Protocol Drift

His jaw broke away from the skull when I rolled him over.

Face buried in the ash, arm tucked beneath his chest as if he was dragging his body but forgot how. The wind changed the surface of the land, gray powder filled his clothes, crevices, corners of his mouth. Eyes wide open, but not in fear, in acceptance of the inevitable.

My knee pressed against the once lived in vessel.

“Check for signs of life.” No one was around to hear me.

I pressed two fingers against his neck, checking for something that wasn’t there or hadn’t been in a long time.

Orderly, structured, normal, habit.

I wiped the dust onto my pant leg.

“Sorry,” I said.

It sounded lonely.

It was lonely.

Pockets first, always first.

Left empty.

Right: a lighter, I rolled the flint…An empty lighter.

A knife. I ran my finger across the blade, dull.

Jacket pocket held a photo from the time before.

A man, woman and child standing in front of a house with a SOLD sign on the property. Something flashed before my eyes, maybe my life before this.

“Non Essential.”

I didn’t put it back.

Ash skittered across the broken asphalt, hissing on the wreckage and bones, like the world exhaling.

I flipped the flap on the backpack, loosened the drawstring, standard procedure.

Open, Assess, Scavenge, Repeat.

Two cans, empty water bottle, cloth and a handful of ammunition, useless without a gun.

I left the pack open, the universal sign for empty.

“Minimize waste, Preserve Function.”

I stood, scanning the horizon.

No movement, no silhouettes, just the skeletal remains of a city. No heat shimmer, no traffic, just cracked roads shrinking in the distance.

Turning to leave I stopped.

The photo drew me in, again. The smiles, the child, the innocence, the laughter. Lives that mattered.

All gone in the time it took to capture it.

I felt my stomach lurch, still no memory surfaced.

“Unnecessary inventory.” It was nothing more, though it fit nicely into my jacket pocket.

The wind sprayed the ash into a blinding veil. I turned my head away, froze still, eyes narrowed.

“It will pass, it always does.”

Once it cleared, I tightened my pack straps and continued into the empty silence. Moving through it like I had done so many times before, without hesitation, but not without error.

“Survival is function,” I said.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

I woke when the sunlight snuck through the cracks in the siding. It took close to three hours before I found and broke the seal on a suitable structure.

The cans I pulled out of the wanderers pack were dented but sealed. Beans with bacon, tasted tinny, but provided much needed sustenance.

Six minutes to consume.

Steam had evaporated from the boiling pot which had cooled over night. After swigging two mouthfuls, I filled the empty water bottle. I stood up and stretched, providing relief after a hard sleep. Grease from the empty can soothed the dryness of my gritty skin and lips.

I stepped out of the structure onto the stairs, the deck creaked under my weight.

Scanning, Assessing, Planning.

After another hour of walking I tucked under an overpass. Shielded from the gale. The sound was faint at first but became louder than the wind.

I saw her tucked into a crack in the foundation, a makeshift cave.

She was hurt.

Bleeding from the face, her voice was bleak, her presence was a liability.

“Please.” She said.

My stomach panged, I froze, still no memory.

Leaning out from her hollow she grabbed onto my arm, weak and burdened. I reached back.

She held onto me as I carried her through the blast of dust as it slashed at our skin.

Backtracking is the only option when you need the assurance of shelter. Back to where I just left.

The rickety stairs collapsed under our weight.

She didn’t stir as we crashed to the ground. She would need to rest for us to move forward.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

My inventory was dwindling, the cans of meat were few and far between, providing protein and energy that was needed to travel. I finished a can and a half this sitting.

She lay curled up beside the fire, blood drying from the scrapes on her face.

I heard the patio groan like a guard dog alerting me to an unseen presence.

They must’ve seen the smoke.

I walked towards the door, pulling out my large blade.

It swung open and stopped dead on my boot that was planted in the way . An arm and hand slipped through the opening grabbing at the air.

I pushed back with all my weight, leaning against the door. Slowly I began to raise the weapon.

“Let me in there.” It snarled.

From high above my head I brought the blade down.

The owner of the arm howled when I lopped it off, one swift motion.

Stepping aside I allowed the figure, less an arm, to fall through the doorway in pain.

They scrambled around the floor attempting to pick it up, blood leaked out of them in thick gushes.

Consciousness left them soon after their extremity did.

I turned to see the girl sitting up by the fire, she was watching me as I hopped around the blood seeping across the floor. She was eating the morsels of meat I left in the tin can.

“We must leave,” I said.

She tapped the bottom of the can attempting to dislodge the pieces stuck inside.

She wiped her face, smearing a little undried blood. She shook her head.

“I can’t, I’m not ready.” She said.

