Cinder's Story: a Lunar Chronicles Fanfic

Chapter Twenty-Three: When the Echoes Die Out

Cinder returned home, enjoyed her stepmother's company for a while, and retired to her room. She was exhausted from the weight of the world on her shoulders- a weight that no one else could carry, since she was Earth's last hope for survival against queen Levana. If she died, the rest of the world died with her, and this kind of expectation could do a lot to one's energy levels.

Twenty minutes of an otherwise peaceful nap were interrupted by the ring of an outside doorbell. Cinder squeezed her pillow over her ears, hoping that someone else would answer it. Her stepmother, Echo, Morticibum- it didn't matter who it was.

Then it occurred to Cinder; Echo would be finishing up at the booth, Morticibum was dead, and her stepmother would be too busy plotting the ruination of the protagonist's life to care. She sighed, and rolled off the bed with a thud. Her machinery was slow to reactivate, but with time she managed to seize control of her most important functions.

Cinder stepped out of her bedroom, through the hallway, past the living room-

"I hate you!"

"Feeling's mutual!"

-to the entryway, and answered the door.

A man stood there, holding what looked like a pile of techno-scraps crushed into a tangle of parts.

"Pardon me," was his cordial greeting, "but is this your android?"

Cinder couldn't infer what he meant, until she took a closer look at the ripped silicon plating.

"...Echo? Is that you?"

There was no response from what was left of the android.

"It wound up in the trash compactor." The man explained. "I have no idea why; it's like leaving a perfectly intact automotive in a junkyard. Downright expensive equipment to throw away."

Cinder glared at her stepmother, who glared right back.

"Anywho," the man concluded, "I'm glad I found the right owner on my first try. Here you go!"

He dropped the pile into Cinder's arms, and left.

Devastated, Cinder carried what was left of her prized- if repetitive- android back to her room.

"I take back everything I said." Cinder repented. "I'm so sorry you wound up like this, Echo."

Something in her waited for Echo to respond- maybe with something like, "Echo", or "Echo, Echo", or maybe even, "Echo, Echo, Echo". No such luck; the only other friend she had ever cared about was toast. Toast with a pat of butter and a spread of jam. Toast with a cinnamon glaze. Pumpkin toast with a layer of cream-cheese icing and a mug of warm wassell.

A loud gurgle erupted from Cinder's stomach. She hung her head; this was hardly a time for eating a slightly pink steak, a souk-de-jour with caviar, or even a single taquito. No, now was not the time for any thoughts in relation to delicious food. Now was the time to grant her friend a final gift...

Cinder pulled out a cartridge from the mess- the bulk of Echo's A.I. and memory.

"I'm going to make you into a ship someday," Cinder promised, "just you wait and see!"