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Chapter 1: Meaningless Lives

  The sky hung heavy and gray above the wrecked research station, thick clouds swirling like ash from a distant fire, one that would become relevant soon enough, but not now. Vines and wild moss clung to the cracked walls of the facility, nature creeping in to claim what had been abandoned. Shattered windows glinted in the faint sunlight, and metal girders jutted from the building's collapsed roof like the exposed ribs of a long-dead beast. The air smelled faintly of rust and scorched earth.

  The hiss of metal joints softly resonated through the station as a tall humanoid robot with attire reminiscent of an adventurer made his way through the crumbling front courtyard. The robot had a brown cowboy hat perched atop his head and a slightly unbuttoned off-white shirt hanging loosely around his chest, revealing the top part of his metallic torso. The robot had opposed the hat. The robot had opposed the shirt. The robot had lost both arguments. Each step taken was deliberate, the robot’s sensors scanning the ruin and rubble for structural weaknesses, their hat tilted low over his smooth metallic face, shielding his optic from the harsh glare of sunlight filtering through the clouds. Despite the surrounding devastation, his posture remained calm and collected. Perhaps because robots couldn’t feel fear. Perhaps because he was a particularly brave robot.

  Behind him, a demon woman sauntered along with a far more casual gait. Long black hair clung to her face, damp with sweat from the humid air, her khaki bomber jacket flaring slightly with each step. Two horns jutted straight up from her forehead, crooked and scarred. She had definitely broken them more than once, and the tape wrapped around them only served to prove that. The woman adjusted her round black sunglasses and flicked a purple hand dismissively at the ruins, all three of her bludgeoning yellow eyes squinting as she admired the decor.

  "Looks cozy," she said dryly, kicking aside a broken femur, "Bet the cafeteria here had killer lunch specials."

  "Focus, Rhaene," Said the robot, his tone level. "We're here for salvage, not commentary. Unless you’d like to not be paid?"

  "I am focusing," The woman, now dubbed Rhaene, shot back, grinning. "On how depressing this place is. Seriously, how does a research station end up looking like somewhere you’d go on a bad date?"

  The robot didn't miss a beat in responding to Rhaene, "Your bad dates involve structural collapse and hazardous materials?"

  "Only when I’m forced to pay." She snorted. "Though honestly, this place is kinda my vibe. Rust, rubble, and probably a few skeletons. All it needs is a karaoke machine, you wouldn’t happen to have one tied into that metal chassis of yours, would ya Arbor?"

  The robot, designated as “Arbor”, ignored the woman’s teasing and continued on with the tasks at hand. He would be having mind-numbing conversations like this all the way back home. It was best he conserved his energy for now. Arbor continued along his slow path, eventually stopping and crouching down near a pile of debris, something interesting was inside. Brushing aside shards of glass and twisted metal, Arbor excavated a scorched datapad, its screen cracked but intact. It was like finding a huge chunk of gold in a river. There was bound to be so much info on one of these.

  “The stars may be in our favor, Rhaene.”

  The datapad’s screen remained stubbornly black, no matter how long Arbor tried to turn it on.

  The stars were not in their favor.

  "Dead," he muttered.

  Rhaene peered over Arbor’s head, her long inky black hair brushing against the brim of his cowboy hat, her chin digging into the robot’s head with the full force of her burly body. Rhaene might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but she was most definitely the toughest.

  "Maybe it just needs a little… persuasion."

  "Please do not try to think of solutions. Thinking isn't exactly your strong suit," Arbor said, standing up, brushing Rhaene to the side, and pocketing the datapad. "I’ll try to charge it when we’re home.”

  "Fine, killjoy," Rhaene grumbled. "But if that doesn’t work, we’re back to my plan!"

  “I highly doubt I’ll fail,” Arbor sighed as if speaking with a child. “But if I do? Be my guest.”

  Arbor continued to move deeper into the facility with Rhaene tagging behind, the air grew colder as they passed shattered labs and scorched observation rooms. The walls were blackened with soot, and strange, claw-like marks marred the surfaces. Arbor was not programmed to feel unease, but he could derive that unease was the emotion any regular individual should feel in this situation.

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  "Looks like something big went through here," Rhaene observed, tracing one of the gouges with her fingertips, seemingly unbothered by the wreckage. "Think they were researching giant murder lizards or something?"

  "Speculation is pointless without evidence," Arbor replied. "But whatever caused this wasn't gentle."

  Rhaene grinned. "Perfect. I like 'em rough."

  Arbor had to pause his movement and straighten out his posture, turning his head to Rhaene, all to shoot her a flat look, the only look he could shoot anyone on account of the faceplate, but the message was sent. If only Rhaene could read.

