Of What Was Left Behind (ONC 2024)

06 - Loss

Sunlight pulled the camera from the darkness. Sound started first - that of chirping along with a faint buzz in the air as insects began to stir. Vision sluggishly flickered on and the machine immediately took note of its surroundings. Its program whirred, alertly combing through the visual data for anything abnormal.

Yet, despite its efforts, there was nothing but this feeling, the feeling that there was something different about its surroundings, a change. The sensation pushed at the program, insisting that something was different, but it only saw the same sights. It saw the grass that surrounded its field of view. It even saw some insects crawling on the dirt, the small black ants moving in curving, irregular lines.

It was all ordinary and routine.

There was a brief glimpse of a grey four-toed foot, tipped with blunt claws. It would pause for a second before moving closer, revealing a long thin lower leg of a bird- a juvenile. Suddenly, a loud rustle redirected the camera skyward.

That sensation of change, of difference receded. Part of its vision saw the sky adorned with white clouds meandering lazily. It could also see something else, a ruined landscape of crumbling buildings covered in tendrils of ivy and grass visible beyond the similarly plant-covered brick walls. There was also, at the edge of its vision, an image of brown, where sections of bark curled at the edges.

The juvenile hopped from side to side. It stopped, nudging its head against the lens. At that, another juvenile flew down, nudging the other juvenile. They then looked back at the camera for a second, staring at the strange, symmetrical device before hopping away.

At that, that something stirred, reaching towards a feeling.

The day continued, the birds for the most part, absent from view. In its place, other things scuttled and moved. Small creatures peeked from the grass, and lizards darted past. At times, an insect would sit on the lens, obscuring the view. As dusk approached, the dwindling sunlight prompted the camera to conserve energy, a routine disrupted only by the arrival of a familiar presence.

As the camera turned on its vision, it saw with clarity, the four birds standing in a row. For that one second, they shuffled closer before stopping in mid step. It was then when the parent walked forwards, carrying a small, black flight feather in its beak. It dropped the feather, leaving it to spin quickly before falling out of few. Another second later, the family flew away, leaving the camera to stare at the still grass standing strong in the silence.

That sensation moved, reaching out towards something different. It was strange, an overload of bright and light threatening to explode its circuits. Then, there was a compulsion, much like the ones fuelling its self-preserving actions but somehow different. It was less structured and equally mysterious, less of something confined to rigid lines of logic, and more like an organic network, moving irregularly from one pocket of information to another.

It was a feeling, not quite an emotion but not quite a command. It was reactionary and closely linked to that stirring sensation hidden until recently.

Curiosity.

It wondered, yearning for information, yearning to know where exactly the third juvenile bird was.

...

The cat extended its paws forward and tilted its head down, stretching its spine gracefully. With silent, cautious steps, it navigated over moss-covered debris of brick and concrete. Mice and other small creatures stirred the undergrowth, yet the cat pressed on, drawn by a distinct scent.

In its jaws, the cat held a prize and so, every now and then, it would stop its journey. It surveyed its surroundings, tail held high, the tip twitching from side to side. Its ears swivelled, picking up sounds, some concerning and others not worth noting. It then moved cautiously, slinking underneath collapsed arches of structure.

As it neared its destination, the cat grew more vigilant. It paused more frequently, assessing its environment before leaping towards a ground opening encased in the decaying timber framework of a house. The cat deftly descended the concrete steps, its ears alert to soft mews. Tiny beams of light reflected off the eyes of its grey kittens, huddled around their mother. They chirped eagerly at the sight of the feathered bounty in her mouth. She released it, curling around herself, listening as her offspring began to eat.

Food had become scarce lately, forcing the mother to venture further afield to sustain her young. At times, it would find the occasional mouse, but even those were getting rarer, and sicker. She was fortunate to have found this bird—a young one, inexperienced with flight. It had yelped at her when she pounced. There was a brief struggle as the bird tried to escape, and as its parents screamed and attempted to dive at her already fleeing form.

In that distance, she had noticed more wild life, more food for her to feed her young. So perhaps, once her children were ready to move, they could flee from this dying place.