“Come on, this way!” Wyn beckoned Azim, making his way to the edge of town.
The robot followed the boy, his cloak flickering in the gentle breeze behind him. A few minutes later, they arrived at the edge of Milkwood Forest, just a few meters from the outskirts of town. In front of them was a flurry of trees, all blending into one another due to their wispy branches and intertwining leaves. The path ahead of them was poorly lit because the trees were packed so tightly together that the coverage of their tops blocked out a majority of sunlight. None of that mattered, though, because what the two had come here for was already in front of them, at their feet.
Littered about the ground were lone clumps of sprouts peeking out from the ground. The ground was halfway between dirt and grass, which meshed perfectly with the forest ahead of them and the town behind them. The boy walked over to one of the sports sticking out from the ground and pointed to it. “These are what we need,” he explained to Azim. “Well, not these leaves specifically, but what’s buried in the ground underneath them.
“What is it that we are gathering?” Azim asked, confused.
“I told you, turneeps,” replied Wyn, who looked almost put out by having to repeat himself. How could this stranger not know why they were here?
“I am afraid I am unfamiliar with the terminology. What are ‘turneeps’, Wyn?”
Now the boy was really surprised. This guy didn’t know what they looking for? He had never even heard of them? Wyn thought he was supposed to be the kid, and yet this guy, whoever he was, had less information about the world than him! He took a second and remembered what the robot had said earlier. He was not from Milkwood, that much was obvious, but from the way he had answered Wyn, it sounded like Azim wasn’t exactly sure where he was from. The boy figured it was probably some remote town, so small and desolate that it did not even have a name. He assumed those who lived in it were practically hermits, oblivious to the rest of Irvana. That must have been it.
“Well, turneeps are little creatures that grow crops off their bodies,” he began. “They have sprouts on the tops of their heads, that’s what all these things are. They don’t go all the way underground because they gotta’ feed off the sun or something. That’s what my dad says.”
“Photosynthesis,” Azim interrupted.
“W-What?”
“The process by which plants use their leaves to feed off the sun, soaking in sunlight and converting it into energy to sustain the plant’s life. The process is called photosynthesis.”
“Um, okay, yeah… so anyway, they ‘photosynthesis’ with their sprouts, but the rest of them stays underground to hide. It’s also how they grow their tail bulbs.”
Tilting his head to the left slightly, the robot asked, “What are their ‘tail bulbs’?”
No longer annoyed, Wyn happily answered the android’s questions. He could understand the genuine curiosity that must have been within Azim. After all, if he had been in some tiny town in the middle of nowhere, he was going to need to learn these things. Wyn felt responsible, like a teacher. Being only 8, he had never felt responsible for something until today, with his parents’ task for him. He had never felt like he was needed, just that he was around. Sure, he was still a boy, and he might’ve earned some real responsibility eventually. Even the gathering runs were a level of responsibility in some regard, he supposed. But this felt different. He was helping someone. Helping someone else who needed him. And it felt nice. So he continued his lesson.
“Tail bulbs are what grow behind a turneep while they sleep underground. What we do is pull them out of the dirt by their sprouts and pluck the bulbs. They’re pretty yummy, they can be used for cooking or just eaten raw, though I don’t like ‘em that way. My dad does, though. Anyway, you only pluck the bulb, you don’t take the whole guy. Then you just put them back in the dirt, and they go back to sleep. Because we leave ‘em alone, they grow their tail bulbs back and we can pick them again, without ever really hurting the turneeps themselves!”
Azim admired the practice that these farmers had learned, as well as the concept of turneeps as a whole. The idea of a food source reproducing its supply of food without needing to be killed for food itself was rather remarkable in the robot’s eyes. It only made Azim more curious to see them himself.
“This is all very interesting, Wyn, though I am still curious about one thing,” replied the robot. “Why did you need my help with this task, or anyone’s for that matter?”
