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Ward's intense boredom was broken by a strange sounding footstep coming from outside his cell. It wasn't like the usual rubber-padded boot step that the guard that delivered food made, it sounded like a very heavy, metal object being dropped on the floor outside. From what Ward had observed for the two days he had spend in captivity, the floor outside was some kind of metal grate and judging by the fact that the only sound ever was his movement and the ringing in his ears, Ward concluded he was somewhere underground.
The clunking step came in uneven sets of four, as though there was a giant metal cow outside the cell but what stepped in wasn't exactly a metal cow at all, and was definitely the most hideous thing Ward had ever seen. The solid white wall to the right of the sunken mirror slid back and moved to the side, revealing a creature that stood eight feet tall. The top half was that of a man, with the exception of the exposed pieces of metal that shone through the sickly pale flesh. In these exposed places were wires and tubes that ran from that point to the bottom half of the mechanical beast. The bottom half was completely metal, and built to mimic the body of a horse. The servos and motors could be seen as the... thing stepped inside the 10 by 10 by 10 cube that served as a cell. The half-man had the face, or what was left of the face, of a large, well built man in his early 30's. Half the face was now covered in various plugs and wires that stuck out and went back in to the head and face in a tangled mess that reminded Ward of unkempt hair. When the creature spoke, it was obvious that the former man's voice box was nearly all the organic matter that remained; the voice was scratchy and deep but strong and strangely friendly. "Do not be frightened, child. We mean you no harm, we only wish to speak with you." Ward craned his neck from his sitting position in the corner, to try to see anyone else behind the creature. He saw no one... nothing else.
Ward wasn't frightened, he'd been in some very dangerous situations and he always got through because he didn't show any fear or panic. His mind gave him a strange feeling of... sympathy for the massive once-man. He spoke calmly, seeming totally indifferent to the situation, "…Why do you call yourself 'we?'"
The beast chuckled a throaty, but not unpleasant, chuckle; "It is a long story." It cleared its throat out of habit. "We were once like you, man-child, strong and unfeeling. Always reacting to situations with stone cold calculations and indifference. We were once a scribe, a military researcher, staying in this very place, which was once called NORAD or Cheyenne Mountain, but we were cut in half by a blast-door in the first hours of the Apocalypse. One of our fellow researchers in the field of robotics, a man by the name of Gerald Moore, managed to build us this mechanical body in his lab. He kept what was left of us in a suspension tank while he finished his work. It took years, and he never told anyone what he was doing until he had finished his project." The creature sat on its "hind-quarters" a strange, animal like gesture. "He made our body well. We have lived for a very long time, but keeping track of such things is pointless. Gerald died never knowing the full potential of what we would become. We began to improve our body over the years, replacing the decaying organs with improved metal ones, and without the distractions of the human body, without a constant, gland induced need to fulfill our atavistic sexual pleasures, we became a purer form of being. We tried to make others like us, but after the former military base was vacated, we were forced to find alternate sources of manpower. We found the Brotherhood of Steel, a treasure-trove of intelligent men and ancient technology. Some of the soldiers were put off by our appearance, which wasn't even as hideous as it is now but we befriended a scribe of the Brotherhood, a man by the name of Roger Perkins. He was an open-minded man, and helped with furthering my life span. In the end, when his body became frail from cancer, we took his consciousness into ours, and became what we are now." Ward wasn't quite sure what to say. The story was by far the most bizarre thing he had ever heard. "We now refer to ourself as We because we are now two people, but neither Felix Muller nor Roger Perkins.” The smile on Its’ face was disturbing in the fact that it was a subconsciously human gesture from something that was still human on the inside. Ward shuddered. “With that, I will leave you to your own devices. You have free run of this facility now; I have other matters to attend to now. Good day.” And with that, the creature clomped down the hallway.
Ward shook his head to clear the aftershock of the conversation he had just had. One second he had been sitting in his cell nearly dying of boredom and the next he was listening to a metal man/horse talk about itself. He noticed that the cell door was left open, showing a dim room that stood out against the white wall. He stepped over the discarded bandages that he had left on the floor, walked cautiously to the doorway and peered around the corner.