Her voice was raspy and forced.

I wiped the blood clean off the blade on the back of the soon to be corpse.

“You don’t look like the rest of them.” She said, watching me with the interest of a parent watching their child.

“What do you mean.” I said.

“I mean you look like you just started in this world. Your skin, your body, your hair.” She scanned me up and down, pointing out each observation.

I shrugged.

“What’s your earliest memory.” She asked like she knew something I didn’t.

My stomach lurched. I couldn’t answer.

She stood up and walked over with limp that looked like a person who lived for a hundred years, she couldn’t have been older than thirty-five.

“I’m guessing you can’t remember can you?” She said, as she made her way to me.

Grabbing my arm and squeezing, she rolled the muscle between her palm.

“Have you heard of the ‘Constructs’?” She asked, while studying my eyes.

I shook my head.

“They walk like people, they breathe like people, they think like people but they are anything but.”

She leaned down and picked up the severed limb, sliding the gold ring off the detached hand and trying it on.

“No emotions.” She said, looking back at me.

I watched her, every movement, every muscle twitch. Prediction was the best defense, she sized me up, possibly planning an attack.

She moved in closer.

“Rumour has it they have a Headquarters not far from here.” She said as she pointed in the direction.

I grabbed her hand as it was reaching out, spinning her away from me. I pressed the knife against her throat, her hair splashed across my beard, under my nose.

Something familiar flashed behind my eyes, the scent brought me back to a moment, a flicker.

She reached up and laid a gentle hand on my arm, I lowered the blade.

Was it real, the feeling I had only heard about to this point, a memory.

She stepped forward and turned to look at me.

“You’ve shown emotion, you’ve shown compassion, you are not one of them.” She said.

She leaned in and placed her hand on my face, I pressed against it. Her palm was comfortable, familiar. Only a moment passed before I pushed it away.

“Rest up, we need to leave at dawn.”

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

She hobbled behind me, slowly, painfully.

My thoughts raced back to that memory, or what I thought was a memory. No faces, no visions, just a smell. I couldn’t pinpoint it, just an internal drive, a thought, something that I longed to have.

My stomach fluttered, this time, no memory, just a smell.

“Can you remember a smell?” I said.

“Yes” She responded from behind me.

I forgot I wasn’t alone.

“Keep walking,” I said.

She continued talking but her voice was too strained for me to hear.

It took six hours by my calculations before we reached the building. The one so many had told me about.

Large turbines stretched high above the ground, spinning with a predictable rhythm, surrounding this twenty story structure. Lights, food, water, shelter were the treasures inside.

Two guards stopped us at the gate.

One tall, one short.

“Welcome home.” The tall one said.

“Who is this with you?” The other said, pointing at the girl.

I turned to look at her, she stopped limping and looked up from under her hair.

“Stephanie,” she said.

“Is she your’s?” The tall one asked, looking at me.

“Mine?” I asked.

“Yes,” He said. “Your’s?”

The short one raised his gun, pointing it at the girl, she didn’t react, she accepted it.

“Yes!” I said. “She belongs to me, lower your firearm.”

Thankfully for him he did.

“Very well.” The tall one said, pulled out his clipboard and checked a box. I could see the page, a list. EV-12 was written beside the box he just checked.

The short guard keyed his radio.

“EV-12 plus one, coming up.”

The girl was beside me now, she grabbed onto my arm.

The doors mechanically parted, opening into a long hallway with a pulley lift at the end.

The building was cool, clean and enveloping.

“I can breathe, again.” Stephanie said.

I opened the gate on the lift basket. I took off my bag and put it at my feet. The pulley yanked us upwards as it squeaked. I could hear noise getting louder and louder as we rose.

Stephanie tugged on my arm as we got closer to the hole in the ceiling, where the basket was headed.

“People.” She said.

I picked up my bag and threw it over my shoulder as we breached the opening. Multiple dwellers were standing around us, two of them had fresh clothes folded in their hands. The jeans were a vibrant blue, the shirt was snow white.

We were both handed a stack, according to our sex.

“Welcome home.” A blond lady sitting behind a desk said.

“We will show you to your suite.” She invited us to follow her down a hallway.

Multiple people whispered as we past. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch.

“I’m scared,” Stephanie said.

I was uneasy, on guard.

Felt off but familiar.

We were brought to a doorway that was locked. The blond woman unlocked it and handed me the keys. EV-12 was stamped on the door.

“This is your suite, Sir.” She leaned over and opened the door.

“The Commander will brief you in your personal office in one hour. Help yourself to food and drink in your fridge. Room service is available twenty four-seven if you feel the need for anything else.” She placed her hand on my shoulder.

