WINDY SUMMER

Shrouded in darkness, ancient halls lie, undisturbed for generations. For centuries, these grounds have not been disturbed by a single soul, and as the sands of time drift away up above, the concept of time remains alien to the long forgotten corridors. Various posters and artwork line the walls, acting as a time capsule for an era long forgotten. They provide a brief window into what life once was, acting as a fleeting echo that now goes unheard and simply fades away. For tomorrow becomes today, and today becomes yesterday, such is reality, as brutal as it may be. Time had not been kind to the pitch black corridors that twisted and turned, creating a labyrinthine tomb, not too dissimilar to the veins of a decrepit corpse.

One would be wise to assume that this place was mere centuries away from becoming nothing more than a solid layer of stone, embedded even further below the surface, taking the relics entombed inside to an eternal grave of obscurity. Pipes moan and groan under the weight of the structure, as various pipes that had given up their battle with time could be seen on the cold, steel floor, now nothing more than rubble. Relics that exemplified a once fantastic civilization would soon congeal with the sand and dust that had begun leaking into the structure. From under the mounds of sand that buried the facility, one with a keen eye could ascertain what exactly was under the debris. At least, for now. It could be seen that there was a time various products lined these halls, the purpose of which varied depending on the establishment. However, what each merchant specialized in was hard to pinpoint, for before the building’s eventual collapse into the soft sediment below, the tide of time had eroded most everything of value.

Though, this was not always the case. Whether it be lost souls seeking refuge, scavengers picking from the wreckage, or something far worse seeking out survivors, there was always a reason someone or something was haunting these grounds. Because of this, anything of material worth had long been plundered. Now, all that remained were relics with no inherent value to a survivor, scraps that not even the most creative mind could find a use for. Though, what does remain would be actual gold to a scholar interested in the society that is now only spoken of in whispers and hushed murmurs. A society that some believe to be a myth. However, lining these halls is nothing but evidence and proof of such a world.

Many of the products that remained were of the recreational, leisure variety, which would have no use to someone suffering from malnutrition, heatstroke, or disease. And, certainly nothing that could aid in day-to-day survival. One can’t really eat a Billy Idol 8 track, as delicious as he may be. As such, many of the products that remain scattered about the premises would most certainly deserve a spot in a museum. What remained in the various establishments consisted of beheaded mannequins that once displayed the most sought after trends and fashions. Faded books that are now no more legible than your doctor’s handwriting litter the halls, their pages torn to shreds, leaving countless stories and studies untold and forgotten. Glass scattered across the grounds would join its kin, for the shards found themselves now buried in the mounds of sand, ready to become what it once was. And the neon signs the glass originated from fared no better, for most were one vibration away from disintegration. Decorative foliage had been reduced to ashen flakes, which were one gust away from fading from existence entirely.

Though these objects varied in usage, they all shared a common origin. Most, if not all of the products here were all manufactured by the same corporate entity. The name of their origin could be found labeled on practically everything in sight. From the torn remains of a skirt that once had a bright pink sheen, or an ABBA cassette tape that would never be played, the same company can be seen in the fine print or on the tag attached; Nebulous.

The more one thoroughly examined the facility, the more it could be seen that this was once a monolith of corporate achievement and avarice. Though products had various brand names attached to them, if one took a quick second to look at the fine print on the packaging, it could be seen as clear as day that it was merely the illusion of choice at play. Most, if not everything here was produced, packaged, and sold by one and only one company. No matter where you went, the name of this entity loomed and haunted these halls, infecting every facet of existence down here. The condition of what was once a bustling avenue for one corporation’s commerce now stands to the testament that one day every empire is destined to fall. No matter how great the achievement, or evil of an atrocity, time for anything and anyone is limited. What one does with that time, determines whether they become a grain of sand to be buried, or a permanent echo heard for generations.

Though Nebulous is now nothing more than a faded memory in the collective unconscious, their creation still stands as a testament to scientific ingenuity. Nebulous specialized in various facets of corporate dealings, and had their hand in an innumerable amount of industries. However, the pride and joy of the company were none other than the Nebulous Robotics Division’s Service Bots. Once used for assisting in commercial and industrial industries, they were soon extended into other aspects of life. Soon people looked to service bots for leisurely activities, such as performing comedy, playing music, or serving as an opponent in any game or competition. What were once a commodity, used by only those who could afford them, were soon a common part of life owned by most every household in the world.

