A reluctant rescue

It's been a few hours since you saw the faraway airborne explosions die down, and that one enormous skibidi toilet and those two enormous mechanoids fly away. About time. You were starting to run out of snacks.

Surely, after a battle like that, there'll be plenty of skibidi scrap for you to harvest, maybe pieces of mechanoids too. You'd waited a bit longer, watching with your binoculars and listening for sounds (other than the sound of you crunching and munching your snacks), until you were sure all partipants had left the battlefield. Time to drive the Hubnester Inferno over and see what you can find.

The Hubnester Inferno is your main vehicle in your post-apocalyptic life. It was once an ice cream van - you'd needed to use an electric vehicle as the base. A petrol vehicle would have been an unwise choice, because petrol degrades after 2 years, and then where would you find fuel? Biodiesel was another option, but electricity was so much easier. You can potentially generate electricity out of almost anything - running water, steam, yourself running on a treadmill.

You'd gutted the insides and turned the Hubnester into a mobile workshop containing most of your tools. You'd kept the ice cream jingle, of course. Driving a tricked-out ice cream van playing its cheerful jingle through a ruined apocalyptic landscape was just funny. (And god knows you have to find humour where you can in this new harrowing existence.)

You park the Hubnester nearby, then open the back doors to wheel out your pedal-bike and its cargo wagon containing your field tools. (You hadn't got round to building a proper ramp for the Hubnester, only grabbed a pedestrian hole-cover from some roadworks to use as a makeshift one. You normally have to take all the tools out of the wagon first, haul the wagon down, then re-load it.)

You check all your armour is in place, then fetch your weapons from the Hubnester: an atlatl and some darts to go in it, a slingshot for throwing stones or other crap you found on the floor, and your 'bluff gun'. It was originally a stun gun you'd pulled off a dead mechanoid. It had no charge left, and you hadn't worked out how to re-charge it, but waving it around normally fools most skibidis you encounter. You'd also added to it some pieces from a small 'manipulator' skibidi, after noticing that those types were capable of hijacking the mechanoids and compelling them to fight their own side. You had no idea how to re-activate those parts either, but brandishing it seems to make most mechanoids wary of you. Plus you'd welded a blade to the gun to act as a bayonet, because why not? The finishing touch: a jawbone tied to the gunstock, pulled from the first skibidi you'd ever killed.

In your arsenal are also a few paint spray cans. Not a weapon, but useful for marking areas you've already been and hazards you've spotted. You use them to leave messages for other human survivors too. Not that you've ever had a reply, but you live in hope.

Several mechanoid corpses and pieces of various skibidi armour and detritus litter the ground. Good. You've come to hate both sides in this conflict for tearing your world apart. The skibidis seem worse than the mechanoids, but you're not fond of them either. They're less outright scary than skibidis, but they're still pretty creepy.

You pause to dismount from your bike, and stomp on the windpipe of a dead skibidi and laugh at the squelching sound that results.

"Hahaa, dead toilet bastard," you remark. You keep pressing your foot down until you feel its cricoid cartilage crack. It's fun like popping bubble wrap. "Loser!" you say, as you place your hand with extended thumb and forefinger to your forehead in an L-shape. You add your other hand, mirroring the gesture, forming a W. "Wanker!"

You cycle around the battlefield, looking for pieces you want to pick up and add to your wagon. Oh, there's a decapitated large speaker-mechanoid here. You almost feel sorry for the poor fucker. You make a mental note to bring the Hubnester over here later so you can dissect it properly - the little tools in your wagon won't make much of a dent in it. You continue your patrol.

Ohh, this felled camera-mechanoid has a surprisingly pristine head. That'll surely yield a useful harvest! Some nice clean lenses, hopefully. If nothing else, you can always take its nice brown trenchcoat for yourself.

In fact, this 'noid is so freshly-killed that it's still twitching slightly… it must have a fresh enough battery that it's still discharging. Jackpot, maybe - you've not had the chance to experiment with mechanoid batteries yet.

You approach on foot to assess whether you can realistically harvest any parts from it. You hope its various lubricants and coolants haven't congealed into uselessness yet - those are useful when fresh for refining into adhesives and explosives. The 'noid's body seems pinned under a metal structure - some sort of gantry or radio mast, probably. That might make it harder to get parts.

Is it twitching a little more animatedly at your approach? …Hmm, maybe the electronics are interacting with your own organic electric field somehow, or with the equipment you carry? Surely not; that sounds implausible?

