We Dream In Ones and Zeros: An Anthology

A New Raison d'Être

PROMPT: Write a story set in outer space.

CW(s): implied violence, self-termination (of a robot), death and grief.

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The moment the cord connected to the port on Avis' neck, the ship's interface came up, graphics and several status reports displayed across his scanners.

"Hello, HAE," Avis greeted in a monotone voice. A useless gesture, but also a habit he couldn't seem to break.

"Hello." There was a slight pause as the ship's A.I. dived deep into his database, fishing for an ID through their connection. "Unit R9-SE133. Please state your directive."

"Is the secondary Bridge operational?" Avis asked, ignoring the A.I.'s request.

"It has suffered some damage, but remains intact and holds enough power for one fast travel, if that is your intent. Please state your directive."

Avis leaned back and turned his gaze upwards, the back of his head hitting the seat behind him with a dull clank. Through the monitor above, he saw it. His Creators' planet, once lush green and deep blue, now turned into one big wasteland, all dry skin and open wounds, bleeding out and crying without tears.

"R9-SE133," the AI called after a whole minute of silence, "please state your directive. I have located several unidentified ships on the planet's atmosphere."

"HAE, play the last video messages stored on my memory... please."

A couple of seconds passed by, where the A.I. remained unresponsive, not even a hint of processing or poking around for data in Avis artificial brain.

But then he felt it, a slight shock, more like a tingle than anything else, and a spike in activity as his processors began to heat up. Suddenly, a screen was projected in front of him. A video began to play, the recording showing a single man, with skin as dark as the void of outer space and a smile as brilliant as the sun, sitting in the middle of a comms room.

Avis leaned forward, the two glowing orbs on his face shifting from electric blue to a soft pink.

"Atlas," he whispered, mechanical fingers reaching for the face on the screen.

"Hey, buddy," the man in the screen greeted, waving his hand, "How's my favorite copilot doing? And how's the exploration mission going? Hope they're not being too rough on you. Like, telling you to dive into a volcano or something." He chuckled, but it sounded strained. "I know you can handle it, what with the whole super advanced mechanical body and all, but..."

The young man looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, a shy smile twisting his lips.

"Anyway, not to brag or anything, but my mission is going pretty well. Those machines don't stand a chance against the Garrison's ace pilot," Atlas winked at the camera and struck a small pose, only to chuckle awkwardly and relax back into his chair. "If we keep this up, we might even be back early. It's kind of boring without you around..."

The smile faded and his gaze fell to his lap, a hand rising to brush over his bald scalp. "Well, anyway, hope you're doing okay. Call you soon."

The recording ended, the screen going black. Avis sent a silent command to HAE, and the next video began to play. Same Atlas, same white room.

"Hey, buddy. I was just wondering. When's your birthday? And yeah, I know you weren't born exactly. But you did, like, come into existence at some point, right? I couldn't find a date anywhere so I was hoping you would know, maybe?" The man gave a sheepish smile, fingers lightly tugging at his one gold loop earring. "If you're not sure, then maybe we can just come up with one. It's just... it's weird that we celebrate mine, but I don't celebrate yours. I wanna throw you a big party when I come back. What do you say, Avis?"