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Dispatcher: Iterator Flocks to the South. Repeat. I am Iterator: Flocks to the South. Urgent message for region, iterator city, located in the swamp near the base of my mountain: My structure will collapse in approximately 4.8 cycles at time of dispatch. Once this message reaches you, my demise will be imminent. I have calculated my presumed trajectory. Your city will be swallowed whole by the impact. Your negligence has doomed you.
[Attached Files: 1 Document.]
Attachment contains: The current state of my structure. This is not a farce. There is not a single counterfeit character in this document. You will see me. You will see every component of my being and you will know what you have done.
I cannot calculate a future in which I might survive. I have tried. I have tried. I do not wish to die. I do not wish to die. I do not wish to die. You did this to me. YOU DID THIS TO ME.
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~ ~ ~
Flocks to the South had 2.63 cycles left to live. She was working in her city when she felt an urgent signal from one of her overseers. Her hands paused. It was Detect— it never bothered her unless the matter was crucial, critical. Flocks leaned back from the wirework, allowing herself to focus fully on Detect's system. Triangles appeared over her eye as she watched.
She quickly recognized the area Detect was in. This was the karma gate at the base of her structure. She couldn't imagine what could be so urgent here. Her gates stood still and solitary, just like they had for countless cycles. The flora was overgrown, almost sealing the doors shut, and—
The chamber was shaking.
She jolted, grabbing her harpoon off the ground and slamming the panel shut behind her. Someone was coming through her karma gate. She mounted the harpoon back onto her arm while she moved across the city with her armature. She could see the gate struggling to open through Detect’s eye. It finally broke free, ripping the plants to shreds without mercy. No one should be here. No one should even think about coming here. She was alone, desolate, abandoned and doomed, and that was all she knew.
She saw them. She saw the ancients, and she slammed the connection closed. They were back. They were going to finish her off.
Flocks lifted herself up, lowering her body on top of a nearby building. It stood sturdy beneath her shaking feet. She still wasn’t used to her newly-built limbs. This building had held the test of time far better than she had. It also gave her a clear view of her evacuation shaft, where the ancients would surely arrive from. It would guide them straight to her, and she would be ready.
The first thing to come through the pipe was not an ancient. It was a small, purple creature. They flicked their one good ear, and then looked directly up at Flocks to the South.
Flocks stayed deathly still. The creature mirrored her, freezing, watching. She idly felt her system identify it as a slugpup. It was not a threat. They were not her prey.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the evacuation shaft behind the slugpup. They flattened their body to the ground and crawled between the rubble, moving deeper into her city. Her eyes stayed on the pipe.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five ancients shuffled into her chamber, one after the other. The majority of them paused, taking in the area and chattering amongst themselves. One of them, however, kept marching ever forward.
“Wait, Thirteen Nests Atop Countless Stones— Where are you going?”
The ancient in the front, Thirteen Nests, hardly bothered to change their pace. “I am going to the general systems access shaft.”
“Shouldn’t we check in with the puppet first?” An ancient near the back gestured upward toward her can. “She sounded—”
“She’s asleep.” Thirteen Nests huffed. “She’s asleep, and she’ll never wake up. The message was sent out by her subconscious. We’ve been over this. Our mission is to reinforce the legs and keep the structure from collapsing.”
“But—” A third ancient elbowed them in the shoulder, stopping their words short. Thirteen Nests turned around, surveying the group.
“I know what I’m doing,” They drawled. “Stay in line.”
Flocks to the South watched silently. The group seemed to wilt and grumble, but they obeyed. They followed Thirteen Nests across her city. Something about the leader sent a chill through Flocks’ wires. The center of their mask was familiar. It was styled after the masks of the vultures. It was far more grandiose, though, just like everything else the ancient wore. Feathers branched out around the center, creating a sort of mane that framed their head in the shape of an X. It had to be ridiculously heavy.
The group moved slowly, stepping on rubble and spare parts Flocks had left on the ground. Her blood boiled. She hated this so, so much. They weren’t supposed to come here. She was supposed to fall. She had already accepted her death (this was a lie), she was supposed to bring them down with her into the deepest depths of—
The ancients disappeared through the access shaft. She had no choice but to let them work.
~ ~ ~
Flocks to the South monitored every step the ancients took. She could see them growing in unease as they noticed the overseers watching them. She didn’t care. She learned that the team of ancients was from the neighboring structure where the Birdwatcher had arrived safely. She learned the structure’s name: Endless Expressionism. She learned that three of the ancients in the group had lived in her city before she was abandoned. All five of them had helped build Expressionism. None of them knew she was awake.
They repaired her structure’s legs. It was hardly a comfort. She was too on edge to feel relief, too angry. These were not the only failing components that threatened her life. The ancients did not care. They only wanted to keep their living city safe. Her life was worth nothing to them. She was not alive to them. She didn’t matter.
At first, she had held on to some hope that the team would leave after they finished. They didn’t. The ancients lingered. They had a small camp set up in her city. They took over one of the abandoned buildings, setting up a system to redirect the vulture smoke out of the immediate area. They were taking it back from her.
The one called Thirteen Nests concerned Flocks the most. She kept overseers on them constantly. She knew she was missing conversations between the other ancients, but she didn’t care. Thirteen Nests kept lingering in her memory arrays.
~ ~ ~
Flocks to the South was watching Thirteen Nests when she felt a presence by her side. She looked down. The purple slugpup stared back at her, their eyes wide. They tilted their head to the side. They nodded.