Other Side of Ten // Ninjago Echo Zane

Second Chance

Father used to play a game with him. Zane would watch the clock in the basement and wait until the hour hand reached ten. Then, he could emerge from hiding and join his father in the upper section of the light house.

They would talk and play chess. Zane did most of the talking. He spoke of the rats he met in the basement, or showed off his stacking sculptures he made out of spare parts. He always wanted to be an inventor like his father.

Most of the time, Father enjoyed his company. Most of the time. There were the occasional days his father seemed distant. He called those sand days.

"I'm going to walk outside by the sand." Father said.

"But what about The Leviathan?" Zane addressed.

"The Leviathan only makes sure I don't try to escape. It knows very well that I can't swim all the way to Ninjago."

"Then may I accompany you? You speak of the beach. I want to see it up close."

"I'm afraid not. The Leviathan and Samukai will punish me if they know you exist. I will be back."

Sand days.

Father always seemed to take an appreciation to the beach, and the experiences that went along with it. He described it as a breath of fresh air. Zane was denied to do such a thing, but hoped his father loved the sand.

Love was another thing strange to Father. Rarely did he throw that word around. Father loved inventing, sand, his home in Ninjago and Zane. Not him Zane- he learned his chosen name was coincidentally also the name of Father's first son. No, the Zane he was often referring to was his first son.

"You were created in his image." Father said. "And how ironic you chose his very name."

"What was he like, Father?" He said, wanting to know the code to Father's heart. There was nothing he loved more than his first son. Perhaps if he knew how to be just like him, then Father could love him just the same.

"My first son, Zane, was alive like you. But he had a power source beyond anything I could've given you in here." Father once said. "He could dream, eat, and drink. Most everything that I can do, he could do it better."

He couldn't eat. He could drink oil, but not water. Dreaming was just powering down, but there were no visions.

"Did he feel pain?"

"Yes, but not in the sense that you do."

That intrigued him. Father always explained that his sensation of physical pain was unusual. His body made of used parts and gears was so substandard, his joints kept failing. But his body wasn't originally made to house a soul. Yet somehow, he existed. Father compromised on his creation day and installed a switch that turned off all his pain so he could feel nothing.

"He could get hurt, but could control the intensity at which he detected the sensation."

"Could he switch off his pain like I can?"

"No. Pain is still important to feel. It helps deter from danger. But in your case it's all or nothing."

He never understood how father could say that. Pain was important? But that was the very thing he was trying to heal his father from. He was currently living life without it and was fine. Well, moderately fine. He found himself falling down the stairs all the time, running into walls and breaking his parts. But Father always fixed him.

Looking into his chest cavity, his gears still turned, even though rusted. His arms and legs were damaged, his joints loose and wobbly. He could use his father nowadays. But he was no longer here.