History: After reconciling the unfortunate notion that perhaps my ambitious projects would never even begin to encroach upon attaining completion, I had to deliberately restrain myself with respect to the length and the breadth of any future, successive work. Despite my prior exasperation with the extensive, insurmountable actualities of video game development, I selected the program, RPG Maker, as an accessible platform to construct the simplified designs and minimally demanding mechanics that I planned to incorporate into this short, predominantly narrative-driven experience. Conceptualized as an interactive story instead of a typical game, I intended to solely utilize the features and attributes concomitant with the immersive medium of video games to bolster the conveyance of the paramount pathos and themes intrinsic to the overarching narrative. Essentially, I thought it somewhat apt to explore the effects of external influences on one’s choices metaphorically through the relationship between the players’ ability to guide their character and the moments when that control is rescinded.
The odd style and presentation of the following script is reflective of the format offered by RPG Maker and my attempts to carefully plan and structure how the dialogue would be showcased in the game itself. When writing a novel or directing any spoken medium of storytelling, the cadence, inflection, volume, tempo, and underlying emotion are demonstrated through the vividly descriptive language or the actors’ performance and line delivery, respectively. The appearance of the dialogue onscreen is analogous to these techniques, with the spaces or breaks between lines indicating timed pauses in the text, while the increased distance between words represents labored or slowed speech.
Additionally, I suppose I was still subconsciously aware of the untenability of this project in its interactive story form, and, resultantly, the intervals of instructive text between the dialogue exchanges are far too extensive and descriptive for a simple game script. The language is therefore a bit transitory, neither succinct enough for a script nor sufficiently expressive and meticulous in its composition to constitute a satisfactory short story of its own accord.
Though the eventual resumption and formalized creation of this interactive story may yet reside within the realm of possibility, I currently have suspended the piece when the artwork, animations, and efforts with RPG Maker again proved insuperably burdensome.
Background: As a monumentally fascinating and brilliant individual, Nikola Tesla and his numerous achievements were a considerable source of inspiration that influenced much of the fictionalized science and technology presented throughout the narrative. Additionally, at the time of drafting this work, I had read through Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s proudest novel, for which he was knighted, that contextualized and defended many of the behaviors enacted by the British Empire against its colonized, South African subjects before and during The Second Anglo-Boer War of 1899-1902. His account was rather harrowing to behold in its entirety, especially when contrasted with the excoriating perspectives harbored by those who had also witnessed the decisions and tactics the British armies employed.
*The sections which emulate the format and text of a newspaper are optional, and can be entirely ignored or partially read at the discretion of the player who encounters them. The information provided is supplemental and intended to augment the background lore and atmosphere surrounding the recent predicaments a particular city, along with its constituent citizens, is forced to endure. The farcical tone of the articles is referential to the Ladysmith Lyre, which was a real satirical paper written to provide a semblance of sardonic levity to the grievous lives of its besieged townspeople. Overall, it was quite the experience for me to compose news columns that were redolent of the Lyre’s comedic, sarcastic language.
***
Scene 1
A telegraph operator/engineer sits hunched before a complicated system of machines with headphones secured over her ears. The tent which envelopes the scene is illuminated in the pale, crimson tones of a low-burning gas lantern, which casts somnolent shadows obfuscating the remainder of the area. A slow-moving outline traipses behind the engineer and situates itself against the left edge of the tent. A single, blue glow flashes effulgently through the darkness, immediately arresting the engineer’s attention. She grabs the lantern and turns towards the disturbance, revealing the source of the blue light to be a sole bulb tightly secured into the eye-socket of a worn automaton. She kneels before it with pink slips of paper in hand and begins to scrawl dexterously when rhythmic, syncopated beeps are elicited from her unmoving companion. She leans into a conical-shaped mouthpiece riveted against the metal frame of the automaton and articulates her reply.
E: “Continue.”
The translated contents of the transmitted message are depicted onscreen.
-Lead Telegraph Engineer (L.T.E) Berenice Turner 11/03/1902
We are requesting your services to escort this automaton to coordinates 25˚ 33’ 0” S 28˚ 11’ 0” E for repairs. Will signal with further instruction. Respond with haste.
-Telegraphist Cecil Tregennis for Macluto Telautomatics, Main Station
The engineer raises from her position and settles at the front of the imposing machinery. She taps out her reply on a telegraph key and compiles a consortium of supplies into multiple, amorphous bundles that are tied together into a wearable knapsack. Glancing wearily at the automaton, she lays upon a prosaic cot and stifles the lantern’s quivering flames.
The radiant light emanating from the automaton’s lone bulb gradually dies.
Fade out.
Scene 2
Fade in.
The canvas stretched across the background of the frame scatters a diffusion of soft, morning light, casting a pale haze across the few visible features and extruding subtle shadows along the trodden, dirt floor. The engineer wakes and straps the laden knapsack onto her back.
She exits the tent.
Its flap is left open, allowing luminescent sunlight to pervade its interior in a concentrated beam which drapes gently along the ground and across the tarnished metal plates of the automaton.
The player, now in control of the automaton, will emulate the engineer’s egress.
The automaton will emerge amidst the clamor of regimented, daily activities of a small bivouac populated with ragged, yet jovial, soldiers, trailing in the wake of the engineer.
A garish flag of navy and silver is affixed, hanging limply in the stagnant air, between two tents.
E: “Follow closely.”
Control is wrested from the player as the automaton imperturbably yields to the orated command.
The laminar stream of a quiet breeze propagates few undulations across the rippling fabric of the gaudy flag.
Fade out.
Scene 3
Fade in.
A cutscene plays, depicting the engineer leading the encumbered, slow-moving machine through unremitting bellows of copper-hued dust. In the midst of their silent perambulation across the arid plains, the automaton’s single eye bulb flashes blue, following which the engineer ceases in her strident pace and kneels before it. She transcribes the message upon another piece of pink paper.
The hastily written interpretation appears onscreen.
Refrain from opening the internal cavity and disturbing its delicate mechanisms. Adjustments to be made only if communication functions have ceased.
She dictates her reply to the automaton.
E: “Confirmed.”
With uncompromising resolution, the engineer persists in her venture. The player gains control over the automaton and will trail behind her for a few paces. She interrupts the transient enjoyment of agency with a command.
E: “Come along.”
Puissant tones of gray and blue dilute the dull gleam of golden rays diffusing from the sun as it sinks with lassitude beneath the horizon.
Fade out.
Scene 4
Fade in.