“Well, they’re really hard to pull out of the ground,” Wyn responded, a bit embarrassed. He then tried to pull out the sprout in front of him but was met with significant resistance. “You see?”
The boy explained that while he had helped his parents a few times with uprooting wild turneeps, he had never actually been the one to pull them out. He was usually tasked with carrying them home, but today was the first time he had ever been responsible for digging them up. Wyn was hoping that someone, that someone now being Azim, could help him pull out the sprouts so he could take them home and not disappoint his family. He mentioned again how he wanted to make his family proud, and not be a burden.
The robot, not saying a word, walked over to where the boy stood, bent down close to the sprout by his feet, and yanked the turneep out with one hand. “Woah!” yelled Wyn in disbelief. “Even my dad can’t do it with just one hand! How’d you do that?”
Azim stared at the strange, little vegetable creature in his hand. It was just as Wyn had described. Hanging from the sprout was a whitish-tan bulb of a thing, with stubby little hands and feet that just looked like points. Behind the main body of the turneep, sagging slightly, was a similar-colored bulb attached to the living vegetable’s butt, with a small point coming together at its end. It had tiny, beady eyes that were adjusting to the sudden sunlight and a petite half-smile. It was a weird-looking creature, but in a way, oddly cute. The robot handed the turneep over to Wyn, who gently plucked the bulb from its back. Azim watched, noticing that the vegetable did not appear to be in pain. Not only that, it was not making noise of any kind, save for a low, almost inaudible murmuring sound. Wyn placed the turneep back in the hole that the metal man had ripped it from, before shuffling the surrounding dirt back over it, leaving only the sprout exposed once more.
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The two continued their work, shuffling through the loose dirt to uproot turneeps and pick their bulbs. As Azim yanked on the sprouts and left the creatures behind for Wyn to pick through, he thought to look up and observe how the boy was doing. He stared intensely at the boy’s warm, faintly tanned skin and almond eyes. In his eyes, the android noticed a tenderness. A softness that looked warm, as if the boy was living out a future-core memory in real-time. Beyond that, the robot noticed the boy’s smile. It was slight and subtle, but revealed an innocence to the boy that he had not previously displayed. Azim thought about what the boy had told him. About his parents, about how this was his first time working on his own, and how he didn’t want to disappoint them. Azim, of course, could not read the boy’s mind, though he quickly remarked to himself that it was not so farfetched to believe that some people in this world probably could. Instead, the android could only analyze his facial expressions and movement patterns and make judgments based off of pre-existing understandings he had of human mannerisms and their correlations to emotions. Staring at Wyn, pausing for a moment, he asserted that the boy must have been proud of himself, and happy, though he acknowledged there was a high probability that he was missing something. Wyn looked up and caught Azim gazing at him. “Uh… you okay?” the boy asked. “You’re, uh… staring.”
The robot perked up in surprise at the accusation. “Oh. I apologize,” he quickly responded. “I did not intend to make you uncomfortable. I simply found you fascinating, and what you stated about your family made me curious. I apologize for any discomfort.”
The boy laughed. “You’re weird. It’s alright, though.”
Ripping another turneep out of the ground, Azim and Wyn both stared as the living vegetable before them stretched out its stubby arms, reaching for the robot. Wyn told Azim to put the creature down so that they could see what it wanted. As he did, the android was astonished to find the turneep waddling over to where he was crouching and trying to climb up his leg. Helping the little vegetable up with his right hand, the robot watched as the turneep stood on his knee and hopped, stretching its arms in the air again.
“I… think it wants you to pick it up,” Wyn commented.
Azim grabbed the turneep once more and held it up, so that the creature was at eye level with his face. The turneep reached its arms forward, unsuccessfully grabbing at the metal man. Azim turned his head back, the hood of his cloak casting a shadow over half his face. “Why is the turneep acting in this manner?”
“Well, they have their own personalities, I guess,” replied the boy. “That’s what my mom says. She says every one of ‘em is special, just like us. My dad doesn’t think so. He thinks they’re all grumpy in the sunlight, and that’s why they’re so quiet. But maybe my mom’s right. Maybe this one is friendlier than the others, and for some reason, just really likes you.”