The mechanoid raises its arm…

"Shit a brick!" you exclaim. It's still alive! Well, it was never alive, but - ah hell, you know what you meant. It's still active, then. You stop dead mid-step at the realisation, then plant your raised foot back down. You heft a dart into your atlatl, just in case.

You notice a diode flickering on the mechanoid's head; the one that normally lights up when (you presume) they record or broadcast something. This 'noid is probably frantically trying to signal its faction for help but can't. Well, time to put it out of its misery.

You prepare to sling your atlatl. The 'noid flinches in terror and holds up its hands in a feeble barrier against your oncoming attack. 'What are you waiting for?' says the part of your brain that thinks horrible things.

Ah shit, you can't attack it now. Not when it didn't start anything. Not when it's afraid of you. Not when it didn't do anything to you, and you only wanted to harvest it for parts. No. You can't do that to something displaying this level of sentience and human-like emotion. What were you becoming? You pull out the dart from the atlatl and throw both to the ground.

"I'm sorry," you hear someone saying, and realise it's you.

The mechanoid cautiously looks out at you from between its fingers.

You realise how this must look to the mechanoid. You're essentially a skibidi-headed entity, resplendent in cobbled-together armour fashioned from what is unmistakably parts and plating from downed 'noids, and you approached wielding an atlatl and carrying a quiver bristling with darts, and with a gun at your hip containing a manipulator skibidi's mind-control rod. You even aimed a dart at the 'noid. And now you're apparently… trying to make friends? You'd be confused and frightened too. Hell, you're kinda confused and frightened right now, and you're not even on the receiving end.

You make a show of setting the rest of your weapons down on the ground, and removing your helm (made from a paintball mask as a base, with various ornamentation harvested from mechanoid and skibidi plating soldered on to look bristling and intimidating). You take a few steps closer, then kneel down, hoping it comes across that you're trying to make yourself as non-threatening as possible.

The 'noid stares at you intently the whole time you're doing this. Well, as far as you can tell. It keeps its 'face' pointing towards you, and through the glass of its head-casing you can see the focusing ring of its lens turning to keep you in focus. It curls its hands into fists - if you're here to kill it, it's going to use what little energy it has left to make it as hard for you as possible. (You have noticed that while the camera-mechanoids seem the most timid of all the 'noid types, they're also very brave when cornered.)

You sit and think for a little while longer, neither of you looking away from the other. You make a decision.

You lie down on your side, mirroring the 'noid. There. Can't really get more non-threatening than that. You re-sit briefly to scoot a bit closer, making sure to still keep out of arm's reach, then lie back down. "You'd better not be ambush-bait," you warn, "or I'm taking you with me."

The 'noid says nothing. Can it even talk? You've never heard the camera-headed ones vocalising. It flexes its fists.

"Can you comprehend my speech?" you ask.

The 'noid gestures with its hands. You don't comprehend; it doesn't match any human sign languages you know (well, one sign looks slightly like the BSL sign for 'dog', but that's probably not what it's saying).

"No idea what you're banging on about, I'm afraid. You got any idea what I'm banging on about?"

The 'noid fixes you with its stare for a few seconds longer, then cautiously gives you a thumbs-up.

"Oh! I hope that's an affirmative gesture."

The mechanoid nods. You hope that means yes too.

"One more question, so I can be sure you actually are understanding me and not making random signs at me… Are you… a wanker tied to a tree?"

The 'noid can't actually make facial expressions, but you feel as though it's regarding you with wary disdain. It gives a thumbs-down.

"Aargh! Wanker on the loose!" You say, then literally roll on the ground laughing at your stupid joke.

The mechanoid appears to be losing the will to live.

"Right then," you say once you've recovered, "We've established communication. I can understand thumbs-up and thumbs-down, and you seem to be able to understand bullshit."

The mechanoid cautiously nods again.

"First things first," you continue, "I'm not with the skibidis. I just happen to look like one. Well, a much better-looking version of one, anyhow. I'm a human."

The mechanoid nods and gives another thumbs-up. You guess it does know what humans are.

"And… I realise this sounds contradictory, considering what I'm wearing and what I'm carrying… but I'm not actually setting out to harm your kind. I don't like you mechanoids, but I have a policy of not attacking first, and I've only harvested my armour parts from mechanoids that I found dead… I call you 'mechanoids' because I don't know what else to call you. I don't know what you call yourselves. Whatever you are, I've never killed anyone from your side just to harvest them, and I'm truly sorry I almost did it just now."

The 'noid gives a thumbs-up with one hand to confirm understanding, but it drums the fingers of its other hand on the ground. 'Get on with it.'

"…Do you like being stuck under that mess?"