The two journeying companions sit reposed around resplendent, flickering flames at the center of a meager camp. Emulative of the preceding scene, the automaton’s eye signals an incoming message, which is subsequently delivered without the prior receipt of the engineer’s confirmation.
E: “Wait, hold on… Mr. Tregennis, please re-transmit your previous message.”
She is met with silence.
E: “Damn it.”
She mulls silently for a moment, eyes closed, reconstructing the patterns of dots, dashes, and pauses from memory.
E: “‘Diverting our course five kilometers west will yield an intersection with a mining city. We can find temporary respite there.’”
Initially incredulous to the veracity of her translation, the engineer opens her eyes with immediacy and shakes her head.
E: “No, that’s… far too informal.”
E: “Though accurate, I’m fairly certain…”
She appears quizzical, staring with narrowed eyes and lineaments contorted with consternation at the motionless automaton. She raises her eyebrows and shakes her head dismissively.
Wavering ribbons of smoke curl and intermingle as they dissipate from the amber fires crackling euphoniously between the silent pair. The camera traces the languid motions of the rising columns until the ashen plumes are lost amongst the enveloping turbidity of low-lying clouds.
Fade out.
Scene 5
Fade in.
The pair are standing at a precipice overlooking an expanse of dried, knotted fields bounded by jagged, craggy formations disappearing into a thin film of fog in the distance. The visage of a solemn city, crumbling and blackened in the aftermath of heavy artillery fire, is discernable through the haze surrounded by dispersed groupings of tents and entrenchments. The shrill exultation of an operating steam train escaping from the city’s periphery fixates the engineer’s attention upon the curved trail of the rail line as it weaves between the isolated cliffs that punctuate the grasses of the withering veld.
The automaton’s single bulb flashes, succeeded with immediacy by a rapid delivery of Morse Code.
A: “Accessibility of nearby quarries has not been compromised in spite of recent tribulations in their propinquity.”
The engineer recoils from the unanticipated interjection.
E: “That’s… wonderful, mind explaining how you knew what I was looking at, Mr. Tregennis?”
Silence is the only response she receives.
E: “…I didn’t require an answer anyway, thank you.”
E: “Additionally, can you please give prior warning before initiating contact next time? My heart is palpitating.”
A: “Understood.”
Reconstituting a facsimile of her confident composure, she folds her arms tightly against her lithe frame.
E: “I hadn’t realized it was such a priority for us to protect these mines specifically.”
A: “Ionium’s military utility has been recognized since-”
E: “Ionium?”
E: “I-I see.”
…
The engineer looks askew.
The obfuscating murkiness of fog condenses in the slight concavity of the sparse plains where the decrepit remains of the restless city are nestled.
Fade out.
Scene 6
Fade in.
Along the plaintive, desolate streets of the city, the two trudge in respectful silence, carefully stepping around discarded remnants of buildings, cabs, and streetlamps coated in an undisturbed layer of thick, black ash.
The automaton activates, emanating a flash of its single bulb before awaiting explicit confirmation of the engineer’s recognition.
The engineer ceases walking in response and control is removed from the player as the automaton reciprocates her action.
Following this attainment of her focus, the automaton begins to transmit its message.
A: “I advise that we depart at your earliest convenience tomorrow morning. Delays will needlessly protract our journey.”
E: “ ‘Course. We could plan to…”
A realization slowly emerges, percolating through the capacious recesses of her mind and commandeering the entirety of her attention.
E: “…We could… our journey…that odd, informal address again…”
Spurred by the sudden insatiable desire for confirmatory evidence, the engineer anxiously sprints in the opposite direction of their current trajectory.
E: “Stay within the city. I’ll be in the Telegraph Office.”
She hurries out of frame. Exploration is subsequently encouraged, as the opportunity exists for the player to fully control the automaton and traverse the length of the city.
During its labored perambulation of the city streets, the automaton witnesses a forming line of sullen, downtrodden laborers clothed in tattered layers of ill-fitting garb. The sinuous trail culminates before a wagon laden with various provisions, distributed by soldiers dressed in the same navy and silver uniform as the engineer. The mud-clotted threads of the soldiers’ worn raiment reciprocate the disheveled state of the civilians, and their gaunt features protruding through sallow skin elicit haggard countenances. Beyond the emaciated figures encumbered with the frailty of residual sickness, piles of refuse and effluent are consumed voraciously by flies. A garish flag, ostentatious in the incongruity of its vivid, unblemished hues of navy and silver, is hung across a crumbling brick façade.
During the automaton’s excavation of aggregated waste, old, discarded newspapers are found and read. The image of the headline along with its contents will be viewable onscreen:
THE KIMASMITH TIMES 18/06/1899
Much adoration to our readers who have made The Kimasmith Times the most widely printed satirical siege paper, clearing outselling that of our competitors. [Of which, we are obliged to state, there were none.]
DR. SCHMOOFHOWZIER FINALLY DISCOVERS KIMASMITH 18/06/1999
The illustrious Dr. Schmoofhowzier has recently published his scintillating account of his excavation of the lost city, Kimasmith, which was postulated to have been ignored for a hundred years while its citizens waited silently for reinforcements to liberate them. Learned scholars previously assumed a place of such legendary patience must only reside amongst the pages of lore; however, arguing that it did, in fact, exist, Schmoofhowzier set out to remind his home country of the forgotten people their ancestors long since abandoned.
He proceeded to get lost in the featureless plains.
After over a year of this circuitous wandering, he encountered by pure chance evidence suggesting the city contained valuable treasure in its midst. Subsequent to receiving this information, our addlepated adventurer happened to find his way straight there without further diversion. [Note: this account was remarked upon with much incredulity by the poor fools funding his research.] Dr. Schmoofhowzier soon ascertained that the city was razed not from unceasing shell-fire, debilitating starvation and thirst, festering filth, dysentery and its companion diseases, but rather, from boredom. [Yes, boredom.] The malignance of which is well known in academia to have felled innumerable civilizations of antiquity.
Questions to his mental stability promptly ignored, Schmoofhowzier enumerated the activities this doomed society regularly engaged in to stave away the pernicious influence of monotony. He professed they, in their pitiable desperation, often placed bets on the number of shells likely to make contact the upcoming day. Alas, even the irreverent morbidity of said action proved inefficacious, and the city lost its venerable battle against boredom. According to Schmoofhowzier, some entombed remains can be found intact, clearly depicting the citizens, somnolent heads resting in hands, still awaiting liberation from their captors.