At a time, they were heralded as a sign of humanity’s rapidly evolving nature and hopeful future, with many looking to Nebulous to lead the charge into the next frontier of science. These days this isn’t the case, with many only hearing of the corporation through word of mouth, considering it and the time it existed as nothing more than urban legend. Indeed, the remains of this society litter the surface, but no one truly understands the extent at which Nebulous reigned supreme, nor how bountiful the society it cultivated was. No one that wanders the wastes truly knows what happened to society, or the corporation that had it in the palms of its hands. Many do not care to know, as it would not change the fact that every day is a fight for survival. And many have never really thought about it to begin with, barely questioning the few remains they encounter on a day-to-day basis. How many civilizations rose and fell before your birth? Sprawling kingdoms and nations reduced to nothing but a footnote in the history books. Nebulous and the United States were no different. Many came before them, and many will come after. Such is the cycle.

The pride and joy of a once advanced society now lines the halls, no more valuable than the trash and debris burying them. Service Bots that never saw the light of day, now encased in a perpetual tomb of concrete and steel. They never knew life, and never will. Even if one were to find them with the express intention to activate one, they’d more than likely fail at this endeavor, as time has brought them beyond the point of repair. Whether it be a corroded chassis, or damaged essential components, many had a good reason for being essentially a metallic corpse. Many were outright missing parts, as over the centuries, many of their parts would be snatched by scavengers. An act that could only be described as prenatal grave robbing. Some of these scavengers were actually Service Bots themselves, and saw those who have never been activated as glorified organ donors. Finders keepers became the mantra for everyone who would discover ruins such as these. Macabre, but necessary for many just trying to survive the harsh conditions of the surface.

Despite this, among the disarray of empty Service Bots that littered these halls and the heaps of disembodied parts deemed too damaged or worthless, it would seem that the scavengers had forgotten one last Service Bot. For centuries, he would lie amongst his brethren, unborn and unknowing of the world that had forgotten them. No one had ever come to wake him up, and it would seem that he would remain here forever, to be nothing more than a relic of a time only spoken of in whispers. However, today that would change.

The unyielding silence that permeated and infected the winding and desolate corridors would finally be shattered. From the Service Bot buried under the metallic flesh of his kind, a high pitched beep would resonate and echo across the tomb. A singular antenna with a red bulb stuck out from under the heap of iron cadavers and began to shine a brilliant red. A dim glow illuminated the room. For the first time in hundreds of years, light would penetrate the veil of pitch that oppressively controlled the structure. The glow was synced up with the beep that still reverberated through the building, and it continually grew faster and faster before suddenly coming to a stop. From within the pile, clicking and whirring of mechanical components could be heard, before the bulb illuminated once more, this time remaining on a solid red. A delicate, soft whir could also be heard, as the service bot's internal fan activated. Moments later, the metallic bodies covering the lone service bot began to rustle and shift, when suddenly a singular arm jutted out from the pile, grasping at the air as it attempted to get a grip on something to pull itself out. Eventually, a second arm emerged, doing the very same thing, flailing every which way in an attempt to get its bearings. Soon, the desperate grasp would cease, and the arms would feel up the area directly beneath them, its hands touching everything in curiosity as it wondered what was the pressure that rested so heavily on it. From there, the service bot began to hoist itself out of the hoard of metallic husks, bursting from the tomb of iron that encased it.

As he suddenly emerged, he took a moment to rub his eyes in confusion and annoyance at his predicament, this being many of the idiosyncrasies service bots were programmed to do in order to be more relatable to the consumer. Such mannerisms had no practical value, but to even the service bot, felt natural to do. He took a moment to look down at his own hands, seemingly confused at their presence, as he twitched his digits and slowly created a fist to test their functionality. Once his vision focused again, he was able to get a better look at his surroundings, using his built in night vision to get a better look. He blinked curiously as he examined the state of the room, and tilted his head in confusion at the situation he had found himself in. As his consciousness had begun to get a grasp on what was going on, he only got more and more confused. Who was he? What is this place? And, are these… bodies?

The realization of what he found himself wrapped in was enough for him to let out an audible gasp of panic. He carefully began to turn his gaze downwards at the cocoon of metal flesh, as the reality of everything had begun to set in. The whirring of his internal fan began to pick up and hum louder as he grew more tense about the rather distressing position. In his panicked state, he frantically tried to remove himself from the mass of appendages and wiring, however with every erratic movement, he could feel himself begin to sink ever so slightly. He only grew more panicked, unable to remove himself from what many would surely consider a nightmare. He could’ve sworn he even felt the hands deep beneath him tug and scratch at his legs.