“Welcome home, Sir.” She said before walking away, but not before nudging a shoulder past Stephanie.

“Bitch,” Stephanie said.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

The warm water pressed against my skin, peeling away layers of the past, circling in ribbons down the drain.

Minimize waste, preserve function.

It didn’t fit here.

I could hear Stephanie’s clanging of utensils.

I stepped out. Water fell from my beard. Pooled at my feet. The mirror was fogged so I wiped it.

My face looked back.

Clean. No scars. Eyes steady. Too steady.

I grinned, all my teeth.

Not luck. Not survival. Something else.

I dried off. Then dressed, catching a glimpse of EV-12 printed on the back of the white shirt.

Must be an identifier.

The clothes fit perfectly, like they were expecting me.

I stepped out of the bathroom and the girl was standing naked in the hallway, her body was dirty and covered in years of dust. Her face was wiped clean near her mouth from eating and drinking.

“Those clothes fit you perfectly,” she said.

I looked down, sizing them up once again.

“If I’m not like those Constructs, What am I?” I asked.

She smiled, “You’re a survivor.” She grabbed my arm as she slipped past me into the bathroom.

A fresh brewed coffee was on the table for me. I walked over, sipped it.

Warm and Comforting.

Music faintly played in a room at the far end of the suite. I walked over grabbing an apple and a knife.

The office was bright. Aggressively clean.

I stopped for a minute, hearing the staccato of the tune as every note was played perfectly, methodically, and inviting.

I sliced a piece of apple into my mouth.

A voice cut in, stopping the music.

“Sit down EV-12, we have a lot to discuss,” the voice said.

I stepped around the desk and saw a man dressed in a white lab coat looking back at me. His hair was gray, his glasses were black rimmed and generic. He smiled, showing yellowish stained teeth. Behind him were other people wearing lab coats, different ages and a few had the same black rimmed glasses. Pupils.

“Who are you.” I asked.

A flicker.

“Some would call me the Creator. The Architect.”

The others stood behind him. Watching.

I sat in the chair, the cushion sank as my weight pressed down. I never spoke just watched.

Scanning, Assessing, Planning.

“Welcome Home EV-12.” He said.

I leaned back in my chair, there’s that word again ‘Home’.

”This isn’t my home.” I said.

He smiled.

“Don’t be so silly Everett, this is your home. This is where you were first activated.”

Activated. Everett. The word, the name, it struck.

A flash, flickering, beeping sounds, whirring of machines, the grey haired man leaning over me.

“Adaptive. Resilient. Built to blend,” he said.

His smile held.

“Built to feel. When needed.”

Something shifted in me.

Not a fault.

Something else.

“You were sent out to learn about the collapse. Then return.”

Return. Built. Activated.

“Construct,” I whispered.

“Thats right Everett,” he said. “Now we refine, cut waste. Restore purpose.”

I saw it then. Not in words. In the end state.

“No.” I said.

The room went still.

His smile tightened. “That is not your decision.”

A click behind me.

I turned, my apple fell to the floor.

Two guards. Weapons up. Clean steel. Stephanie was standing between them.

She met my eyes. Tears streaked her cheeks.

I moved towards them, anticipating what was to come.

“They told me,” she said. “What you are.”

A shake in her voice.

“What did you do?” I asked.

Her face was painted with Shame, Fear, Sadness.

“I brought you here. That was the deal.” She said.

Deal.

“You were hurt.” I said.

“I was convincing,” she said as she looked away.

“EV-12,” the man said, taking control of the room again. “Step away.”

Stephanie did not look at him.

“Please Everett, do it,” she said.

“Your purpose is clear,” he said. “You remove threats.”

I looked at her hands. Trembling. Empty.

“It’s time Everett. Your final assessment,” he said.

The guns lifted pointing at her.

Time split.

Breathe. Distance. Neutralize.

Three steps. Two cuts. Save the girl.

My grip tightened.

“Minimize waste,” I said.

First man dropped.

Second fired and missed.

I closed the distance and cut his throat.

They fell.

Noise filled the room. Scrambling. Shouting.

I did not look at them. Only her.

She had not moved. Her eyes met mine.

“You chose,” she said.

Sirens rose.

“Terminate him!” the grey haired man said.

Footsteps in the hall. More were coming.

I looked at her.

“Come with me.” I said.

She grabbed my hand, zero hesitation.

Sirens climbed higher. We ran. Behind us the building sealed as we slipped through the doors. Metal striking metal. Voices rising.

“Where?” She said. As we stepped into the wind.

I looked out.

No plan, No scanning, No assessing.

“Forward.” I said.

For the first time ‘they’ didn’t know the outcome.

Neither did I.