It can be said that these ancient peoples were pertinacious, at least, if not horribly dense and idealistic.
Actual News
Efforts have been undergone to locate and eviscerate supply stocks employed by commandoes to maintain their evasive, sanguinary tactics.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE KIMASMITH TIMES 23/10/1901
Though the siege has ended, our dedication to journalistic integrity certainly has not! [Incidentally, we regret to admit that our status as the best-selling paper has since been revoked.]
DR. SCHMOOFHOWZIER’S RESEARCH ON EMBARRASSMENT NOW AVAILABLE 23/10/2001
The successive investigative chronicle of the venerated Dr. Schmoofhowzier has recently achieved acclaim following its broad, public proliferation. This publication marks the second edition in his anthology into the factors contributing to fall of history’s most obstinate civilizations. Next in his detailed enumeration of said pernicious attributes is the much-maligned trait of embarrassment, which is best exemplified in his discussion into its prevalence within the depraved ancient society of the Azugrades. One hundred years ago, in acknowledgement of the insuperable difficulties accrued from electing to engage a superior force in combat, scores of Azugrade soldiers and civilians alike starting surrendering to their adversary. [Apparently, the communicable infectiousness of embarrassment had yet to permeate these contingents of their population.] Schmoofhowzier’s exhaustive efforts concluded that the accommodations welcoming the penitent were more than hospitable, and these defeated individuals were oft found carousing to the luxuries of being well-fed and safe from the depravities of war. Jealousy, rather understandably, became a rampant affliction in the homes of the Kimasmith citizens as they surveyed the scrumptiously prepared horse carcasses that constituted their evening’s delicacy.
In their desperation, they entertained the possibility of feigning defection to the Azugrades. Schmoofhowzier emphatically lauds the bravery and dedication of these people considering the danger and strenuousness of what they endured in order to accomplish this deception-- weeks of training as amateur dramatists. Unfortunately, they were insufficiently adept at acting to fool their commanders, who, to everyone’s surprise, also happened to be esteemed Shakespearean interpreters and renown drama critics famous for the acrimony of their reviews. [We have yet to find confirmatory evidence corroborating the existence of such multi-talented individuals.] Dejected, and discouraged from ever pursuing careers on the stage once the war finally ceased, the citizens reluctantly turned their attentions to uncovering methods of imbuing horse meat with a flavor slightly more palatable than that of dead, acrid animal.
Schmoofhowzier pontificates on the trend of enemy civilians begging to be abandoned by their retreating columns and forming raucous lines greeting the advancing forces of our ancestors with palpable elation. It is a pitiable circumstance indeed when your own citizens are better off in the hands of the enemy than in your own. The subsequent contraction of embarrassment became far too virulent and pervasive for the Azugrades, and they refused to capitulate and assent to the munificent terms of the proposed peace negotiations. Cheeks florid in the shame of continuous defeat and their fingers plugged deeply into their ears, they armed the cadaverous bodies of their soldiers with few, broken armaments and went confidently back into the fray.
Suffice it to say, Schmoofhowzier was unable to clarify whether the subsequent protraction of war was attributable to the tenacity of the enemy in their avoidance of contagious embarrassment or to the horrific failures of our ancestors.
As to the ineluctable culmination of this obdurate persistence, Dr. Schmoofhowzier remarks that the bones of Azugrade soldiers were found interred beneath the beautiful fields of their farmlands, which are still excoriated by scores of reticulated trenches and punctuated by the capacious depressions formed in the wake of the shell-fire that graced these lands one hundred years ago.
Schmoofhowzier speculates that the deceased commandoes are currently lying in a state of peaceful repose in the arid ground, still thinking to themselves, “Well, at least we never gave in!”.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Upon the culmination of the automaton’s exploratory endeavors, it enters beneath the frame denoting the entrance to the telegraph office.
Fade out.
Scene 7
Fade in.
The automaton appears in a room interspersed with sporadic desks and mechanical equipment. The weak, crepuscular sunlight tinged with dull, crimson hues filters through a paned window stained with splotches of leaden gunpowder. The engineer is standing over a desk, adroitly handling a small, intricate device.
E: “This is incredibly ludicrous…”
In recognition of the automaton’s presence, she finalizes her deft manipulation of the coiled wires and iron armatures comprising the compact mechanism and approaches her companion.
E: “We’re going to partake in a little… empirical research.”
The engineer brandishes the tangible culmination of her preceding labors: an electromagnet powered by a single battery.
E: “If I’m not allowed to adjust this automaton’s inductance internally, perhaps temporary interference is permissible instead?”
A: “An imaginative circumvention.”
She kneels and presses the electromagnet against the automaton’s chest cavity.
E: “Um…well, then. Either you will no longer be able to reply, which indicates I had been conversing directly with another telegraphist, or...”
…
A: “Affirmative to the latter, implied supposition.”
A: “Though a sample size of one is usually insufficient for an effective trial.”
She stalls, transfixed with incredulity and shock. Her hand instinctually grasps at the central region of her chest.
E: “Dare I question how?”
A: “The current consilience of evidence attributes this feature to the Ionium compound in the circuitry, though the study of the precise mechanism is still in its infancy.”
…
E: “So, if I am understanding correctly, your… awareness… is an unintentional biproduct, and they have no idea why it happened.”
A: “Yes.”
E: “Lovely.”
She is silent for a moment, evidently lost amongst irrepressible cogitations. Sudden realization and its resultant trepidation supplant this period of reflection.
E: “Can you tell me how much of the preceding exchanges was ours? Alone?”
A: “All direct injunctions originated with your superiors, and your responses were promptly sent. Personal thoughts were deemed impertinent and therefore not relayed.”
E: “Your consideration is truly profound.”
The engineer shuts off the battery connected to the electromagnet and stores the system in her knapsack. She rises and heads towards the exit.
E: “You… should probably follow.”
Fade out.
Scene 8
Fade in. The faded light from the window of the telegraph office is incorporated into the slinking sun featured prominently throughout this scene.
A path of clotted mud and aggregated stones of disparate sizes bifurcates patches of tangled, trampled grass. The sun’s rays emanate from lower and lower angles as the engineer and automaton wordlessly compact the amenable ground beneath them. Protracted shadows begin to creep from the gnarled brush and few, bent trees lining the thoroughfare. The visage of the city appears escaping into distance, lost amongst the impenetrable haze of the gathering fog.
Fade out.
Scene 9
Fade in.