  "I will be removing that from my memory banks."

  "Oh, you’re no fun tinman."

  The duo slowly entered what remained of the central atrium. The ceiling had partially collapsed, letting in shafts of light that illuminated the ruin. Broken equipment lay scattered across the floor, and thick vines coiled around toppled pillars. In the center of the room, a large console flickered weakly, its screen covered in cracks.

  “How long has this place been abandoned?” Rhaene questioned. Now, Rhaene wasn’t a plantologist, but something told her that vines weren’t supposed to grow super fast.

  “According to the contract? We’re not supposed to know that,” Arbor answered, uninterested with what Rhaene had to say. The robot was more interested in the console.

  Arbor strided towards it and immediately got to work, his fingers deftly tapping the controls, trying to use whatever know-how he had to get some good info out of this. And good info he did get. With a few remaining clicks and beeps, the screen lit up once more and changed to a fragmented map of the facility. The screen was clearly damaged and the visuals kept going out, but what else did they have?

  "There's a basement level," he noted. "It might still be intact."

  "Oooh, secret basement." Rhaene's eyes gleamed. "Bet that's where they kept the good stuff. Mad scientist lairs, forbidden experiments, maybe even a coffee machine that doesn't taste like shit. We could use that last one."

  "Or. It contains the source of whatever caused this mess," Arbor said.

  "Either way, I’m in." She clapped him on the back, her strength making a resounding boom against Arbor’s metal frame. "Lead the way, fearless leader."

  They followed the map through a narrow corridor, stepping over fallen beams and shattered glass. The air grew heavier, thick with the scent of decay and something faintly metallic.

  The duo reached a large steel door at the far end of the hall, or what was left of it. The door had been blasted off its hinges, and beyond it was a staircase leading down into darkness. Or at least it would’ve been, when this station was fully intact.

  Except the way was completely blocked by a massive pile of rubble. Concrete slabs, twisted rebar, and jagged debris formed an impenetrable wall.

  Rhaene let out a low whistle. "Guessing that's not up to code."

  Arbor scanned the rubble. Then he scanned it again, because Rhaene had a habit of ignoring his scans. And also because scanning was 90% of his job. The other 10% was ensuring Rhaene did not mess anything up. "It's unstable. We can't blast through without risking a collapse."

  "Well, there goes any chance I get to do anything fun this time around," Rhaene muttered. "So what's the plan? Dig through the debris with the power of optimism and a positive mindset?"

  "We’ll clear it manually," Arbor said calmly.

  Rhaene raised an eyebrow. "You planning on making me bench-press a building? 'Cause I may be a bit underqualified for that."

  "I'll stabilize the structure first," Arbor clarified. "Then you can move the debris safely."

  "Sounds boring." Rhaene rolled her shoulders. "But… not like there’s anything better to do.”

  Rhaene vaguely gestured towards the rubble and wreckage of the research center around them.

  "Appreciated," Arbor said dryly.

  As Arbor began assessing the rubble, grabbing metal from the surroundings and propping them together, Rhaene leaned against a nearby wall, waiting for Arbor to give her the go-ahead to start blasting. Her three eyes scanned the shadows. Two on one side and one on the other, like its been since she was born. Despite her flippant attitude, she was on edge. Something about this place felt wrong, like the air itself was holding a secret.

  "Hey, Arbor," she said quietly.

  "Hm?"

  "You think this place went to hell because of an experiment gone wrong?"

  "It's possible," Arbor admitted. "But until we find evidence, we can't be certain."

  Rhaene's lips curled into a smirk. "You and your reliance on evidence. Sometimes I think you’d function better as a filing cabinet."

  "And yet you keep working with me," Arbor said without looking up, heating up two bars in his palms and welding them together to prop up a particularly dangerous zone of rock.

  "Must be your charming personality."

  Arbor's mechanical fingers paused briefly. "Or your lack of other friends."

  Rhaene laughed, the sound echoing through the ruined hall. "Touché, tinman. Touché."

  As the echoes faded, they returned to their tasks, one calm and methodical, the other sharp and observant. They weren’t outright about it, but they were both weighing wether unblocking this basement was worth it.

  If the duo had decided that the basement was not worth the effort to dig into. If they had voiced their opinions or even showed a small tinge of apprehension for their decisions, they would’ve turned back. And both of them would’ve lived particularly eventful, yet, in the end, utterly meaningless lives.

  But, for one reason or another, both of them remained silent as they performed their jobs, clearing away the rubble ahead of them. Opening up a new path.

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