In a moment of clarity, however, he realized he needed to rationalize the situation before him and properly ascertain what was exactly preventing his escape. He hesitantly decided to investigate further down, and lowered his arm into the pile and pull out something he could feel wrapped around his leg. From the blanket of tin wrapping his figure, he pulled what had been keeping him tethered, and upon closer examination, it appeared to be a dismembered arm of another service bot. In disgust, he quickly launched the limp arm to the other side of the room, where it hit the concrete wall with a hollow clang before flaccidly plopping to the ground. Sighing, he continued to do this with the rest of the arms he felt groping and grazing against his entire body.

After another brief, tedious struggle, he was able to pull his lower half from the entanglement of limbs and wires, before tumbling down the mountain of robotic carcasses, landing on his face with a loud thud and crack. He proceeded to meekly pick himself up from the cold concrete floor and dust himself off with an annoyed static laden huff. Not liking the sound of that crack, he decided to run a quick diagnostic to see if anything of note was broken. However, he couldn’t find any damage reports in his internal systems, which gave him reason to believe that the damage’s extent was merely cosmetic. Oh well, hopefully it wasn’t too drastic. With yet another sigh, he decided to hesitantly proceed forward, his eyes darting around the room as he cautiously examined his surroundings, confused as to why he was even awake.

The desolate and forgotten room filled with the decrepit remnants of his own kind sent a shiver down his spine, and continued to make him uneasy the more he thought about it. He tried his best not to be unnerved by the heaps of dismembered limbs and decapitated heads, for maybe there’s a logical explanation for all of this. He looked to every corner of the room he found himself in, seeking a source for his sudden awakening. However, this was all for naught, as he only saw the continued decay and rot that permeated every inch and facet of this place. Carefully stepping over his fellow service bots, he continued forth and scanned anything and everything in his path, not finding anything of particular note.

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As he continued down the halls, he ran a subroutine to examine his memory banks with deeper attention to detail. However, the results came back as expected. As far as he was concerned, he was fresh off the assembly line. The only oddity he couldn’t help but notice though, was that he seemed to completely bypass the initial activation execution file, yet he’s up and running with no problem. Typically, a human user would have to input preferences through that to get him to the state he’s in now, and yet, here he is. Walking and exploring on his own accord, not sure exactly why, and what exactly he’s looking for. It isn’t like he was shut off and thrown away immediately either, as there would be at least some memory of who woke him up, but this wasn’t the case. Though his origins and the reason as to why he awoke so suddenly perplexed him, he came to the conclusion that moving forward would be the only thing to bring forth any tangible answers.

Glass shattered and cracked beneath his iron feet as he moved forward, the whirring from his joint servos being one of the only things heard as they echoed down the drab and gray corridors.. He took a few moments to examine the various ads that lined the walls, taking note of their condition. They seemed rather contemporary, and par for the course for the time he was built in, according to his database. And yet, they appear no different than ancient hieroglyphics. The colors on these supposedly recent works of advertisement were long faded, with the posters barely being legible. It was then another question occurred to him, where exactly was he? Not just in regards to his geographic location, but in time. Surely, the world beyond the walls doesn't reflect a similar condition. Perhaps they simply condemned this building due to its numerous, atrocious safety violations. And, yes, he has indeed been counting all of them, and making a game out of it. It is not very fun and he does not recommend it.

Continuing to wander, he had no luck in finding any sort of clues as to why he was awoken, however, he now had a better understanding of this structure. According to his internal databases, such a structure was colloquially known as a shopping mall. Or, at least that’s the closest approximation he could find. Once a bustling avenue for people to leisurely waste their time and money, this one appears to be past its prime, to say the least. It would seem these places were institutional monoliths to be reckoned with, as it felt like it ran for miles and miles.

My goodness, how did anyone leave this place when it was open? Surely there must be some sort of exit, otherwise customers would not be able to leave! Though… Perhaps that was the preferable situation for less savory moguls. He thought as he continued with his aimless trek.