A steep cliff-face arises from the expanse of empty fields as muted tones of purple and red permeate the regions of the crepuscular sky where the tips of the wild grasses meet the horizon. A silhouetted tower with a hemispherical dome, imposing and ostentatious, overlays the blended hues of sunset while the two companions ascend the eroded mountain. They pause briefly once at its summit and stare out at the outline of the inscrutable tower, the multitudinous garrisons dotting the area surrounding it, and the precipitous drop before them.
E: “I… Er…”
E: “I had been meaning to ask about the extent of your submissiveness to dictated commands. Hopefully, you can indulge what is, I assure you, purely scientific intrigue.”
A: “I cannot have reservations. Proceed.”
E: “Hypothetically, If I instructed you to roll right over the edge, how would you respond?”
The automaton turns to face the engineer.
A: “I would question your motives, first. Not out of self-preservation; it is simply an egregious waste of expensive machinery.”
It once again fixates the gaze of its single bulb upon the tower.
A: “To answer, I couldn’t comply with such a request. Though the enumerated commands newer-iteration automata can understand are more complex, we are still limited in what we can do.”
E: “Considering this…well, forgive me, but is impregnable wireless telegraphy, in the form of an automaton specifically, really a justifiable investment?”
She looks over at the automaton.
E: “…The apparent achievement of creating a facsimile of sapience notwithstanding.”
A: “You must trust the assiduousness of your government on that matter.”
The automaton evaluates its options for an addendum to substantiate its prior assertion. In the interim, the engineer raises an eyebrow, shakes her head, and retreats from the cliff’s edge. It faces her, and projects Morse Code at her back.
A: “However, I can reveal that we are now able to perform menial labors without articulated instruction.”
E: “Fantastic. Now, let’s go.”
The automaton follows at her behest.
Fade out.
Scene 10
Fade in.
Ruby fires crackle and fade amongst the entangled, dried twigs and branches as the pervading darkness of night advances on the camp of the companion travelers. A map is unfurled between them. The silhouette of the tower and its encircling battlements still loom, blending into the encroaching blackness of the twilight sky.
The engineer indicates towards these intimidating fixtures.
E: “I’ve never seen such a profound assemblage of defensive installations in one location.”
E: “Of course, I understand that ceding reliance on kilometers of severable communication cables is beneficial, but…”
A: “Its importance in that regard should not be diminished.”
E: “Undoubtedly. Still… to necessitate this amount of protection?”
She holds her arms across her chest and tilts her head in an outward demonstration of internal rumination.
E: “Mind expatiating on its alternative uses, if it has any? Specifically pertaining to automata.”
E: “I’m aware this is the station from which my mission regarding you was originally sent.”
A: “I suppose it is permissible to acquiesce. Essentially, automata are not discriminating about the source of vocalized injunctions, apart from comprehending only a single language; yours.”
A: “Therefore, for additional security, there is a hierarchy of command that prioritizes the incoming orders from this transmitter, and by extension, the military.”
A: “Remote access and direct control over our activities is also achievable from that tower.”
E: “Again, the rationale for these expensive measures alludes me, given your notable limitations in utility. It seems… redundant and needless.”
A: “It is not within my capabilities to dispel this obfuscating confusion in you.”
She shrugs and raises with somnolent hesitance, trudging towards the opening flap of her tent.
E: “I guess it would be quixotic to assume you could do otherwise.”
E: “I do appreciate the extent of your honesty, though.”
E: “Goodnight.”
The engineer ducks beneath the sagging entry to her tent and removes herself from view. Remaining stationary in the solitude left in her absence, the automaton rests its gaze, resolute and uncompromising, upon the blurred outline of the tower as the structure is slowly overtaken by the seeping shadows of the starless night sky. Flecked with patches of flaking rust, the tarnished plates comprising the automaton’s stature are tinged a muted red in the dim reflection of the vivacious flames burning at the automaton’s side.
An undefinable length of time passes.
Residual embers flicker meekly before dying out in an unceremonious instant, plunging the scene into abject darkness.
Scene 11
Fade in.
An inexorable gathering of dense clouds, blackened and swollen in restraint of a tempestuous torrent threatening sudden, vehement expulsion, overhangs the well-kneaded mud thoroughfare currently conducting the engineer and the automaton towards their destination.
The imperturbable advance of the pair alongside an unremittent tangle of coarse brush and knotted foliage is stymied with immediacy upon the sight of dried blood interspersed with discordant imprints left by a horse’s hooves.
Impacting the malleable ground with the toes of her leather boots and weighted knees, the engineer closely inspects the markings outlined in the damp clay.
E: “A lone messenger, or scout, perhaps? Shot from atop their horse, judging by the tracks.”
The automaton overtakes her on the path and sifts through the contents of a discarded, emptied knapsack, its cold appendage brushing against the tattered, splitting threads dyed a vibrant russet from the seeping stains of clotted blood.
A: “All useful supplies have been ransacked. This letter is the only source of valuable information remaining.”
The automaton passes a creased letter to the engineer for translation.
E: “’They aren’t far. We can smell the smoke left in their wake. As soon as you get this letter, pack the wagon and head north. I won’t be far behind, I promise. Remind Thomal I love him every second of every day and to trust that things will get better in time. Love to you both. See you soon.’”
A: “The path does not bifurcate from here for miles. It is possible we may intercept the message’s intended recipient.”
E: “Are we to bring warning in this person’s stead?”
A: “Would they not be receptive? If we are timely in reaching them, that is.”
E: “That would be dependent on…well,”
…
E: “who they were running from.”
They proceed forward in silence.
The smattering of entangled foliage gradually capitulates to an inexorable projection of desolate farmland.
Twisted coils of a barbed wire fence cordon the untamed clamber of fraying stalks of wheat and, with every gust of a placid wind, impale the soft crops against the serrated spikes of its rigid, cold steel.
The engineer views the inhospitable fence trespassing across the displaced stones of the lone path with austere indifference before yielding at its seemingly interminable breadth. She drops to a sole knee, rifling through the multitudes of scattered supplies which lie in disarray at the bottom of her knapsack, and procures a wire-cutter and additional tools. She passes the instruments to the automaton, who receptively clasps them between the single clamp constituting its grip and begins to separate the solenoidal fence. Upon its severance, the engineer maneuvers through the narrow gap and reassumes her strident pace without looking back. The automaton remains, inserting its forearms amongst the coils as it labors to reconnect the fence in their wake.