The 'noid shakes its head 'no' and gives an emphatic thumbs-down.

"I'll get you out from under there and transport you to somewhere near one of your outposts. I'm not going to go right up to the outpost for my safety, but I'll put you down somewhere they're bound to find you. And in return, you won't attack me. Do you accept this proposal?"

The mechanoid nods, and reaches out its hand towards you - they're trying to initiate a handshake, you think. Dare you accept? You haven't trusted the mechanoids up until now - are you ready to start now? …Yes. You move forward and the two of you shake hands as best you're able, given your awkward position.

You stand. "I'll try to get you out by cutting through the metal. Of this gantry-thingy, I mean, not you. If I can't, I'll dig you out. I'll get you out somehow. If I really can't, I'll see if I can find some more of your kind and kite them over here. I'll get it done somehow, don't you worry."

You move around to the back of the 'noid. "I'm inspecting what we've got going on, so I know what tools I'll need. Your severed wires are still sparking; I'll have to insulate those for my own protection. Tell you what - I'll do that first, then you won't lose any more power from your wires pointlessly sparking. Then I'm going to bring my van over here; it's got all my tools in it."

You move back in front of the 'noid to check it understood all that, to which it gives a thumbs-up. Does it look a bit happier somehow?

You return to your wagon, containing your most frequently-used field tools. You've a bucket of gardening tools for harvesting any plants you want to take back to your little base, and a sturdy case of fine tools for working with electronics. Anything in between those two extremes of precision gets to scull around in a duffel bag.

You approach the felled 'noid with a trowel, a roll of insulating tape, and a soft brush. "I'm going to heap some soil over your wires for now, so they're less likely to shock me," you explain, "Then I'll pull them back out of the ground one at a time, clean them and wrap them with insulating tape. I realise that's probably not very comfortable for you, but it's all I can really do for now."

Maybe the 'noid would be more comfortable if you took its coat off and folded it up to form a temporary pillow? You're not confident you could take its coat off without hurting the 'noid further (or ruining the coat). You scurry back to your wagon and bring out a kneeling mat from the gardening bucket, and offer to slide it under the 'noid's head. It doesn't seem interested. Mechanoids don't have neck muscles, you reason, so it probably makes no difference to them whether they use a pillow or not. You'll use the kneeling pad yourself as you work.

You get to work doing what you said you would: heaping the dusty soil over the sparking wires, then systematically pulling them out of the insulating soil one at a time, brushing them clean of dust then wrapping them in electrical tape. (You didn't need to bring scissors, it's the type that you can rip.) There.

"I realise you're still trapped, but I hope you're a tiny bit more comfortable now."

The mechanoid seems pathetically grateful.

"I'll have to bring back some metal saws or my thermal lance or something. I don't carry those around in my bike; I'll have to get them from my van. I'll go back to it and then drive it over here."

You kneel down next to the 'noid and pat its hand. "I will be back."

You get an idea. "Here," you hand over your decoy stun-gun. "It's non-functional, but hopefully if any skibidis come along while I'm gone, they won't know that. Don't worry about the skibidi bit; I don't think it's actually got any juice in it. I don't suppose you can use an atlatl or a slingshot in that position, but I'll leave you some of the darts, and I'll leave my toolbag here too. Hopefully that'll give you some stuff to fling if you need to." The toolbag also serves as collateral showing that you intend to return, you hope.

You cycle back to the Hubnester, and re-load the bike back into it. (You've left the wagon where the trapped mechanoid is.) You play the ice-cream jingle, hoping the 'noid will hear you approach and know you haven't abandoned it.

Why haven't you abandoned it? It's not your ally, it's not your friend, it's not your reponsibility.

Because you're a human, dammit, and you can't help being that.

You park the Hubnester near the felled radio mast, and go to fetch a thermal lance and relevant PPE from the back of the van (along with a steel rod to power the lance - this one harvested from a skibidi's metal appendage.)

"This thing gets super hot," you explain to the 'noid, "so I daren't bring it too close to you. I'm going to cut through various lengths of metal in the hope that'll release the pressure on you enough to squirm out. …Reckon you've got enough fight left in you for that?"

The mechanoid gives a double thumbs-up. It seems to be really perking up at the realisation that you're actually going to rescue it.

"By the way, any idea where your legs went? I'll pick 'em up and take 'em with us."

The 'noid shakes its head 'no', and gives a dejected thumbs-down.

"Ah, piss. Well… hopefully your pals can staple some new ones on you."