His eyes grew heavy as the exhaustion began to set in. He wasn’t sleepy, simply emotionally exhausted from the endless walk through the mausoleum of pop culture. It seemed this place was built to be functionally endless, the various shops seemingly going on forever. Though, with this need for the amount of shops to be vast, that left their variety a lot to be desired, he presumed. He couldn’t help but notice how every so often, a store would essentially be a repeat of another. With how large this place is, it presumably had guests in the thousands, which would likely explain the need for functionally identical stores. He saw an ungodly amount of storefronts with the same ads for Cyndi Lauper’s She’s So Unusual album on the front windows, down to the same gaudy cardboard cutout that never failed to scare the hell out of him every time he passed it. With how many he’s seen, those cutouts could’ve been an industry on their own. He saw it again and again… time after time. As he moved forward, he got no closer to any answers, and the Laupers continued to taunt him.

She’s talented, but this is just getting a little excessive at this point. I’m having reason to believe that society has indeed collapsed and she has something to do with it. He says to himself as he passes her yet again, while giving her a little high five.

He doesn’t know whether it was the 45th and 54th time, but he had begun to give her a little high five every time he would run into a Cyndi cutout, and made a game out of it. This too, was not very fun and not recommended. Unless you meet actual Cyndi Lauper, in which case, he would recommend a high five. It’s Cyndi Lauper, why wouldn’t you?

Along his travels, the ads tormenting him weren’t the only thing he took note of. In fact, by the 60th time he passed a Lauper, he had amassed quite a sizable collection of interesting artifacts in the small storage compartment in his chassis. Among his treasure trove included, but was not limited to: one of the many Rubik’s Cubes he stumbled upon, the stupidest looking PEZ dispensers he could find, and an Ultra Man action figure. Surely, these would be of some use in his travels. Or so he told himself, as in actuality, he simply thought they were neat.

He tried to distract himself from the endless walk by picking these treasures up along the way, and fiddling with them as he explored, but these too began to lose their luster, and by the 90th Cyndi, he was nearly at his boiling point. Internally, his temperature began to rise as his fan struggled to keep up. Seeing this Cyndi was enough to set him off, but he was not eager to lose the game to her just yet. He angrily stomped towards her, and high fived the cutout hard enough to break the arm off entirely, causing the flimsy piece of cardboard to gently glide down to the floor. That’ll show her. He bested the temptress and beat her at her own game. With another static laden huff, he marches forward, moping to himself.

After about half an hour of aimlessly wandering, he saw her again. Oh, she had done it now. The mere sight of her was enough to ignite a figurative fire within him, as he was not built for literal fires. That is an add on that you could theoretically purchase at your local Nebulous warehouse. He stomped over to the cutout of the oddly specific celebrity that survived the tests of time, and proceeded to shake it about.

“I don't know who you think you are, but I am not appreciating these mind games, miss! So, if you were so kind, I implore you to cease this incessant torture!” He exclaims, “I know girls just want to have fun, but please-” he pauses as something catches his eye.

This one seems to be different from the others. So far, each cutout seemed to be for the most part, identical. However, this one appeared to be an outlier. Of course, a minor difference wouldn’t be something to make any particular note about, but this difference was too specific to overlook. Similar to the one he last saw… her arm appeared to be missing. Upon seeing this, his visual apertures narrowed as he closely examined the cardboard arm that lay not two feet from them. The realization began to slowly come to him, but he had to be sure. He unhanded the Cyndi and quickly made a one-eighty degree turn back and quickly retraced his steps to the previous cutout, with the arm he slapped off. And low and behold, there it was, in its dismembered beauty. With a brief eye twitch, he began to run back even further, to see more of the cutouts, and each one he passed had a noticeable difference from when he first saw them. In fact, each one had the same difference as the initial deviation. Each and every one was not a different cutout, but the very same Cyndi Lauper.

The only thing he had been successful in was wasting his time, and the time of anyone watching this pathetic attempt at escape. He was stuck in a loop and was none the wiser for what must’ve been at least an entire day. The realization was enough to send him to the floor, in the fetal position. He wanted to bang his head against the wall, but refrained, lest the vibrations send the entire mall crashing down on him. However, this might just be the favorable outcome, considering the fact that he is probably stuck down here for the rest of his life. Emotionally exhausted from the whole ordeal, he crawls his way to the nearest wall and props himself up against it, deciding to take a moment of respite. This was an embarrassment he needed hours to get over.

