"So, what's at the top of the tower?" I ask.

"I do not know." The sphere answers

"Why do you want to reach the top then?"

"Because I do not know."

"Hey, how do you see things? I don't see any eyes on you."

"I use ultrasonic sensors."

"Hey what was-"

"I would appreciate it if you kept silent."

I nod and do as it says. I suppose I must be rather annoying, I get that a lot.

We keep moving towards our destination, because we do not know. That's one thing we have in common. We run into a few scavengers on the way, but they looked nothing like the spider leg robot I fought before. Some were slithering on the ground and some had more humanoid forms, but none were quite as dangerous as what I fought before. They all fled the moment I showed any kind of resistance, which made travelling from here to there a lot more peaceful than I thought it would be.

"You know, I expected this to be a constant fight for survival, but this isn't as...apocalyptic as I thought?" I ask

"Existing can be considered a constant fight for survival. A war machine such as yourself might struggle to understand this, but battle is not the only way existence can be a challenge." It states with what I assume is disdain. It's hard to tell, its tone is almost always the same.

We continue in silence, scavengers are more and more rare as we get closer to the tower, the few that we do see are unable to move and can only try to reach for us with whatever appendage of theirs are still functional. It looks more pitiful than scary.

When we are both at the entrance of the tower, I realize how massive this thing truly is, the best thing I can compare it to is a carefully sculpted mountain made out of steel. What's particularly weird is that the tower walls are perfectly clean, too, despite everything being ruined around it. As if it exists outside time, as if it is simply beyond it.

When I enter the tower, I see a ramp going up in the middle of a large room, although the room is not half as big as what the actual tower looked like from the outside. The ramp is not steep, and it accommodates the treadmills of my friend rather easily. This tower was clearly made so it could be climbed by anyone.

The room is empty, so we simply climb up. After all, what else is there to do in an empty room but ascend? What else is there to do in an empty world but keep moving.

We travel in silence. I can't tell if it took multiple hours or days to reach the next room, I don't think it matters.

When I enter the second room. A sea of bright color assaults my senses, at first it doesn't look like anything but abstract shapes and a mishmash of hues that do not belong together. But eventually my eyes adjust to this new environment, one that isn't permeated by the boring metal I saw everywhere else in this universe.

What I saw were stories, machines dancing, fighting and perhaps even loving each other. The floor, the walls, the roof. The entire room is nothing but a grand, continuous painting of incredible proportions. And on a far wall of the room, a humanoid machine with 10 arms strapped to its back is painting, somehow adding more to this place that I thought was already complete.

"You stopped," the sphere states.

"Ho right, you can't see, can you? That's a shame, you're missing out... I think." I answer while approaching the painter. "Hey! Did you paint all that?"

"Most of it." It answers dryly.

"What does the painting mean?" I ask cheerfully, happy to be able to ask questions again without being told off for once.

"The art is simply an accidental byproduct of me painting." the painter states, "it does not mean more or less than what you see."

"Why do you paint, then?"

"Because painting is my purpose."

"Painting is pointless here." The sphere interjects, "No one will be able to see it once it's all over."

"Maybe it paints because it wants to be remembered through its art?" I answer.

"Nonsense." The painter huffs. "I would no longer be able to process the fact others remember me when I am shut down. I am, however, capable of processing the fact that I am painting." One of its hands points towards the sphere. "You say that painting here is pointless. But purpose and having a point are two different things. There can be no meaningful results in the end, only purpose."

"I disagree. All of our actions are in search of a result, otherwise it is just a waste of time" The sphere states, "What do you think, war machine?" it suddenly asks me.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Uhm... I'm not very good at this whole philosophy thing~" I say as I scratch my head, "I simply move forward because it's all I can do. So there's no sense asking questions like 'Why'."

"And yet you asked me what this painting meant." The painter ponders. "Effectively asking 'Why' this painting is. Tell me, if you had the choice between staying still forever or moving without ever getting the chance to stop, which would you choose

"Moving is what I would choose," I answer almost instinctively.

"Then your purpose is to keep moving. And where it leads you is but an accidental byproduct of your purpose." The painter says.

"Yeah, that sounds about right..." I mutter with a forced smile that the painter and the sphere cannot see. Not because I am hiding it, but because they are simply incapable or unwilling to do so. I am no different.

The sphere and I leave for the next ramp, continuing our ascent in silence. And the painter continues to paint, as it always has.