Tree has been feeling like he's got termites gnawing at his very soul.
He could still remember that fateful day like it was yesterday; the day they put their death prevention duty above all else and saved someone's life at the cost of essentially ending one of theirs. He kept telling himself that it was ultimately the right thing to do. The life of a single person is orders of magnitude far, *far* more significant than the life of some funny plant, no matter how rare or endangered it was. But every single second he'd had to wait since then, every single second Two spent idling around and doing whatever it was that algebralians did instead of hosting shows, the longer that lingering thought kept poking and prodding at him, threatening to tip him over completely. Just how important was death prevention *really*? It seemed like an unthinkable thought all those days ago, but as he watched all his fellow Death P.A.C.T.ers continuing to help save lives left and right, knowing that one of their long and esteemed careers could get cut short at any moment, he could start doubting a lot of things. A lot of things that, until then, seemed like they were set in stone.
That was a little while ago, now; all that was left in this particular stretch of grassland was him and Remote. All the other members had either continued on their death prevention escapades, inevitably taking them far beyond where his eyes could see, or had reckoned everyone was tired out for the day and chose to goof off instead. He tried not to think about the latter case; who could blame them? After all, he was ultimately on the same boat. That same sinking ship. He tried his hardest to excuse his inaction today, saying that he was drafting their latest grand strategy for death prevention, that it needed every single bit of energy that came from sunlight to focus, hence why he stood still.
But deep down, deep in his roots, he knew the real reason.
Tree sighed and anxiously looked around, making sure nobody was there to eavesdrop; he then turned to the mechanical mind, also sitting perfectly still like he was. "...Remote?" He'd ask. "Wha." Odds were highly likely that the living plant had caught her in the middle of one of her calculations. Or playing one of her digital games. You never could tell for certain. "You wanna talk?" Tree asked. "Just talk about..." He'd sit on that last word for a while; he didn't know how anyone would react to what he had in mind. "Stuff?" "I am sure that your master plan for our future is as logically sound and comprehensive as you could make it." Remote remarked. "I have full confidence in your planning ability, though I do suggest you ask for second opinions prior to carrying it out." Tree was stunned. "You... remember me saying that?" "Of course." The one that controlled the television replied. "I have a near-perfect eidetic memory; my eyes and ears have captured the last 2 months, 7 days, 6 hours, and 3 minutes of my life, and so I can recall every single detail that I witnessed. I also have textual descriptions of the remainder of my life prior to that point, which I can read out to you as a reference."
"You can..." Tree thought about it for a second. "Didn't know you could do that. That wasn't part of my plan." "You never asked." Remote replied. "Well, of course not." Tree shrugged. "I mean, where would I even *begin*? How can I make that... not awkward?" Awkward silence then followed. "What are your specs, Remote?" "Well." The machine then proceeded to repeat a long list of technical specifications verbatim, consisting of all sorts of jargon and language that had been forgotten to Goikians for over 2,763 years. The whole thing just glazed right by Tree, who just took mental notes wherever he could.
He'd blink. "Okay, I'll admit..." He'd blink again. "Most of that was just complete nonsense to me." "Completely understandable." Remote responded. "I know you are not one of the technical sort; it is more than enough to say that I am pretty capable." She'd blink once as well. "Though I do have to say that would make it pretty awkward that I listed all of that mostly for nothing." "...Right." Tree sighed. "Speaking *of* awkward..." He'd twiddle his thumbs for a little bit. "You mind keeping a secret?" "Of course not." Remote answered. "Nobody will be able to get me to reveal what I do not want to tell; my comprehensive encryption system will also ensure they cannot take it out of my memory." "Uhuh." The big plant nodded. "Good to know." He'd remain silent for just that tiny bit longer, giving him time to dispel any doubts; this *had* to come out eventually. He was their de facto team leader. What would they think if they found out that *he* had concerns about this whole death prevention thing?