There was a dimly lit hallway with metal grating on the floor. Pipes ran under and over the corridor, giving a cramped, industrial feel to the facility. Ward tried to blink the white blur left in his eyes from the bright lights in the cell. He shivered as he stepped into the chill hallway, noticing a significant difference in temperature from his warm cell. He followed the passage to the right, following a strange, rhythmic thumping sound. As he walked down, limping a little and clutching his left side, the sound grew louder until it was almost overpowering. The source of the sound was a doorway to the left. Upon entering, Ward noticed several computer monitors, something he had become familiar with during his stay with the ROC. Seated in front of one of these monitors was a bald man in a wheel chair with his back to the door. At least it looked like a wheel chair. As it slowly turned around, Ward saw that the chair was actually part of the man. Where his legs should have been actually seemed to form into the chair in the same way that the man/horse’s body attached to the mechanical section. His top half lacked the wires and exposed metal, however. He smiled and turned a knob the quieted the thumping to dull whisper. “Hello there! Do you like music, youngster!?” them wheel-man shouted.
“Uh…”
“What? You’re going to have to speak up!! I’m afraid I’ve loved music too much over the years!! It’s killed my hearing!!” He shouted even louder.
“Who are you!?” Ward yelled back.
“Who!? Me!? Oh!! I’m Joe!! Who are you!?”
“Ward!!”
“Cord!?”
“Ward!!”
“Bored!? There’s lots to do around here!!”
“WARD!!”
“Ohhh!! Why didn’t you say so!?”
“I did say so!!”
“Nevermind son, do you like music!?”
“I haven’t heard much!!”
“Well you’ll like this!! It’s called Slipknot!!” Joe turned the knob once again and a new song started up. It was a combination of heavy base and random yelling, but it was strangely good. Even though it was deafening, Ward felt that this kind of music should be listened to this loud. The song went on for a few minutes, and he was sure it would have gone on longer, but he had to leave before he went deaf.
Ward continued his tour of Glass Mountain, still feeling that something was wrong, but then again, when was the last time something was right?
Ah yes, glorious, glorious school!! How I love the daily grind of middle-class suburban oppression. It makes me feel special and at the same time robs me of all the time I would spend writing. One more year. Oh god, one more year. *sob!!*
The clunking step came in uneven sets of four, as though there was a giant metal cow outside the cell but what stepped in wasn't exactly a metal cow at all, and was definitely the most hideous thing Ward had ever seen. The solid white wall to the right of the sunken mirror slid back and moved to the side, revealing a creature that stood eight feet tall. The top half was that of a man, with the exception of the exposed pieces of metal that shone through the sickly pale flesh. In these exposed places were wires and tubes that ran from that point to the bottom half of the mechanical beast. The bottom half was completely metal, and built to mimic the body of a horse. The servos and motors could be seen as the... thing stepped inside the 10 by 10 by 10 cube that served as a cell. The half-man had the face, or what was left of the face, of a large, well built man in his early 30's. Half the face was now covered in various plugs and wires that stuck out and went back in to the head and face in a tangled mess that reminded Ward of unkempt hair. When the creature spoke, it was obvious that the former man's voice box was nearly all the organic matter that remained; the voice was scratchy and deep but strong and strangely friendly. "Do not be frightened, child. We mean you no harm, we only wish to speak with you." Ward craned his neck from his sitting position in the corner, to try to see anyone else behind the creature. He saw no one... nothing else.
Ward wasn't frightened, he'd been in some very dangerous situations and he always got through because he didn't show any fear or panic. His mind gave him a strange feeling of... sympathy for the massive once-man. He spoke calmly, seeming totally indifferent to the situation, "…Why do you call yourself 'we?'"