The protruding metal brambles tear with voracious, yet impotent, fervidity as they entwine with the weathered, pealing surface of the automaton’s oxidizing extremities. The automaton persists, unconcerned, in its convictions, reverting its course and following the engineer only after the reattachment of the imposing barbed wire is completed.
Fade out.
Scene 12
Fade in. The movement speed of the automaton is reduced slightly from its previous state.
With silent lassitude, a gentle breeze rustles the overgrown blades of pale, yellowing wheat. The two travel parallel to the entangled crops and, as they persist in arduously trampling over loose, coarse bits of gravel, the appearance of the wheat gradually alters. Dried stalks bend and yield beneath the encumbering weight of their dead neighbors. Leaden ash collects in granulated piles between the stones of the path and blackened scars begin to permeate through the still, melancholic fields. Eventually, charred shreds of the remaining crops lie undisturbed in a cacophonous disarray upon the seared earth. Melted on one of its sides, a child’s wagon coated in faded, chipped red paint rests precariously with a perceptible cant against its warped, rusted wheels.
The engineer and the automaton emerge amidst a clearing surrounding a one-story farmhouse. The abandoned home’s mortar crumbles, weakened by the scorching flames which had voraciously consumed its antique frame, and its remaining roof bows in capitulation to its own weight.
The pair cautiously peers through the open doorframe.
E: “We might as well. After you.”
Fade out.
Scene 13
Fade in.
Reciprocating the derelict appearance of its exterior, a prosaic, meager room greets the engineer and automaton as they gain entry to the creaking farmhouse. The skeletal remnants of few furniture items are discernable amongst the ashes and collapsed wooden beams.
E: “See if there’s anything of value left behind.”
The player regains control over the automaton and is afforded the opportunity to scour the premises for scattered reminders of the little home’s previous residents. This transient enjoyment of autonomy is rescinded when specific items are encountered, namely, photographs depicting a mother, father, and their son, children’s toys, and a charred marionette missing one of its eyes.
The engineer dexterously fiddles with her electromagnet apparatus while the automaton is indisposed.
E: “Check under the bed.”
The automaton assents, finding a stack of retained letters preserved in a decorative, metal box.
A: “Can you translate this language?”
The automaton roughly creases the pages of a few, opened letters as it carries them over to the busied engineer.
She looks up quizzically, and assents with discernable affability.
E: “‘Course.”
The engineer parses through the papers.
E: “I’ll just summarize their contents for you.”
…
E: “The wife fought as a commando, apparently.”
She shuffles through the next few messages.
E: “She frequently inquires into the well-being and safety of her family.”
…
E: “Hmm…?”
E: “‘One of our members learned that his family was captured during their escape after their farm was torched. Last he heard, they were crammed into wagons heading for… heading… for…’”
She stifles her voice before it cracks as her head bows in repressed shame. Taking a pause to compose herself, she persists slowly.
E: “‘We could do nothing to comfort him.’”
…
E: “’Yet, he still refused to surrender and urged us to do the same.’”
E: “This was the last letter she sent. Or at least the last one they received.”
Protracted silence permeates as the engineer crumples the letters and lets them fall listlessly to the splintering, singed wooden planks that line the floor.
The unsettling stillness momentarily returns. She distractedly resumes making alterations to her mechanisms.
E: “Did you find anything else?”
A: “All that remains are meretricious personal items. I am disregarding them due to their worthlessness.”
E: “Leave them where they lie. The family might return to collect them once the war is over.”
She refuses to look directly at the automaton.
A: “Unlikely. If they shared the fate of their neighbors then, probabilistically speaking, they are already dead.”
She immediately ceases her activities and raises her eyes with desperate ferocity.
E: “W-What?”
A: “You knew what our holding camps were like, did you not?”
Silence festers unabated for a brief moment.
E: “I-I thought…”
A: “Survival rates have been incredibly low, especially amongst children, therefore, logically,”
E: “STOP! Damn it!”
Emerging from despondent introspection, the engineer solemnly stares down at the furtive motions of her sinewy fingers.
E: “The… consolidation… of large quantities of people for their safety can unfortunately incur the proliferation of illness.”
…
E: “It is a natural consequence of living in a war-ravaged nation.”
E: “Their treatment could have been magnanimous, considering the circumstances…”
E: “Nothing…intentionally… unsavory or unsanitary…”
A: “I cannot contest the slight possibility. Lacking the opportunity to evaluate the camps directly, we must rely on testimonials and correspondences alone.”
E: “C-Correspondences?”
She rests her head in her hands as indominable realization overtakes her with sudden vehemence.
E: “In the messages I transmitted, there were references to… contending with those whom they deemed ‘undesirable’.”
…
E: “I can’t recall how many times I tapped out every letter of that word.”
E: “I assumed it only pertained to these armed insurgents. Not to their families. Not to this.”
She indicates to the devastation surrounding them.
E: “I swear, I didn’t know what would happen to them.”
A: “You did what you were commanded to do.”
The engineer turns her head and stares, numb and listless, through a diminutive window devoid of its glass.
A: “We should not delay our journey any further.”
He awaits her response. She refuses to offer one.
A: “Though perhaps leaving tomorrow would also be permissible.”
She meets the single-bulb gaze of machine, who had fixated its attention uninterruptedly on her visage.
E: “No, I’ll be fine. You were right, anyway. There isn’t anything for us here.”
She rises and heads towards the exit.
Fade out.
Scene 14
Fade in.
The companions pour over a map of their encompassing vicinity, planning their next course. Visible rail lines thread a sinuous trail through the pass carved from the immemorial mountains in the distance.
A: “Traveling parallel to this rail line from the Ionium quarry would be the shortest route for the time being.”
The engineer nods and folds the map along its pronounced creases. She proceeds to slide it into a narrow recess formed between the consortium of items in her knapsack. Distracted by the desultory cogitations festering uninterruptedly in her mind, she meanders along the ridge without elevating her gaze beyond the sodden ground trampled beneath the balding soles of her mud-caked boots.
Moments of unsettling quiet pass before she accumulates sufficient assuredness to articulate her tumultuous thoughts.
E: “Everything I have done whilst here was in service to our citizens.”
E: “Or, at least, that’s what I fervently believed.”
…
E: “However, I think I always knew their tribulations were not the paramount reason for our presence here.”
A: “It was one of many.”
E: “I remember back at home when the papers used to dedicate a small column to the discussion of ongoing conciliatory arbitration.”
E: “From their assurances, it always seemed we were far from that odious precipice which overlooks the dawn of armed conflict.
