Special Delivery
The cicadas were out and singing around the pond that morning while Lavinia finished working on a small fishing rod. Arlo sat beside her in his folding chair, watching her. She’d tinkered with the rod ever since finding it at a thrift shop a month ago, usually forgetting it in the corner of the workshop whenever a new project diverted her attention. But that morning, the boy came out of his room to find an ecstatic Lavinia showing off the completed project.
He didn’t know why she cobbled a few boxes, old light switches, and cables to it. Or why Lavinia dragged him out to a nearby pond. But there they were, while Arlo sat watching as she tried to fix the fishing rod for twenty minutes with her emergency pocket screwdriver.
“Alright, I’m pretty sure this’s gonna work now,” she said.
Lavinia pressed one of the buttons with her thumb and pulled back, then flicked the rod forward. The hooked line shot out before splashing down near the center of the pond.
“Yes, it’s working now!”
Arlo smiled. “That’s wonderful, Lavinia. But why exactly did you make that?”
“What d'you mean why?” she asked. “It’s for you, of course! And I made it special, so you can use it with only one hand.”
She pressed another button, and the line began reeling itself in. Arlo looked from the rod to her.
“But… Why?” he repeated.
“It’s kind of a long story. See, when I was little, mama would take me out here whenever I was having a ‘Heavy Thoughts’ day.” The line reeled all the way in, and Lavinia passed the rod to Arlo. “And you’ve been having a few of those lately, so I just thought… y’know, maybe coming out here could help you too.”
Arlo looked down at the dangling hook. “Isn’t it customary to use bait or a lure for fishing?”
“Yeah, but I never wanted to actually catch and hurt the fish. Plus you can’t digest meat, so there’s not much point catching anything.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try this, then…” he said.
Lavinia smiled and picked up her own rod, casting it out into the pond. Arlo followed suit and landed his own hook near hers. They sat there for a time as their lines floated in the water. Around them the cicadas continued to sing, birds chirped, and the breeze shook the tops of the trees. Lavinia closed her eyes took a deep breath as it passed by them, rustling Arlo’s shaggy hair.
“Isn’t it nice out here?” she asked. “Just nature around us and the chance to soak in the calm?”
He nodded. “If I have to be out of the house, it’s nice to not be around other people.”
Then Lavinia’s fishing rod twitched. Arlo immediately turned to the end of it, where it twitched again.
“O-Oh, I think you have a bite,” he said.
Lavinia’s eyes shot open, and she looked at the pole as it twitched stronger. “That’s never happened before…”
She started reeling in but didn’t get far before the line completely stopped. Even pulling on the rod didn’t budge whatever she hooked. Then what looked like a white branch broke the water’s surface.
“Maybe you hooked a log?” Arlo suggested.
“It’s feeling like it… I might have to cut the line,” she said.
But before she could, the “log” lifted its head up and looked at them both—it was a white stag with Lavinia’s fishing line wrapped around one of its antlers. Arlo and Lavinia just stared at it in surprise, but then she recognized it.
“Wait, that’s—”
“Astus!” a man called from nearby. “Come on, Astus! Where did you go?”
The courier stumbled through the brush nearby, and likewise froze at the scene.
“Oh, Ms. Lavinia!” He lifted his goggles up, “I was hoping to find you today.”
“I thought I recognized that deer! Also, it’s just Lavinia.” She glanced over and saw Arlo’s confused expression. “This is a courier I met a couple weeks ago,” she explained.
The man nodded. “Michael Wilson, driver for the South-Central Caravan Corps. I was on my way to Blackwell’s, when Astus…” He looked over at the deer still wading through the pond. “Well, I guess he wanted to go for a swim first.”
“I’ll cut the line off him once he decides to swim back to shore,” Lavinia said. “But why were you hoping to find me?”
“Your order request. It took a little while, but one of your requests actually came through the main hub.”
“What order?” Arlo asked, looking up at Lavinia.
“Uh… Good question…” she replied, just as confused.
Michael produced his pocket notepad and flipped through it. “Let’s see… Here we go. Child-sized mecha components, emphasis on eyes and arms.”
“Oh yeah, I remember now!” She rested a hand on Arlo’s shoulder, “Which of those did you get?”
“An eye, back with the other delivery items on my wagon. You’re welcome to follow me back and claim it now. Er… Once I get Astus back to shore,” he added.