The beast chuckled a throaty, but not unpleasant, chuckle; "It is a long story." It cleared its throat out of habit. "We were once like you, man-child, strong and unfeeling. Always reacting to situations with stone cold calculations and indifference. We were once a scribe, a military researcher, staying in this very place, which was once called NORAD or Cheyenne Mountain, but we were cut in half by a blast-door in the first hours of the Apocalypse. One of our fellow researchers in the field of robotics, a man by the name of Gerald Moore, managed to build us this mechanical body in his lab. He kept what was left of us in a suspension tank while he finished his work. It took years, and he never told anyone what he was doing until he had finished his project." The creature sat on its "hind-quarters" a strange, animal like gesture. "He made our body well. We have lived for a very long time, but keeping track of such things is pointless. Gerald died never knowing the full potential of what we would become. We began to improve our body over the years, replacing the decaying organs with improved metal ones, and without the distractions of the human body, without a constant, gland induced need to fulfill our atavistic sexual pleasures, we became a purer form of being. We tried to make others like us, but after the former military base was vacated, we were forced to find alternate sources of manpower. We found the Brotherhood of Steel, a treasure-trove of intelligent men and ancient technology. Some of the soldiers were put off by our appearance, which wasn't even as hideous as it is now but we befriended a scribe of the Brotherhood, a man by the name of Roger Perkins. He was an open-minded man, and helped with furthering my life span. In the end, when his body became frail from cancer, we took his consciousness into ours, and became what we are now." Ward wasn't quite sure what to say. The story was by far the most bizarre thing he had ever heard. "We now refer to ourself as We because we are now two people, but neither Felix Muller nor Roger Perkins.” The smile on Its’ face was disturbing in the fact that it was a subconsciously human gesture from something that was still human on the inside. Ward shuddered. “With that, I will leave you to your own devices. You have free run of this facility now; I have other matters to attend to now. Good day.” And with that, the creature clomped down the hallway.
Ward shook his head to clear the aftershock of the conversation he had just had. One second he had been sitting in his cell nearly dying of boredom and the next he was listening to a metal man/horse talk about itself. He noticed that the cell door was left open, showing a dim room that stood out against the white wall. He stepped over the discarded bandages that he had left on the floor, walked cautiously to the doorway and peered around the corner.
There was a dimly lit hallway with metal grating on the floor. Pipes ran under and over the corridor, giving a cramped, industrial feel to the facility. Ward tried to blink the white blur left in his eyes from the bright lights in the cell. He shivered as he stepped into the chill hallway, noticing a significant difference in temperature from his warm cell. He followed the passage to the right, following a strange, rhythmic thumping sound. As he walked down, limping a little and clutching his left side, the sound grew louder until it was almost overpowering. The source of the sound was a doorway to the left. Upon entering, Ward noticed several computer monitors, something he had become familiar with during his stay with the ROC. Seated in front of one of these monitors was a bald man in a wheel chair with his back to the door. At least it looked like a wheel chair. As it slowly turned around, Ward saw that the chair was actually part of the man. Where his legs should have been actually seemed to form into the chair in the same way that the man/horse’s body attached to the mechanical section. His top half lacked the wires and exposed metal, however. He smiled and turned a knob the quieted the thumping to dull whisper. “Hello there! Do you like music, youngster!?” them wheel-man shouted.
“Uh…”
“What? You’re going to have to speak up!! I’m afraid I’ve loved music too much over the years!! It’s killed my hearing!!” He shouted even louder.
“Who are you!?” Ward yelled back.
“Who!? Me!? Oh!! I’m Joe!! Who are you!?”
“Ward!!”
“Cord!?”
“Ward!!”
“Bored!? There’s lots to do around here!!”
“WARD!!”
“Ohhh!! Why didn’t you say so!?”
“I did say so!!”
“Nevermind son, do you like music!?”
“I haven’t heard much!!”
“Well you’ll like this!! It’s called Slipknot!!” Joe turned the knob once again and a new song started up. It was a combination of heavy base and random yelling, but it was strangely good. Even though it was deafening, Ward felt that this kind of music should be listened to this loud. The song went on for a few minutes, and he was sure it would have gone on longer, but he had to leave before he went deaf.
Ward continued his tour of Glass Mountain, still feeling that something was wrong, but then again, when was the last time something was right?
Ah yes, glorious, glorious school!! How I love the daily grind of middle-class suburban oppression. It makes me feel special and at the same time robs me of all the time I would spend writing. One more year. Oh god, one more year. *sob!!*