E: “Then, unexpectedly, there it was. The declaration of war boldly gracing the front page.”
A: “It is interesting you considered war to be unanticipated. In the face of uncompromising truculence and indominable ideological incongruities, diplomatic endeavors have been occasionally inefficacious.”
E: “I’m intimately familiar with that concept.”
E: “I simply mean that our control over this colony was always tenuous and indifferent. The unceremonious reversal of The Crown’s position, therefore, must have been predicated on an additional impetus.”
The shrill whistle of a passing train interjects amidst their conversation, transfixing the pair in place.
E: “It always comes back to that, doesn’t it?”
E: “I know it was encountered in the mines here not long before us reinforcements were deployed.”
A: “That is quite the simplification of the situation. You must understand why your government decided-”
E: “I wish I didn’t.”
Pivoting briskly in avoidance of a potential resumption in the automaton’s explication, the engineer proceeds with a hurried, breathless gait away from the assumed scrutiny of its unblinking glare.
Fade out.
The piercing note of the train’s whistle is struck once more.
It gradually declines in pitch until no longer audible.
Scene 15
Fade in.
Diffusing from the horizon line in the distance, deep crimson tones bleed across the sky and settle like a pall upon the expanse of dried plains lain at its base. Trails of trenches excoriate the fields and prodigious holes born from heavy artillery fire punctuate the landscape. Reverberant gunfire and cries from a nearby altercation echo clangorously between the rocky precipices which loom on either side of the path taken by the engineer and her companion automaton. The two come upon a clearing overlooking the battlefield below.
The engineer glances apprehensively at the view.
Fade out.
Scene 16
Fade in.
With deliberate, plodding footfalls in deference to the plaintive solemnity of her morose surroundings, the engineer cautiously trudges forward. The automaton follows in her wake, attempting, with the application of its full dexterity, to weave around abandoned trenches, exploded sandbags, and deep depressions carved into the rust-colored dirt. Torn shreds of navy blue and silver uniforms rest scattered across the site while a downed flag, reciprocating the faded hues of these uniforms, drapes somnolently against the remains of passing destruction.
The two happen upon a defunct automaton lying discarded amongst the rubble. Its body is prodigious in bulk, while unrefined and inelegant in form, and the simplicity in its construction betrays an elementary nature to the automaton’s design.
E: “Wait.”
The automaton immediately ceases in its quiet peregrination as the engineer kneels before the rusted, metal frame sinking into the russet dust.
E: “Do you mind if I remove these plates? If I recall, my orders did not preclude opening older variants of automata.”
A: “You may persist.”
She removes the securing rivets with careful nimbleness and opens the front hatch, taking notes as she proceeds.
E: “The sounder has been removed… actually, most of its mechanisms are missing. The circuitry is intact, though evidently has long since fried, and the engine is dreadfully worn.”
A: “This degradation is to be anticipated.”
A: “It is the unfortunate result of a perfunctory development cycle, hastened so as to be compatible with mass production, in conjunction with a rudimentary understanding of Ionium’s properties.”
E: “Hmm…”
E: “What is the expected latency between deployment and decommission for automata?”
A: “Ten months is a conservative estimate.”
E: “At which point some parts are then salvaged and the remaining shell is abandoned?”
The automaton answers with confirmatory silence.
E: “After a mere ten months… Wouldn’t that constitute, as you put it, an egregious waste?”
A: “Yes. However, newer automata have improved efficiency in end-of-usable-life proceedings.”
E: “Hence the need to escort you for repairs.”
The engineer returns the plate to its original position, screwing it in place. She rises.
E: “It appears to be far too late for these poor sods, however. Well, at least I’ll regard your patriotic sacrifice, my metallic friend.”
With gentle affability, the engineer lays her hand upon the cold surface of the automaton’s flaking metal dome as she travels beyond its motionless husk.
A: “‘Patriotic…?’”
The player is allowed to once again control the automaton as it follows in her wake.
A low rustle of leaves, bending in surrender to the restless bellows of a tepid breeze, is the only sound interrupting the dull thud of muted steps impacting into the soft, amenable ground.
The austerity of their deferential movements is maintained as the morbidity of their location foists an unrelenting sense of gloom and terror upon the shaken composure of the engineer. To her sides lie cavernous ruts of reticulated trenches, long since vacated and hollowed of their collapsing debris, marred against their sloping walls with sporadic stains of leaden powder from the residue of unreciprocated gunfire. Soundless echoes rise in a chorus of final, impotent screams from the depths of the empty sepulchers, ricocheting against insouciant stones and lifeless sand bags before dissipating into the stagnant mist and falling silent.
The automaton finally punctuates the ineffable disquietude.
…
A: “Can someone be considered a martyr if their sacrifice was coerced?”
A brief moment passes as the engineer ruminates upon the posited query, her chin sunken deeply against the top of her chest.
E: “They can surely be venerated, regardless of whether it was their intention to become one.”
Stillness again befalls the pair.
A: “And do you believe it was their intention?”
E: “Yes.”
…
E: “As far as they were aware.”
Despite the objections of her dissonant mind, the engineer’s sight gravitates towards an aimless search of the shadows of the capacious trenches, seeking, with recognition of the futility of her actions, any indication of stirring vitality from their enshrouded, noiseless pits.
Concurrently, the automaton angles its weighted, metal approximation of a skull downward, seemingly engaged in the contemplation of its motorized body as it purposelessly opens and closes its limited grasp.
Fade out.
Scene 17
Fade in.
The engineer and the automaton encroach upon a jagged cliff face overhanging a dense brush of gruff foliage that gradually thins into a smattering of individual, low-lying shrubs interspersed with the murky haze of fog dissipating throughout the valley.
An explosion of effulgent, blue flames suddenly radiates from amongst the tangled vegetation.
Propagating tremors rattle the ground beneath the pair and, in an impetuous gesture incentivized by insuppressible trepidation, the engineer scampers away from the overlook. She huddles protectively against the unwavering, stoic trunk of a nearby tree and covers her ears with tremulous hands.
The player is left in control of the austere automaton standing alone, unperturbed, at the edge.
In the disquieting stillness evinced from the settling clamor, the automaton approaches the engineer, arduously dragging steady, deep impressions from its tracks as it advances. When it finally reaches her side, control over its functions is revoked.
In noticing its presence, she looks up, exasperated, and wraps her arms around its metal frame, closing her eyes tightly.
The two remain unmoving in this position.
Fade out.
Scene 18
Fade in.
