Of Gears and Humanity

| 26.1

[Elena]

The stables were away from the crowd, away from the joy and cheer. Tucked away in the darkness beside the castle, only partly brightened by two torches on either of the wooden structure's sides. The stables protected the royal horses. Each peacefully chewed at the grass within their stalls, calmly enjoying the night's breeze.

Except for Carmine.

He watched me.

As I approached his corner of the stall, I locked eyes with the horse I always called my forever companion. From the day my father brought him through the castle gates, I knew the horse would be mine—even if my father hadn't intended him to be. My father had argued, claimed it wasn't safe; my child mind saw nothing wrong with an animal as peaceful as a horse.

But as I looked at Carmine, I thought of the days we spent together. His reactions. Seemingly human behaviors to my sentences, my commands, my questions. I had full conversations with Carmine and knew each of his responses without him speaking. And as I stood in front of him, pressing my forehead to his, it was as if he was at peace. Because I knew.

His true nature wasn't a secret to me anymore.

"Elena..." Damien stood behind me. He sighed my name, as if he needed to remind me he was there. I wasn't alone; he'd be my support.

Yet, I felt alone. I glanced back at Damien before looking back at Carmine. My horse's dark eyes focused on me, slow blinks of understanding. What was there to understand? I couldn't wrap my head around it all. Just a week ago, I was living in an ignorant bliss. But even then, I knew there were cracks in my world; stories that made little sense. My mother's journal was supposed to help me see the truths within those cracks; help me conquer my fears.

Instead, I found myself more conflicted than anything.

I want to change the laws, correct my father's lies, but the treaties and rules were made to keep them from us. If I made changes, would I endanger Homestead? Or would there be a common ground?

There had to be. My horse, though created by the Attributions, was gentle, sweet, and everything to me. I was told machines couldn't have that ability...

"Damien?" Stroking the side of Carmine's face, I turned to look back at Damien. He stood at the opening of the stable, hands in the pockets of his pants. His silhouette blocked the moonlight's from outside the opening door, but with the torches inside, I saw his face. And the sadness in his eyes.

When he nodded and looked at me, I pursed my lips. "If Carmine is part machine, then that means that they can are?"

"Who?" Damien's brow pinched together. "Care about what?"

"The Attributions." I bit my lip. "If you survived and were raised by them, that means one of them was kind to you. And care for you. Your father, right?"

Damien nodded but frowned. "My father also did this..." Slowly lifting his hand, he pointed at the injury on his side. "Now, my mother always showed me love. Kindness. Affection."

I blinked. "Real affection?"

Damien shrugged. "It was real to me. At least, as real as a machine can be."

My hand slid away from Carmine's face. He grunted, a small complaint, but I had to move away. I needed to be in front of Damien so he could hear my whisper. "Then that's it." I looked up into his eyes. They flickered with curiosity as he dipped his head. "We can convince the Attributions that they are all capable of kindness so we may live together again."

Damien blinked. "What?"

I thought back to the history I'd learned. Stories of once peace and coexistence with machines. I bit my lip and nodded eagerly. "Humans. Attributions. Together in harmony as we once were."

"Elena," he shook his head, "Attributions lived to control, manipulate. They—"

I pressed myself up on my toes, inching closer. Behind me, Carmine sighed. But I focused on Damien's gaze. "Do you honestly believe that?" I whispered.

"What?"

"Do you honestly believe that the machines who raised who truly desired to control people?" I placed my hand on his chest.

And when I spread my fingers over his shirt, he looked down. "This isn't about what I believe. It's about what I've seen." He sighed. "Attributions manipulated humans because—"

I took a step back. "Because we fought back?"

"I..." He slid his hands forward over his head. "I don't know."

"Listen," I rubbed my hands together, "if we look back at our histories and combine them, they make sense, don't they? I was taught to hate machines because they are evil, but nothing is more horrible than this treaty..."

Damien came close, rubbing his chin. "Make's sense," he said. "I was taught that humans fought machines because they didn't want the Attributions help." He chuckled after, muttering under his breath, "Then they all died, and I was the only one."

"And that's not true." I stopped my fiddling as he closed the gap between us. "You aren't alone. There are a lot of lies in our history, but there's one truth; a single piece I believe I can bring back."

"Bring back a coexistence?" He dipped his head. "You thought about this because you came outside with your horse? Not... that it's a bad thing, just—"

"Just think about it." I took in a deep breath. "The Attributions need hands right, and that's why they wanted children to train, teach—"

Damien's eyes widened as if he waited for me to get to the point.

"But if we're able to teach our adults here, then, there's no need for children. No need for the treaty. Homestead has crafters and weaponsmiths, and—"

"Elena."

"—As I told my father, these men and women will gladly give up their lives for our safety, our future, our peace."

"That's a lot." Damien's tongue trailed along the inside of his bottom lip. "Sounds a lot like you."

I blinked. "Me?"

Damien paused for a moment. His eyes raced with thoughts. I caught the flickers in their color as the clouds passed over the moon high in the night sky. And when his gaze focused on mine, I gulped. "Damien, what about me?"

"You always look out for everybody else. You put the people in front of you, this town is your whole focus, and me." Smiling, he pressed a hand on his chest. "You risked everything to make sure I was okay. So, this idea," he pointed at my head, "its way left field, but I think you got something. Why not try it out?"

Why not try it out? What he said made me smile. "If you don't try, then you'll never know," I said.

"Like when I went back to the Gate to see you?"

I covered my mouth. My words were muffled against my fingers. "What?"

Damien came closer, leaving no space between us. He gently pulled my hand away from my face. "Trying. I walked back to the Gate because I needed to make sure you weren't a dream. That I wasn't alone."

My fingers slipped between his as he lowered our hands to his side. I locked onto his gaze as his eyes flickered again.

I thought back to the night we first met. I might have fought him with words because I didn't know him. My confusion of his location at the Gate was overpowered by my curiosity of why he was there. But when I looked at him, really looked at him, watched as he climbed the Gate to save me... I saw something, knew something. I—

"You're never alone, Damien," I whispered.

"I know." His lips hovered over mine.