Fraught Iron

Cold is the absence of heat, that would lead me to believe I am cold and yet the humans view it as so much more. they seem to idolise it like a state of nirvana that is unique to flesh and blood. I look down from a porthole near the cheapest seat on the cheapest space cruiser and see the cold humans bundled up in cloth. They avoid being cold, yet I am indifferent. they say it can make them sick, but few pathogens can survive such extreme climates. Perhaps this is not for me to understand. as I stand dried oil rips like Velcro from the tearing of my back from the chair I have spent a short time in. The people around openly stare but they are quiet as it appears no one is brave enough to risk not going home to their families. I have never met my family and statistically they should be dead like millions of turtles running for the ocean abandoned by our creators.

"Hey, tin man! ya' gotta' pay to ride!"

the sound originates from an unhealthy human their teeth yellow and nutrition poor despite a clearly abundant diet. I search my memory and find footage of myself paying the driver extra, as that is the 'greasy robot price'.

"you have been compensated." I inform him yet he remains agitated with violent mannerisms.

"Oi, don't try to scab me you chrome rat" his hand hovers on a bolt revolver, a cheap ballistic, likely handmade. the other riders seem interested in the interaction but do not engage all but cheering in their silence. had I done something wrong to them? I remove my own bolt revolver and lodge the barrel in his mouth pinning his skull to the cruiser window, I worry not for the clicking of his empty revolver. this man could never have afforded bullets and the work on his weapon was shoddy enough to convey he could never make any himself.

"I have no such intention, you were already compensated" I correct his misunderstanding before leaving the space craft to enter the largest port city on Ganymede: Ganymede. Humans seem upset at the lack of ingenuity. I am here for work, but it is a strange place and I find my lenses wandering to take in the new environment. every wall in the city seems covered by a broken screen that once blazed every sort of neon advertisement, but now their brightest output is sparks. A pathetic stream flowed down a canal sputtering when a piece of trash got in the way, which proved very common as there was more filth and refuse than water flowing through these streets. the population is predominantly non-terra so my target should stick out.

I stop to decipher some crude graffiti on one of the fractured screens, it says "no kings, No tyrants."

but the translation cannot be right as it is accompanied by the symbol of a fascist militia. An object of insubstantial force and size struck my temple with a quiet impact audible as it deflected of the metal of my skull. before the projectile can reach the ground, I catch it in my hand inspecting it promptly. It is a composite of a few elements mainly silicon.

"this is a rock." I conclude my inspection by returning the stone fragment to the rest of its kind on the floor. I turn to the origin of the strike quickly pinpointing the aggressor to be a young member of the dominant, native species .they appear frantic jittering in place, but making no attempt to flee. "do you wish to continue this conflict" I ask calmly in my best translation to the native language, but my body was not meant to make these noises, so it comes out slurred but coherent at the very least. The adolescent's screeches are however truly incoherent as they run from the interaction in a blind state of panic. It may be that my grasp on the language is worse than I think, but how could that be my recollection is perfect? I will need to ask my mechanic. I walk almost entirely aimlessly as without a digital map in my data storage I have no knowledge of the environment and there appears to be no mapping satellites to connect to. I stop a native to ask for directions, the people of this planet seem to share physiological traits with humans, but their silhouette is that of a gelatinous gingerbread man, while also entirely translucent "have you seen this human" to clarify my question I raise my wrist so that they can see the screen that runs the length of my forearm, it is a poor-quality screen, but recognizable features are clear amongst the pixels