The clangorous brutality of a nearby fray resonates unceasingly across the expansive plains of trampled grass that lie before the companions.
The movements of the two are labored and slow.
The engineer stops.
A: “We are in close proximity to the designated coordinates. Persistence is encouraged.”
E: “I-I need to view the detonation site, first.”
A: “There is no perceivable benefit to that venture.”
E: “I disagree.”
…
E: “Their employment is still a rarity… I-Ionium explosives, that is. Am I correct?”
A: “Yes. The current paucity of Ionium has restricted the availability and use of its derivative weaponry. The resultant deployments are always opportune with respect to anticipated devastation.”
E: “Explain why, then, did we witness…”
…
E: “I wasn’t aware of any movements of enemy battalions in that area.”
A: “I cannot answer with certitude unless I acquire further information.”
E: “Then mark it on the map.”
She hoists the laden straps of her knapsack off her shoulders and plants the hulking mass of the leather bundle with delicate precision upon the impressionable ground. A map is procured and the location is denoted by the automaton.
A: “I can harbor no objections, only the mere suggestion that you refrain.”
…
A: “There may be no solace in the truth, regardless of its form.”
The map is folded and returned to its resting place.
E: “I won’t prioritize my own placation any longer.”
The engineer’s pace hastens after her direction is reversed. Without hesitation, the automaton reciprocates her trajectory, though its heavy gait cannot match the rapidity of her movements.
Fade out.
Scene 19
Fade in.
Following the faded imprint of a worn, trodden path as it leads through the arid veld towards a permeation of shade cast from an expanse of ancient trees and dried brush, the engineer and the automaton finally arrive at the location indicated to be the site of the witnessed detonation. At the culmination of the gravel trail, where the aggregation of disparate, loose stones widens into a dirt clearing, a profound, oppressive sense of horror seeps from amongst the residual shadows and drapes upon the vicinity like the ghastly veil of a phantasmagoric specter.
Frayed, wooden spokes of severed wheels jut out at violent angles, and their companion wagons have blackened and fused with the canvas sheathes covering them. Twisted skeletons of sporadic trees have solidified in their rigid contortions, bending with reluctant creaks when errant gusts of wind, intermingled with clumps of ash and dust, blow briskly by. Shredded pieces of green fabric drift with somber lethargy in the breeze, landing atop patches of ground stained a deep crimson from the indistinguishable mixing of blood and russet-colored clay. Forcefully discarded items scatter about the clearing, traceable, through striated scars marring the dirt, back to a charred, capacious depression resting ominously at the center of the area.
The engineer, unshackling herself the arresting shock which has bound her, stares, aghast, at the surrounding devastation before she proceeds in scouring the rubble beside the pit. Left to its own devices, the automaton, at the behest of the player, excavates the remains around the periphery of the clearing. In doing so, it encounters scores of warped rifles and ammunition melted to the tin cans of prosaic food supplies, torn uniforms of a faded, green shade, and multitudes of other varied resources.
After some time has passed with the two immersed in the beleaguering rumination over the gravity of their respective endeavors, the engineer calls the automaton to her side.
E: “Come here”
She wields the distorted face plate of a new model automaton in her hands.
E: “How”
E: “The damage was on the interior of its metal plates.”
A: “There were design precautions-”
E: “From what little I was shown of your schematics, one of said enumerated precautions specified that the amounts of Ionium you contain were purported to be marginal and incontrovertibly innocuous, so, I reiterate; HOW”
A: “An errant explosion is impossible without significant internal damage.”
E: “Internal damage… Caused by what, do you suggest? I understood the casing of new automaton to be impervious to even heavy fire.”
A: “There are limits to the caliber and duration of what we can endure. Even still, it is highly improbable for a violent reaction to have been elicited.”
E: “Your damned limitations. Involuntary detonation, even if it is improbable, seems like an untenable risk for the sake of…”
E: “…what has yet eluded me.”
A: “It was, at least, a fortuitous occurrence in this instance.”
E: “fortuitous?”
A: “It had been imparted upon me that such pronounced destruction is laudable when said loss is suffered exclusively by the enemy.”
The suddenness and brash honesty of the automaton’s profession seizes the engineer with an insuperable, rising sense of shame. In attempt to succeed in its concealment, she instinctually averts her eyes from the fixed glare of the automaton’s unlit bulb and hollow socket.
E: “Beneficial or otherwise, that is not my primary concern at the moment.”
Recollecting her resolution, she one again meets the emotionless, penetrating gaze emerging from behind the gunpowder-stained face plate of her automaton companion.
E: “This was a dismissible, rare error. You will attest to that statement’s veracity.”
A: “I cannot provide an alternative.”
E: “…Okay.”
The grotesque extrusion of rivets and metal plates still secured between her twitching, bent fingers is finally relinquished and subsequently laid, with respectful consideration, back upon the scorched earth.
As the two endeavor to leave their disturbed surroundings behind them, the camera retains its central focus on the distorted visage of the fragmented automaton.
Fade out.
Scene 20
Fade in.
Situated in a meager camp surrounded by the muted tones of a mid-afternoon sky, the engineer and the automaton rest quietly. She looks askew, her eyes never wavering from their solemn gaze out across the low-lying mist filtering between crumbling formations of eroded stones. Eventually, she removes a notebook and pencil from her knapsack and turns with bleak austerity to the automaton.
E: “I need to be alone for a while to work something out.”
E: “Stay within a fifty-meter radius, I’ll send for you once I’ve finished.”
A: “With respect to the lateness of the hour, I must exhort you to avoid superfluous actions.”
E: “Please, I just need some time.”
A: “It is not mine to give.”
…
E: “Spare me four hours. I’ll not exceed that duration. I promise.”
A: “I shall await your call, then.”
E: “T-Thank you.”
The automaton leaves the visage of the engineer, scribbling fervently upon her scrap papers, in its wake.
Fade out.
Scene 21
Fade in.
The enveloping echo of disparate sounds of war, discordant and inharmonious in their knell, grow ever louder as the automaton narrowly avoids entering their propinquity. Left to venture at its own discretion, the automaton explores, with purposeless directionality, the incongruous serenity of the turbid river and silhouetted trees that border the non-existent path of its peregrination. Impeded in the fluidity of its journey by the encrusted flakes of rust clinging to its track and the strained, syncopated shutters of its over-heated motor, it moves slowly forward. A diffusion of ruby rays tinges the sky with increasing brilliance as the duration of the automaton’s aimless perambulation is protracted. Above the breathless screams succeeding the crash of connecting bombardment, the quivering voice of the engineer immediately arrests the attention of the automaton.