This moment would be short lived though, as mere seconds after he began to shut his eyes, a loud bang could be heard from within the store he was leaning against. His eyes shot open in surprise as the shockwaves caused the entire structure to shake. The ceiling above began to crack and cave, as streams of sand began to pour in, all from the soundwaves that tore through the interior. Piles of debris began to fall in not long after, while sand seeped in through the crevices in the wall. Entire walls began to cave in, as the true nature of the structure’s fragility was now clear as day. The time for the mall’s complete burial had come, as time itself was ready to consume these halls once and for all. It was evident that it was now do or die.

Quickly getting to his feet, the bot ran into the store from which he could hear the banging, which had continued to grow more frantic and desperate by the second. He took a moment to shoot his gaze to the Cyndi. Surely, it wasn’t her fault that he was a nimrod walking around in circles for hours on end. Though she taunted him, he did not believe she deserved death. Before making his escape, he quickly decapitated the head and stored it in him, as it’s all that he could fit. With his only acquaintance in tow, he made his way inside the store the sound was heard coming from. His eyes darted about the room, as the walls here too began to collapse and crackle as the floor flooded with debris and sand. He noticed it seemed to be coming from the back room, and scrambled towards it.

Within the room appeared to be another utility corridor that too was collapsing, albeit slower, as the walls appeared to be made of steel. Despite this, sand trickled from the ceiling and the twisting of iron could be heard faintly as the force of the earth exerted its will on the structure. The service bot ran down this corridor as fast as he could, twisting and turning down the winding hallway as his internal fan sounded as if it was about to combust. He continued to follow the metallic knocking as it grew louder and louder, before it sounded as if it was directly above him. He stopped to listen, and that is when he noticed the ladder besides him, leading straight up into some sort of shaft. Not wishing to take any chances by wandering deeper into the building, he decided to take the path that would directly take him up.

As he began his ascent, he could hear the structure below him completely collapse, as the tearing of metal screeched and whined. It was not long before it began to catch up with him, as it felt the shaft was slowly being dragged back into the depths of the planet. The space directly below him began to fill with sand, as it burst through the cracks and crevices of the utility shaft. After what felt like forever, he finally reached the peak, and pulled himself up to the floor above. Before him loomed a massive iron door, and from behind it, he could hear the desperate knocking that sent the facility into oblivion. Though he feared what the world beyond may be, he also feared being buried alive by the planet itself. As he could feel the floor below him begin to crumble and sink into the sand, he grasped at the door, undoing the iron locks and deadbolts, before turning the valve that would finally unlock the door.

With every ounce of his strength, he pushed forward as the rusted iron fought against him and creaked with every inch, the sound of its hinges screeching as centuries of rust was forced open. As he pushed, he felt the brilliant glow of the sun bless his body, and blind him at the same time. Though the harsh rays prevented him from seeing the world before him properly he continued to push, desperate to escape the maw of the planet, which grew ever closer. With one last push, he managed to open a gap, barely big enough for him to fit through. With his remaining strength, and a loud grunt, he forced himself through the ajar door and landed on glistening sands. He looked back, and could see the iron door, along with the metallic penthouse it was attached to quickly sink into the sand and disappear into the earth, like it had never existed to begin with.

He let out a grueling sight of relief as he harshly plopped his head into the sand, and let the punishing rays of the sun wash over him like a radioactive blanket. He needed a break, he had earned it. His metallic body shimmered in the sunlight and reflected light everywhere around him, becoming a shining beacon in the endless expanse. However, just like in the mall, his rest would be short lived yet again. Before he could let himself drift off into dream mode, and absorb some sunlight for some auxiliary power, he heard the smallest voice murmur out to him.

“S-Sir…? Um… That door, er, building was kinda my best bet to get outta this… h-heat… You wouldn’t happen to know somewhere I could get some w-water…?” Said the little girl that stood before him, looking down at him as her legs trembled weakly, her eyes sunken and lips chapped and dry.

[https://i.imgur.com/8IyFrvs.jpg]

He looked up at her in shock. Who let someone this young wander a desert? According to his sensors, it was easily 145 degrees out here. Who is she? Where are her parents? But, before he could get a single word in, she collapsed to the floor, passing out from what he hoped wasn't a heat stroke. He got to his feet and hastily hoisted her up, and lowered his own internal temperature in hopes of cooling her down while he thought about his next plan of action.

He looked all around, and every direction was the same story. Sand, and sun bleached monoliths in the shape of a skyscraper’s skeletal structure for miles on end. Almost nowhere with shade to place her. He could feel her get warmer as the sun beat down on them, while one question raced through his head.

What do I do?

[https://i.imgur.com/fMixjVq.jpg]