The android looked back and eyed the fidgeting turneep. “Hm…” he hummed. “Peculiar.”
Azim set the infantile creature down and returned his attention to Wyn.
Finishing up their work, the metal man and the boy walked back into town carrying about 10 tail bulbs each. The boy had a beaming smile stretched across his face and walked jauntily down the dirt road. Eventually, the two made it to a small house, noticeably simpler than the rest of the neighborhood. Wyn knocked on the door with his foot, prompting a woman to open it and greet them. She was human, with similar skin tone, eyes, and black hair to that of Wyn. She looked about 30.
“Hi, mom!” Wyn beamed.
“Uhm, hi…” she smiled, doing her best not to stare at the metal-covered stranger next to her son without being obvious. “Who… who is this?”
Wyn was still holding his haul proudly. The boy replied nonchalantly, as if there was nothing spectacular about the scene before his mom, “This is Azim. He helped me with the turneeps. Azim, this is my mom, Layn. Where do you want these, mom?”
The boy’s mom crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. She had no idea how to process the situation before her. “Sir, pardon my concern, but who are you? And why are you with my boy?”
“Mom!” Wyn interrupted.
“Hold on, I’m not upset or anything… yet. I just want to know what’s going on.”
“I apologize for any confusion or surprise at my being here,” the android’s monotone stated with sincerity. “Your son requested my assistance while I was walking through the streets of this town. He informed me of the job that had been asked of him and how he was nervous to accomplish it on his own. He requested my help in picking up these crops, so I aided him before following him here to deliver them. I will leave after dropping these bulbs off and be on my way. Thank you for understanding, ma’am.”
“See, mom?” Wyn interjected. “Azim was just trying to be nice. Don’t be mean to him.”
Layn put up her hands in an innocent gesture. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Thank you for helping my son, I really do appreciate it. I know he was nervous about this. But you have to understand why, as a mom, I would be nervous. I just want to keep my kid safe, you know?”
“I understand your concerns, ma’am. It is of no offense to me,” replied the metal man. “I am glad I was able to help your son, he is a remarkable young man. He cares very deeply about you as well as his father, and values making the two of you proud.”
“Azimmm!” grumbled Wyn in embarrassment.
His mom put a hand to her mouth and giggled. “Is that so?”
“Great, man, now I’m never gonna’ hear the end of it from them,” the boy mumbled in exaggerated annoyance.
Layn eyed the metallic stranger again. Inside his shuffled cloak she saw thin, shining arms and legs, as well as a cylindrical, metallic abdomen. He had a very peculiar build, one the woman had never seen before. “Sir, your armor… how do you fit in it?” she finally inquired. “It seems rather small. And there don’t appear to be any openings anywhere, how do you even move?”
The robot was oblivious to the difficulties in explaining the concept of being a robot to the people of Irvana. After all, Riva had taken it rather well, and Reavius seemed intrigued more than anything. He had no awareness of the fact that most others would not be as understanding or acknowledging of who, or what, he was. After a single second of processing, the metal man arrived at the answer, “My body was designed this way, and so my armor fits as it was designed. I am able to move my armor due to the various axles and rotary points that are contained within it. That is as simple as I can understand it.”
Wyn’s mom, as well as himself, stared at the android in confusion. If he was just a skinny guy, and a slightly crazy one at that, then they supposed that was good enough of an answer for them. He had proven to be a sincere and helpful stranger, and they appreciated him regardless.
Eventually, the robot handed off the family’s spoils to Layn, leaving them to do with the bulbs as they desired. He waved a stiff, robotic “goodbye” and ventured off, leaving the two to reflect on the strange events of the afternoon. The metal man, on the other hand, had enjoyed his meeting with the family, and even felt that he had learned some new things. Satisfied, Azim headed off into the thick of town to look for his companions.