Astus snorted and flicked his ears, only continuing his swim with no regard to anyone and dragging Lavinia’s fishing rod into the water.
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Arlo and Mae
Arlo stood in front of the bathroom mirror, blinking slowly. The child looking back at him was one with two eyes; his original deep brown, and the new one that was vibrant green. And now that he could see with both again, he couldn’t help thinking about how strange the mismatched pair looked. But he could still see clearly again… Wasn’t that what mattered?
“Arlo?” Lavinia said from outside the room. “Everything okay in there?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Y-Yes,” he said. He opened the door, “I guess I was a little distracted… How do I look?”
She smiled. “Well, Eyepatch Arlo was pretty cool—like somebody from an old action movie—but you’re still just as much of a cutie pie.”
Arlo smiled too, then looked at his pinned-up sleeve. “Maybe that man will find a new arm next time.”
“Heck, he might. But it’d probably take me a little longer to figure out how to connect that than it did your eye. We could always try for a traditional prosthetic while we—”
“Hello? Is anyone here?” Mae called from downstairs.
Arlo froze and Lavinia looked back at the stairs. “O-Oh yeah, I forgot we made plans to go out tonight… We’re up here,” she called back.
They heard footsteps, then Mae came up into the living room. She was in a variation of the same style she always seemed to wear; in this case, creased beige pants, a wrinkled grey and purple striped button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and short black boots. Her sleek hair, which was dyed green before, was now a warm shade of auburn.
“Nice coveralls,” Mae said, looking over Lavinia’s simple outfit from that morning. “Ready to go?”
Lavinia blushed a bit. “Actually, I wanna clean up a little and change first. I lost track of time a li’l bit today. Just make yourself at home, this’ll only take me a few minutes.”
She hurried off and disappeared into her room in an instant, leaving Arlo and Mae alone in the living room. Mae glanced around and went to an armchair, dropping into it sideways with her legs hanging over one of the armrests.
“She’s always like that, huh?” she asked.
Arlo nodded some from his spot in the bathroom doorway. He was rooted to the spot and looking away from the unexpected guest.
“I remember seeing you with Lavinia at Vic’s before when she blacked out after two drinks,” Mae said. “There’s something different about you, though…”
“I had an eyepatch before, but now I don’t…”
“Wait, you did?” She looked over at him, “Huh. I thought it was something about your hair. Are you her brother? … Her son?”
“N-No, I’m just… just Arlo…”
She glanced around. “You two have a nice place here.”
“Thanks…” he said. “I try to clean up around here while Ms. Lavinia’s out…”
“Really? I could use somebody like you at Ivy Tower, my interns gave up on me a while ago.”
He glanced over at her. “You… have interns?”
“Well, I only call them that because one left to start his own radio station up north a couple years ago. They help keep Ivy Tower running, including keeping me from trashing the place.”
“Oh.”
Mae smiled at the boy. “You don’t need to keep standing there, you know. I promise I don’t bite.”
Arlo looked up at her hesitantly. He crossed the room and sat at the far end of the couch, glancing away again after sitting down. After a few seconds of heavy silence—interrupted now and then by Lavinia’s shuffling around in her room—Mae cleared her throat.
“So… Even if you aren’t her son, are you okay with me and Lavinia?” Arlo looked up at her, and Mae ran a hand through her hair. “I mean, it’s all platonic right now, but in the future… I dunno. It might be more.”
“Why would I need to be okay with it?” he asked.
“Because it’s clear you’re important to her, and I’m betting she’s important to you?” She sat up in the chair normally, “I just want you to know I’m not like, trying to steal her or anything.”
“I know that, but… thanks for saying so anyway,” he said. “It’s been a few months since Ms. Lavinia found me, but I’m still adjusting to being part of—”
“Alright, I’m ready!” Lavinia announced as she returned to the room, unintentionally cutting Arlo off.
Both the boy and Mae looked over at her. Lavinia was now in simple canvas shoes, black shorts that only went halfway to her knees, a white v-neck shirt, and an old denim jacket that was longer than her shorts. Arlo looked it over and realized it was the one her father wore in the family photo she showed him before.
“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” she asked as Arlo and Mae stared at her.
“No,” Arlo said. “Erm… Have fun, Lavinia.”
