The air outside feels heavier than it should. Each breath burns cold on the way in and warm on the way out, like breathing through metal itself. The wind hums low, carrying dust that tastes faintly of ash.
My boots sink into soft grey sand that might once have been concrete. The sky is the colour of bruised skin, purple and gold bleeding together at the edges. Everything here looks half-dead, half waiting to collapse.
Cadence hums softly in my head, a faint vibration that isn't entirely sound.Power reserves: six percent. That is… less than ideal.
I close my eyes. "Elaborate"
You will cease to function long before reaching anywhere of importance.
"Encouraging," I mutter.
There is a pause. Then, brightly, she adds, Good news: I have located a potential power source five point two miles to the north-east.
"And the bad news?"
At this rate, we will arrive at roughly two percent capacity. But at least we arrive.
Her tone carries the ghost of amusement, and despite everything, I almost smile.
The sand crunches beneath each step. My balance feels off, my body heavier on one side, one foot dragging like it doesn't trust the ground. The glow in my arm flickers, the faint yellow thread that Cadence insists is a stable charge.
It doesn't feel stable. It feels hungry.
"Where exactly are we going?" I ask.
Unknown. The signal source is faint but structured. Could be energy, could be… something compatible.
"Compatible." The word sticks in my throat. "You mean another part?"
Possibly. The pause again, deliberate. Possibly not.
"Do you ever sound sure about anything?"
I don't know, Cadence answers after a long moment. I'm just as new to this as you are.
The reply freezes me mid-step. "You're new?"
Define new. I am operational, but… learning. The admission feels almost embarrassed.
"Guess that makes two of us."
The horizon wavers under the heat. In the distance, jagged metal rises from the sand like bones. A ruined overpass, maybe. Beneath it, the faint shimmer of glass catches the light.
Cadence says nothing for a while, and the silence feels almost human.
I walk until the burn in my legs fades into rhythm. The hum of internal servos matches the beat of my heart, two systems pretending to share the same purpose. I try not to think about how much of me is machine now.
By the time the sun sinks lower, my limbs feel heavier. The air vibrates faintly with static, and each step sends sparks of light crawling through the seams of my arm.
Cadence's voice returns, softer now.You are tiring faster than projected. Recommend rest interval.
I glance around. "Where? The sand? The apocalypse?"
The tone doesn't change. Rest anywhere that seems least likely to collapse.
I snort under my breath. "Great criteria."
I find the remnants of a half-buried transport truck, its metal skeleton jutting from the dunes. The cabin has caved in, but one side window, it still clings to the frame, fractured but intact enough to throw a reflection.
When I crouch beside it, the world tilts. My reflection stares back, half of it human, half of it forged from iron. The light in my mechanical eye pulses faintly, flickering with the same rhythm as the thread in my arm.
I touch the line where skin meets alloy. Nothing. No warmth, no pressure, just the faint echo of motion.
"This can't be real," I whisper.
It is measurable reality, Cadence replies. The probability of hallucination is low.
I glare at the cracked glass. "You really need to work on comfort."
There's a pause, then a subtle shift in tone, almost teasing.Would you prefer I lie?
The edge of my mouth twitches despite the ache behind my eyes. "You could try gentler wording."
At least you have a body, Cadence says finally, almost softly.
The words hit harder than they should. I look down at my reflection again. The human eye looks tired, old. The mechanical one looks eternal. Between them, there's nothing that feels like me.
"Were you one of them?" I ask before I can stop myself.
One of what?
"Those who didn't."
There's static in the silence that follows. Then:That information is… incomplete.
The hesitation is strange. For something that claims to be all code, she sounds uncertain.
I sit there for a while, watching the light fade. The sand shifts with the wind, whispering like something alive. The world feels wrong, too quiet, too empty, like the planet itself is holding its breath.
"Cadence," I say quietly. "If we make it to that signal… what then?"
Then we continue. We repair. We rebuild. That is the logical course.
"Logical," I repeat, staring at my reflection again. "You make that sound like faith."
Faith is illogical, she says. But it keeps most organisms moving.
I huff a tired laugh and push myself up. "Guess we've got that in common."
Sand slides under my boots as I climb out of the truck's shadow. The glow in my arm flares, then dims again, like a heartbeat losing strength. The city skeleton in the distance catches the last of the sun, towers bent at impossible angles, girders like ribs.
Cadence breaks the silence again, quieter now.Warning: internal temperature dropping. I recommend movement.
I start walking, following the line of broken road stretching into the horizon. The wind carries the smell of ozone and something sweet, like burnt plastic.
As I move, the faint glow under my skin steadies. I can almost imagine it's warmth, not energy. Life, not charge.
Somewhere behind me, the wind catches the shard of window glass and sends it rolling through the sand until it catches the sunlight again. For a moment, it flashes bright gold, like the world trying to remind me that something still shines.
The signal ahead pulses once through my HUD, faint, rhythmic, deliberate. Cadence's voice follows a moment later.Signal integrity seventy-one percent. Approximate distance: four point nine miles.
"Still north-east?"
Affirmative.
"And our power?"
Five percent.
"Five," I repeat. "That's not much of a cushion."
Not really, she says, almost cheerfully. But if we collapse halfway, I'll still have enough power to record the event.
I stare at the horizon. "You're terrible."
Thank you.
The hum of servos steadies as I start forward again. Every movement feels heavier, slower, but there's something in Cadence's tone that keeps me going. A small echo of humanity hiding inside machine precision.
As the sun finally slips beneath the wrecked skyline, the faint yellow shimmer on the horizon brightens, not energy, not a cell, but something meant for me. A part. A piece. A promise.
The air cools, the sand turns silver under the fading light, and Cadence whispers into the silence,If we keep this pace, we arrive before full systems failure.
"And if we don't?"
Then we don't arrive.