoulder, pulling the line taut.

"Well..." I say, floundering. "Then...what? I can't just let him go. He's too dangerous to be running free."

"What I've been saying from the beginning," Shiloh says. "You need to neutralize him. If you're not willing to kill him yet, just maim him, like you did the other one."

I cock my head, staring up at her. "Just maim him? Seriously?"

"What? Is it really that big a deal? He's just--"

She breaks off, wincing at her own lack of tact, even if she does still look defiant.

"What?" I say. "He's what? Go on."

The tension builds, neither of us moving. Neither of us willing to give sway.

"Uh, guys?" Cade says, from somewhere beyond the peak of the incline. "I'm picking something up on my sensors."

As soon as he says it, a notification pops up in my feed.

Foreign object detected. Airborne.

Then, I see it. A little dark object, far overhead. As I inspect it, one corner of my vision zooms in on it, enlarging in my HUD. Still looks pretty blurry to me, but my OS seems to be able to identify it.

M-Class Aerial Reconnaissance Drone.

I let go of the rope, letting Ethan slide back down the slope behind me. I bring up my good arm, initiating Blast Protocol, aiming for that dot in the sky.

Shiloh turns in the direction of my aim, using one hand as a visor to shield her eyes from the sun.

It all happens so fast. Before I can even think about taking the shot, the black speck takes off with surprising speed, until it is so distant as to be undetectable.

For now.

To be honest, I doubt I could have hit it, anyway. Not at my current skill, and equipment. It was more of a reflex. Perhaps at some point in the past, I was able to hit a small target at that distance with a charged blast, and there's a part of me that still remembers that.

Ah, well.

I lower my arm, deactivating the Protocol. "It's a Recon Drone. We're being watched."

"Well, isn't that great?" Shiloh says, turning back to face me. "They've got us right where they want us. In the open. No cover. No way to defend against an aerial attack. Just one robot, using his one good arm to drag another robot across the entire fucking desert."

Before I can think of a response, she stomps up and over the edge of the incline, throwing up her hands.

She's right, of course. We're sitting ducks. Our enemies can strike at any time they want to, at whatever level they choose. They can send another operative this time, or three, or an entire army. They know where we are, and what we're up to. Meanwhile, we have no way of knowing what they're planning, or when they'll strike.

The only thing we have going for us is our resourcefulness, and our ability to make good use of the time we have. And we don't know how much time we actually have left.

"Hey," Cade says, stepping up onto the sandy peak, peering down at me.

His dark-red hair takes on a shiny orange hue in the sun. His nose and cheeks are already starting to look irritated and sunburned, contrasting with the rest of his pale skin. I have to wonder how many times he's actually been outside the Cloister before now.

Back at the Cloister, he's a tech guy. He doesn't go out on missions, or perform physical labor. He's skinny, with lanky features, and a sharp jaw. But what he lacks in physical ability, he makes up for with a certain mental hardiness, and an ability to navigate difficult situations with poise. It almost seems to come easy, to him. Even now, in the midst of all this, he appears unfazed. Almost bored-looking.

He takes turns looking between me and Shiloh, somewhere on the other side of the dune.

"You know," he says. "We keep thinking of this Biodroid, 'Ethan', as the problem. But maybe he isn't. Maybe he's the solution."

The steady crunch of Shiloh's boots come to a halt. "Care to elaborate?"

Cade shrugs. "Depends. Are you willing to have an open mind?"

Cade is often so quiet. I tend to forget how blunt and he can be.

"Just tell me, Cade," Shiloh says, finally. "Just...spit it out."

“Instead of trying to guess whether Ethan is going to be an asset or a threat,” he says, “Why don’t we found out ourselves? Why not go to the source?”