Mae jumped up from the armchair. “Why don’t you come with us, Arlo?”
“M-Me?”
“Yeah, we’re not doing anything too crazy,” Lavinia said, smiling at him.
“Well…” The boy stood up, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “Alright, I suppose I can go.”
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The Traveler
For two days, the Builder repaired an unexpectedly troublesome apartment complex. The tower sank down into its foundation after three significant supports failed, either Back Before or sometime after. It meant the Builder had to lift what remained of the building up and set it aside until those supports could be repaired. Luckily, the structures in those ruins and in most others were designed with such a need in mind.
They separated by floor and section, even with the years of rust over their release mechanisms. The Builder dismantled the complex and scattered the pieces all around that part of town, laying them across cracked roads and overgrown parking lots. It looked as though the city had suddenly ballooned in size in just a day. And it was all observed by the solitary figure who sat on a nearby rooftop.
The girl sat with her legs dangling over the edge. Beside her was a massive bag of assorted goods, at least two of three things the size of her body. She watched as the Builder dug out the pile of debris from the basement and around the foundations, amused as if it were all a show.
“You Builders are always neat to watch,” she said.
“Thank you, individual of indeterminate origin,” the Builder replied.
Its chest opened, revealing a massive furnace. The Builder began scooping up huge handfuls of debris and dropping it into the flames.
“What’re you doing?” the girl asked.
“Clearing debris,” the Builder said. “Inorganic materials will be repurposed for use repairing this structure.”
“Inorganic, hm? What all is in there?”
The Builder looked down at the rubble. “Concrete, lime, and glass residue are the largest inorganic components.”
“If you specify inorganic, that must mean there are organic components in that mess.” The girl started kicking her feet, “Isn’t that right, Builder?”
“Yes.”
“What organic components are there?”
“Bone,” it said. “The primary organic component is human and animal bone. Many humans find this fact distasteful, so we do not commonly share this aspect of our work.”
The girl smiled. “I’ll keep your secret. Do you use the organic components to rebuild?”
“That would be an efficient use of remains, but my ‘Respect the Dead’ protocols prevent this. Cremated remains are stored internally until a suitable expulsion point has been identified.”
“Blech, that’s gross,” she said, sticking out her tongue.
The girl looked back over the town. Half of it looked brand new, while the other half was still in ruins. But it was a sporadic difference; newly repaired buildings surrounded derelict ones. And near the river was a big pile of broken glass for some reason, glittering in the afternoon sun. It seemed that Builder had a strange method for completing its tasks.
“Say, can your Builder Senses detect everything in that rubble pile?” she asked.
The Builder stopped. “Please repeat your inquiry.”
“There’s something that should be buried under that building. An old hunk of metal and artificial flesh made up of a bunch of stuff, all weighing about sixty-eight pounds.”
“One moment, please,” the Builder said, staring down at the rubble. “There is an inorganic item matching your description, though only eleven pounds.”
It reached down and pushed a single finger deep through the bricks and concrete, then pushed around a particular spot. The Builder pulled something out and sprayed it off with a liquid from its finger. The girl stood up and swayed from one foot to the other in anticipation until it finally dropped the item onto the roof beside her.
“This… This is an arm,” she said, nudging the appendage with her foot.
“Affirmative,” the Builder replied.
The girl reached down and picked up the arm, separated at the shoulder where wires and the metal frame were still visible. And near the wrist was a familiar scar that confirmed whose arm it was—and made her smile. The rest of the skin was scratched a bit here and there, but the limb was in otherwise perfect shape despite being at the bottom of a rock pile since Back Before. It didn’t even have a single broken nail. The old mechas really were built to last.
“And you’re sure there’s nothing else matching this in that pile?” the girl asked.
“Not according to my sensors,” the Builder replied.
She draped the arm around her shoulders like a scarf and climbed up the mountainous bag beside her. Inside was a heap of assorted goods; shoes in various styles and sizes, clay pots, colorful plastic toys and dolls, a guitar, books haphazardly dropped in, half-burnt candles, and plastic bottles, among other treasures. And near the top were three smiling metal skulls, still with scraps of artificial flesh and hair attached. The girl giggled and tossed the arm in beside them, then slid back down to the roof. She brushed off her white cardigan and skirt and looked out to the town and bridge leading off into the forest across the river.
“Silly Arlo, always leaving your things lying around…”