Image of two unknown figures standing amongst empty sand dunes. One of them is holding a disembodied cyborg arm. [https://i.vgy.me/yxSO35.png]

"This is a very old chassis," one of the scavengers said, looming over the decaying cyborg. "I think we could get a lot for it if we decided to sell the parts."

The two scavengers, one a purple figure with short stature and long wiring protruding from the back of the head, the other a light pink with bright, piercing amber eyes, both observed and admired the find. They had found its legs sticking out from the sand dune a couple dozen miles from a cyborg encampment, and had dug the rest out to inspect its value.

"The cyborgs will pay an arm and a leg for... well... the arm and leg by themselves. A thousand credits each for the fingers. Look at how rugged the hands are... it might have been a hunter."

"Hunters are always willing to pay a lot if we tell them it's from another hunter... even if it's not really," the pink one said, laughing. "They think of it like 'absorbing' one another to gain their strength. It's very strange."

"I'm glad I've never been on the wrong side of one. They're ruthless, deranged," replied the purple one. "Kill anyone asked for a handful of credits."

"They're not that bad, they have standards at least. Not like us, but you know, like a code of honor. Usually."

"Are you sure? I mean look at it," the scavenger kicked at the cyborg's limp body. "It wandered off into the desert to die. Took terrible care of itself. Where is their honor when they let their own end up like this?"

"Their code is more informal. Won't take your dinner if you don't take mine, you know? The younger ones insist on it."

"That's not an original code. That's the law of exact retaliation. Code of Hammurabi. Book of Exodus, even. They didn't come up with it, they probably just adopted it because it supposedly justifies their excessive infighting..."

"You've read many books, friend."

"You best believe it."

They poked at the cyborg's body once, twice more.

"I hear they die quickly if left in the sun for too long. Is this one dead?"

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"Yes, I think so. I don't see much else operative from the exterior. We can always have Ornery inspect the brain to look for activity. There's no reason we couldn't salvage the rest of the body even if the brain is active. It's probably nothing that can be resurrected even if there is a spark of life."

"I hate to think of what had happened."

"Don't think of it. We don't do this to ourselves. We would never. They do not care for each other, they fight for resources. We have never needed to."

"Still, my utmost sympathy for the deceased."

"You're new, hm? They all die eventually. We do too, but you know, not for millennia. We don't take from the earth like they do. They live off of a dry world that they were not kind to, while we pick from their relics."

The purple one flipped the cyborg onto its back.

"The spinal column alone could repair sixteen of our bodies. The fingers could buy us years' worth of relics from the cyborgs. Do you think we should? It doesn't need these parts now. There is nothing to move it."

"I'd say, at risk of sounding like a vulture, you know, it's free game."

"Vultures are not unfair. They pick at what's left, they aren't usually predators in the sense that they attack anything living. They aren't geese."

"Are vultures still around? I didn't think..."

"No, they're long gone. Well. They may still live outside the desert. At the edges. I've never seen one. Of course, there are the clones, but you know..."

"I think they have some sort of cooling mechanisms in the head," said the pink one, gesturing to their own disorderly scalp. "Something with the ruffles of the skin."

"They piss on themselves, I know that." "I don't know what that means."

"Are you young? Have you seen urination in flesh humans?"

"Oh, right, is that slang? I understand. Yes, I've seen it."

The two stared quietly for a time at the body in the desert heat.

"I suppose we could-"

The pink one reached down, twisting the leg from the corpse. It came off easily, as the connecting locks and joins had worn down over the past months.

"We could dismantle it, take it home. Decide what to do then."

"Yes I agree," said the purple one, leaning down, pulling the head from the torso with a tight twist. With a click, the appendage came free from the socket. "No sense leaving it out here, something this valuable. Even if we don't resell it, the materials could keep our commune living for decades."

"The entire buffalo, I suppose," said the pink one. "They said that about the indigenous humans you know, they used the entire buffalo, every gut and skin."

"I don't know what a buffalo is," replied the purple one. "I think people say a lot of things, you know, that aren't real."

"And besides," they continued. "We are not indigenous, or rather, are not having our land invaded or anything that would justify a comparison."

"Well that's true," said the pink one. "I just think we should use the whole body in that sense, if we do. This haul is worth its weight in credits."

"We don't need credits, remember though," replied the other. "We can live without that drive. It is just a game they play, it means nothing."

"I understand, yes."

The two continued to dismantle the cyborg's body, lifting and pouring sand from its chassis. The various pieces were loaded into their sacks, before they proceeded to walk off into the desert. The coast was not near, but they did not care. They did not tire. Enevelen, however, was very tired, and barely conscious.