It Speaks!

It's there, right down there!

Koda gestures eagerly into the unremarkable pit.

That's nothing, it's just some mud. We didn't come out for this, right?

Koda shakes their head.

No, no, you're on the wrong side. Come over here, you'll see it here.

Shannon skirts the ridge, crossing patiently upon stones, and stops besides Koda — who moves aside just a bit — and yes, it's down there, plain to see.

Woah.

Streaked and speckled, mossed and sunk into earth, a structure lies below in the soft sunlight. Its stone walls embraced, caressed, by tree roots. Silent, beckoning.

Ellis reckons it was the rain, it was all swimming when we found it. I come out here every day, you know that, and there's never a hole. You'd bet I'd seen it if there was.

I dunno, maybe the water carried it out. Have you been down there yet?

Koda shakes their head.

We found it and like stood there for a while, just staring and staring down at it. Can't see much up here, though. El told me you'd like it, go and grab Shannon while I take a look. And I did.

The two teens stand for a while, staring into the dark little doorway resting beneath the tumbled slope. Shannon leans out to sniff, finding only petrichor, damp wood, upended nature.

Well then, should we go in?

They lower themselves into the hole, grasping clay and root, scraping knee against gravel, and are suffused by a muted stink. Algae, like dead fish. Shannon covers their nose as Koda clicks on a torch, flicking light around inside. It's like a riverbed, coated in muck and slumped against the walls, carrying the shrapnel of furniture throughout. Koda finds a heavy door lying alone on its back; Shannon traces deep gouges on the doorway that mark their fingers with dust.

It's like a sinkhole collapsed and blew it all in. But surely there wasn't enough water for that.

Are you serious? We had no school for a week, Shannon. That's a lot of rain. You would know it if you ever looked outside.

I've been catching up on homework! Maybe you wouldn't cram if you did that.

Whatever!

A distant, rhythmic clattering begins rising from within, to their right. Koda lights a stairwell behind an open door, where the air is grainy, but ground is clean. Books stand stacked against the wall. Koda kicks a tower down, frightening dust into suspension as they take flight. Shannon stoops to inspect a page.

Can you read braille?

Only a little bit. Mum shows me it, but then my sister hides her books.

Shannon exchanges the book for the torch, and they take the stairs. The steps lightly sag and creak with each footstep, like a bolt could crumble to rust at any moment. As they near the bottom, the sounds' clarity resolves into pinging metal and skittering stone. They turn a corner into an expansive room with a vaulted ceiling. Rows of stacked books cross the floor like a sparse vineyard, and Ellis stands amongst them. They pick up a rock, set eye on a particularly offensive snarl of metal amongst the rubble, and throw a fast one. Ka-chink. Koda calls out.

Hey El! I got Shannon.

I heard you on the stairs. This place is falling apart.

The two stop alongside Ellis, who throws another. Shannon asks,

What's this place all about? Have you found anything yet?

You'd like this robot. I'm seeing if it moves.

Ellis sends off another rock, striking the scrap atop the rubble. If you squint, you may nearly convince yourself it is humanoid. Shannon steps out for a closer look, unphased by the whizzing stones. The roof has fallen on it. The lower half is lost, crushed by a great slab like a bug.

You didn't even leave a dent Ellis.

How do you know? The whole thing is smashed in.

Shannon looks the frail robot over. It's spindly — skeletal even — with felt hands worn at the fingertips, and a smooth plated face adorned only by dark, inset eyes. Shannon lifts its chin, finding underneath that the entire contents of the head are exposed. A thickly cabled web, ribosomal, ties together a network of dense electronics, banks of capacitors, blocks of hardware. The spinal column has been torn loose, cut from the brain, which Shannon reattaches through trial-and-error. A status light meekly winks on, coils gently hum.

Woah, it has power! Maybe this old thing might still wake up?

Koda is the first over.

No way! What'd you do? What'd you find in it?

They get to their knees for a peek, but it defies understanding. They shake their head. Ellis crouches just the same, then steps back.

It's a screwed mess up in that business Shannon. It won't turn on.

It turns on. Violently jerking backward, scattering pebble and dust from its body. Shannon jumps, Koda yelps, and the robot adjusts its eyes. Winding in and out, focusing, making sense of the three fleshy creatures before it.

Could it be? You have finally returned for me?

It speaks; enthusiastic, touched with fuzz. Garbage sifts beneath its body as it bows slightly toward the three, who stand stunned.

You have long since sealed my home, but...

It trails off, staring at their faces. They look at each other, eyes asking what to do, checking nobody else is making an odd face. Koda rocks on their heels. Shannon clears their throat.

I think you're confused, we don't know who you are. We've never been here.

I see... yes, excuse me, you appear familiar. Were you sent by the automaton committee?

No, we were just walking around...

Koda interjects.

Me and Ellis, them there, were going up here to home, and there was this pit with your place at the bottom under, like, chin deep water. We had bad rain.

Well then, have you told them this place has been exposed?

The committee? We don't have none. Well, except maybe with school, but they aren't about ‘automatons.’

Its head tilts — just slightly — as it stares blankly into space.

So you are unfamiliar with myself, or this place? You could have gotten lost. Or hurt. It is a health hazard in here...

Following this train of thought it flicks its gaze across the rubble, the stones and torn pages, and its body flattened beneath stone.

May you free me? I want to see the sun.

Ellis shakes their head, watching intently,

First tell what you are for. Or we'll leave you, given what other automatons have done.

Shannon adds,

It was this month, around four hundred years ago, the puppet automata.

It rubs its hands, smoothing the threadbare palms. If it had skin, it would sweat.

Do I look a puppet? I promise, I am not. My arms hardly bear themselves, let alone... well... no, I am unique. Experimental. Automata were unstable, challenging to control. So an automata was gifted a mind, one to feed upon the human experience. But, rather than risk real interaction, they deemed books safer...

It gestures around. There must be hundreds of stacks, thousands of stories in the thick and thin, a uniform white collection, stacked wall to wall of the tomb. Not to mention those buried, or further within. Ellis cocks their head,

Well, how did that go? How did it handle a name?

It was the first automata to accept one. As noise settled, and clarity found footing, it was revealed upon the page. You may call me Bergen.

The three turn to each other, finally agreeing to lift it from this forgotten hole underground. It's no longer reasonable to suspect this is a façade. They will show Bergen, the first wise, the sun. Beings of history unknowing they are so.

Careful, don't twist.

Can you balance? Do you need to hold my hand?

It's lucky we found you, lucky to find anything like you at all.

They stumble over each other to free Bergen, to have them standing again. They heave the slab in small scrapes, adjusting as their rubble footholds tumble away. A leg warped in and over itself, yet still holding on, tears away once Bergen can move. The hips sockets are no bigger than grapes, the last actuators just strong enough to support standing. The three take a breather as Bergen sits to check their body.

I cannot feel, so I did not know what would be left down there. But I wanted my legs, I wanted to keep them.

Shannon holds their hand. It's delicate, like a hand-made winter glove.

It's okay, we'll help you up. Maybe you can get a new one? Or we'll stick a peg leg on you.

Bergen laughs, soft and warm.

Like a pirate.

Koda and Ellis lift Bergen by the arms, as Shannon lights the way. Past the carefully stacked books, creaking up the steps, splashing through the foyer. They let Bergen go to lean against the doorframe, head arched to watch the sun for the first time.