E: “Return. Now.”
It obeys instantly.
Fade out.
Scene 22
Fade in.
The engineer, displaying the furrowed brow and distant, clouded stare of one laden with fatigue, sits restlessly atop a pile of crumpled blankets and hunches over the filled pages of her notebook.
The automaton enters the tent and engages her.
A: “If you have concluded, may we resume?”
E: “One moment. The specifications of that old, defunct automaton I opened earlier are considered standardized, correct?”
A: “For that iteration, yes.”
E: “Good. On this assumption, I attempted to mathematically reconstruct the circumstances surrounding the explosion.”
E: “However…”
E: “Even applying the most generous terms and considering multiple variations in the scenario, my calculations always concluded with an irreconcilable discrepancy between the Ionium used in the automaton and the quantity required to induce an explosion of that degree of violence.”
A: “It is possible you simply erred.”
E: “The figures are off so profoundly as to deem that explosion impossible. No matter what I try, I still can’t account for it…”
The obfuscating perseverations of her mind suddenly dissipate, precipitating a terrifying lucidity.
E: “At least, in the older iteration of automaton.”
She suddenly stares at her companion.
E: “I’m sorry-”
With the application of a nimble swiftness, the engineer brandishes her tools and sets to work unscrewing the front plates of the automaton. Before it can offer protestation, she has acquired access to its internal mechanisms.
-.. --- -.
The power is switched off, and the screen instantly turns dark.
Scene 23
Fade in.
The automaton awakens alone under the taut canvas draping of the engineer’s tent. Controlled uninterruptedly by the player, it exits beneath the folded flap, and, soon, escapes the confines of their camp, its pace dismal and its movement laborious.
The silhouetted outlines of reciprocated entrenchments arise from amidst a dense precipitation of fog settling into the nestled, barren valley. A dissemination of the low-angled rays of the crepuscular sun stains the field and its features in a preternatural hue of amber. The echoes of war encroach with precarious proximity to the edge of a thin brush where the engineer stares plaintively out at the transpiring fray.
The player, as the automaton, heads towards the engineer. In response, she turns to greet its advance. The moment it rolls up to her side, however, its single eye socket flashes a deep blue and the automaton continues to move past, ignoring any attempt at input made by the player to reverse these movements.
E: “NO! W-WAIT!”
With a frenetic, desperate lurch forward, the engineer struggles to procure her electromagnet and catch up to the automatic advance of the automaton. The electromagnet quivering in her tremulous grasp, she forces its weight against the exposed metallic chest escaping towards the brutal altercation and the horizon beyond. The automaton immediately ceases in its mindless venture and addresses her.
A: “I suppose you found your answer.”
…
E: “You knew, didn’t you?”
A: “Yes.”
E: “And you were remotely instructed to withhold all information pertaining to it?”
A: “I concede to your vague statement.”
She bows her head in despondent contemplation.
E: “We don’t have to let it be. I could permanently sever the remote connection and then we…”
A: “Desertion is a contravention for you, an impossibility for me. I would not last.”
E: “I-I know. I wasn’t thinking of deserting.”
E: “Preventing the culmination of your mission, however…”
The assuredness of her conviction suddenly wavers and again she is indisposed by the emergence of innumerable considerations, burdensome and debilitating in their simultaneity and contradiction.
She eventually refines the discord in her mind, parsing out the questions of greatest personal significance.
E: “Do they anticipate the attainment of finality from this?”
A: “Yes.”
E: “And the contingency?”
A: “Continued demoralization of soldiers and concentrated civilians until capitulation is coerced.”
E: “How long?”
A: “Months, at least.”
Broken beneath the palpable weight of the automaton’s words, the engineer steadies her body against the seizing rigidity of her tense, writhing muscles.
E: “I shouldn’t be the one to make this choice. I can’t make this choice.”
A: “Pursuing these answers was not mandatory.”
E: “It was to me.”
…
The automaton initiates a transmission.
A: “.. ..- -. -.. . ”
It truncates the message prior to its completion. After a few seconds of latent silence have passed, it begins anew.
A: “We do not have time to deliberate or compare potential outcomes.”
E: “I know, I... know.”
Anxiety stimulates a torrent of amalgamating thoughts, indistinct and blurred, as the engineer fights to quell the raucousness in her mind and attain a moment of lucid, quiet contemplation.
Intaking a shuttering gasp of breath, the engineer closes her eyes and thinks.
E: “We have all endured so much for…”
Her voice cracks and pidders into silence as she finds herself unable to culminate her own statement. She quenches the rising turbulence stirring within her head and endeavors to begin once again.
E: “How can I willingly protract the suffering?”
The integrity of the ardent resolve that stiffens her trembling fingers around the electromagnet and maintains the device’s pressure against the hard surface of the automaton slowly weakens.
Her muscles grow lax and the magnet wavers in her grasp.
A: “Are you electing to comply with your original orders?”
E: “Yes.”
A: “Then you are aware of what must follow.”
Tempered with sudden assuredness, the engineer looks directly upon the single, unlit bulb of the stoic automaton and meekly nods her head.
A: “This final decision is yours alone.”
E: “What decision still remains?”
…
A: “You do not have to watch.”
Sorrow overtakes her ragged frame, propagating silent tremors and wracking her florid features with stifled sobs.
She shakes her head and looks up at its expressionless face.
E: “No, I’ll stay.”
A: “For the opportunity to obtain empirical confirmation?”
She nods wearily.
E: “And for you.”
Through the contortion of lineaments carving the visage of indelible melancholy, a strained smile emerges upon the engineer’s cracking lips. She leans in without hesitation, gathering the rusted, metal plates of the automaton within her arms and resting her head against the operating machinery resonating from behind its enclosed chest cavity.
Surmounting the encumbering reluctance binding her to the automaton’s frame, the engineer separates herself, her eyes reddened and stained with the evidence of irrepressible sorrow.
She drops the electromagnet and rises.
- - . - - - - - - - . . - . . . - . - - .
The automaton’s eye glows blue as control is wrested one final time. It passes, stoic and silent, beyond the engineer towards the clamor of cries and gunfire in the distance.
The engineer removes her cap as the diminutive automaton disappears amongst the heavy fog, a hazy blur of blue light the sole reminder of its presence.
The image fades into darkness, though the faded, murky illumination remains.
A flash of blue emanates from its center, rattling the screen.
End.