Of What Was Left Behind (ONC 2024)

01 - Encounter

The camera piece lay on the misty undergrowth, passing the time by watching the plants and animals within its field of view. Awkwardly placed, half tilting upwards on the roots of a young tree, it faced the sky, while the other half was surrounded by the greenery growing peacefully around its rigid, brittle plastic exterior.

Though it deleted much of its memory, it kept the core ones. Through comparison, it recognized how the place around it had changed. The corner of the room in its core memory contrasted starkly with the plant-covered haven, growing into the light streaming from the cables and metal scaffolding which was once a roof. Bits of metal protruded from the undergrowth - perhaps they were pipes though it had limited knowledge of any human constructs beyond surveillance and basic self-maintenance.

There was a flash of brown in the corner of its vision, followed by some scurrying sounds. It was a miracle that its microphone function still worked. How long exactly had it been without routine maintenance?

It dug through its database, matching the change in lighting to the day-night cycle and the changes in temperature to seasonal patterns. It reached out to the servers that held the majority of its memory, transmitting the passcode through the network of cables.

[Error. Servers not found.]

The program halted, and without finding an alternative, it resumed its primary functions of surveillance and protection, despite the challenge of being disconnected from the defence and alarm systems.

It focused on the blue sky, noting the light wisp of cloud streaking across it. Something matched within its core memories, and it pulled out a classification.

It was a cirrus cloud.

Time continued in this manner, with the camera patiently observing its surroundings. It would occasionally ponder, a remnant of its programming, before resigning to the silence from the external servers. Thus, it observed as the sky's colour transitioned from blue to yellow, then to dark orange streaked with pink, before nightfall, when it switched to night vision.

There were times when the undergrowth would rustle, making the grass sway beneath a cold sigh. Other times, some curious, beady eyes would emerge from the darkness. A small, furred body would follow and the animal - a mouse - would sniff around, stopping at its peculiar, boxed form before scrabbling over its lens and scurrying away to its next destination, whatever that would be.

The sky began to lighten once more, and the camera found itself slowly falling into its low-energy state, taking notice only on the important details of when it was fully daytime and when something entered its immediate proximity. That was the first alert of systemic abnormality. It realised that, with the small animals scuttling over its form, one of them dragged a piece of greenery, covering much of its solar panels. That was what explained the slight green shape at the edge of its vision - a leaf. As the days passed, less and less energy was available for use as it used up more than it replenished. It fell deeper into its power saving mode, becoming alert only when something entered its proximity.

Then, there was darkness.

The next moment it was daytime, though the lighting almost suggested otherwise. Then, daylight returned, though obscured by dark, lumpy clouds. The water droplets streaking past its lens distorted its vision. The previously covering greenery was no longer in its field of view. It switched its focus to the growing puddles pooling into random patterns.

The camera could hear the muffled sound of pattering rain as it showered all over its form.

Then, the sounds tapered off to light, intermittent plips as droplets slid down leaves and broken cables. Insects emerged from nowhere, buzzing around the water puddles and slowly, sunlight streamed into the derelict building.

The camera resumed its silent observation when sudden flapping fluttering sounds came from above, followed by a harsh and almost comical squark. Something rustled in the moderate undergrowth, and a blue-streaked beak emerged. The bird was small, with soft, downy feathers covering its awkward form. It waddled towards the squawking above before stopping, staring right at the lens with stark, blue eyes. The bird tilted its head before opening its beak and trilling a soft, melodic tune. Then, it poked the camera.

This interaction sparked a change in the program, prompting it to consume its limited battery for an unexpected action.

Somehow, by some coincidence, the camera recalled a memory and for once in a very long time, the sound of a human voice would blend with nature's chorus once more.