Sketches In The Dust

a new way forward

When entering Moon's chambers Pipsqueak's padded, cautious stride turned scampering and rambunctious in nature. He knew himself safe in the overgrown ruins that made up his mentor's body.
So, as usual, Moon heard her friend long before she saw him.
His arrival was heralded by a scurrying pitter-patter of small feet on metal and a loud splash as he dove head-first into the waters.

Finally he hopped on the shore proper and barreled towards Moon, eyes like black pools of restless energy. The young creature paced around her as if checking for wounds as hus fur bristled with unspoken worry; then he pressed both his paws on her knee.

Moon beamed tenderly at him and reached out to smoothe down the stiff hairs on his neck. 

"I am alright, little brother," she said warmly. "Sit. We have much to discuss."

Pip stepped back and perched on his tiptoes. Moon briefly tilted her face to the ceiling and let the damp breeze whistle past her. The taste of salt tickled her lungs as she inhaled before clearing her throat.

"Before explaining why I have summoned you here, I believe an apology is in order." Preemptively she raised her hand to shush his perplexed outburst.

"You have known me as a kindly and caring figure in my decadence, but it has not always been so. At the height of my power, when our creators abandoned us all, I worked tirelessly at the Great Problem and encouraged my fellow iterators to do the same. I consumed oceans of water for this futile task, I have contributed to this terrible rain that plagues you and all living things. For that, I am sorry." A brief pause.

"And that, sadly, is not the worst of it. My greatest sin, the greatest sin of my kind, has not been our selfish hoarding of water nor the creation of rain. After all, we cannot fully help it if not by dying, and we cannot commit suicide by design. The greatest regret I bear is to have been indifferent to the suffering of other creatures. I never spared a thought for the families that would be swept up by the floods I caused, I never wondered how other creatures would fare in this ruined world, I never considered that we iterators were far from the only ones that had been left behind. I believed myself divine in intelligence and might, and was nothing but a blind and cruel fool. I-" her voice faltered.

She shut her eyes, breathed. The cool metal of her knuckles dug in the synthetic skin of her puppet's forehead.

"I am so sorry, Pipsqueak. When I had the chance to change things and help other lost beings, I didn't. Now that I finally have the desire and understanding to do so, I am but a rusted piece of sentient rubble. My whole species should grovel at the feet of all we have failed. We could have guided you, we could have taught you how to restore the world, and we left you to rot."

Hot shame rose in the iterator's throat; for the first time since Pipsqueak had come scampering into her chambers, she could not meet his eyes.

"I will not ask for your forgiveness; I have no right to ask anything of you. Howev-ev-ev-ev"

A fluffy projectile of flesh and muscle slammed into Moon's chest with the force of a jackhammer.
When she came back to her senses Pipsqueak's head was buried in her shoulder as he tackled her in a rib-crushing hug.

"Moon made mistakes. Mistakes that hurt many people." the slugcat's voice was muffled.

"Pipsqueak already knew. Pipsqueak will not forgive Moon, for now. But-" the little creature raised his head and looked straight into Moon's eyes, serious as a judge.

"Pip loves Moon. Moon ack-ack-" he stuttered. It had been the longest speech he'd probably ever uttered in this foreign language.
Discreetly, she offered him a tablet and a sharp piece of debris. He shook his head.