You systematically cut through pieces of the radio mast in an attempt to relieve the pressure pinning down the mechanoid, while avoiding making the whole structure collapse. You pile up pieces of metal you've already cut, in the hope that if the structure does collapse, the pile will block its path from completely crushing the 'noid.

Eventually you get to a point where you can kick away the main beam that was holding down the mechanoid. They continue lying there for a few seconds more, as if unable to believe they're finally free, then look up at you -- then they rapidly crawl towards you, dragging themselves by the arms. Is the ungrateful bastard going to attack you now that they're free? You were right to not trust these things -- oh. The mechanoid is hugging your legs in gratitude. You feel a pang of remorse for being so quick to assume ill-intent, and you crouch down to properly return its hug. You gather it up in your arms and it clings to you in gratitude, resting its head on your shoulder. These things give nice hugs! There's a surprise.

You discover that while you can bear the weight of the legless 'noid in your arms, you can't unfold your legs and stand up while carrying it. "I'm going to put you down for a bit and bring my wagon over. We'll use that to bring you to the van - I daresay that'll be more pleasant for you than crawling in the dust." You break off the hug with a final squeeze, and gently set the 'noid back down on the ground.

You locate your wagon where you left it, and you pull it over to the 'noid, and drop the tailgate so it can crawl in with your assistance. You load the wagon with everything else of yours that you left on the ground, packing it in around your passenger. Then you begin pulling the wagon back towards the Hubnester, thinking to haul it into the back - no, you have a better idea. Let the mechanoid ride in the passenger seat.

"Hang on a bit," you say, opening the passenger side door, "my passenger seat's normally covered in bricks in case I need something to throw at skibidis. Let me move those first so you can sit there." You begin moving bricks into the passenger footwell - the 'noid doesn't have legs, so they won't get in the way there. You peel off the tarp that protects the seat fabric from the bricks, and stash that down there too.

You help the mechanoid get into the passenger seat, where it buckles itself in. You return the wagon and your tools to the back of the Hubnester, and return to the driver's seat, carrying your atlatl, darts and slingshot. You hand the slingshot to the 'noid, who takes it with surprise.

"Here," you say, "if we enounter skibidis, feel free to hurl bricks. I'll fling darts. Also… I need one more thing from you." The 'noid regards you, as you continue: "If we encounter more of your kind, please signal to them somehow that I'm not an enemy. I've got the same head type as a skibidi, after all."

The mechanoid nods solemnly to confirm that it understands this responsibility. You start the Hubnester Inferno and begin driving.

"I think your kind likes this song. I've heard the speaker-headed ones playing it many times. And I like it too - it's a banger! Good choice of battle anthem," you say as you scroll through various options on the media centre on the dashboard. "There we go," you say as you play Tears for Fears' Everybody Wants to Rule the World. The two of you vibe silently to the song as the van progresses towards the nearest mechanoid outpost that you know of.

Your playlist continues. It's Deep Purple this time. "Not changing it," you say, "Driver's privilege. …We all came out to Montreux, on the Lake Geneva shoreline…"

The 'noid can't sing along, but it bops its head a bit to your singing. It seems a bit startled when you start screaming along with Ian Gillan's howls, though.

"Hey, this is kind of appropriate," you say as the song finishes. "This song's off an album called Machine Head. That's sort of what you are, haha!"

The 'noid doesn't appear to dignify that with a response.

You pull out a tin of energy drink from the driver's door. You might as well enjoy what processed foods you can while you can - no-one's making new ones, and the already-made ones will expire in a few years. "Can you consume these?" you ask the mechanoid.

It shakes its head.

"All the more for me then," you say, opening the can. "Shouldn't really drink stuff while operating a motor vehicle, but who's really going to stop me?" You suck the can dry and shortly afterwards rattle out a colossal belch, to the 'noid's startled bewilderment. You crush the empty can in your fist and stash it back in the driver's door. Civilisation might have ended, but not your disgust for people who throw litter out of their cars.

A few more rock and metal songs (and some musical education for the mechanoid) later, you get a visual on the mechanoid outpost. You bring the Hubnester to a halt and regard the watchtower with your binoculars. You hear the soft whirring indicating that your travelling companion is zooming in to get a look too.

Ah, shit - the guard on the watchtower is raising a rocket launcher to fire upon you. You peel it outta there! They actually do fire, and the rocket hits near where the Hubnester was -- but not that near. They were kind enough to give a warning shot. The rocket also didn't seem that explosive - it must not have had a proper warhead on it. This is clearly a 'stay away' signal rather than a 'die now' signal.

What next? Maybe you could drive the Hubnester over there fast, quickly kick the 'noid out of the passenger door, then peel away. No, bad idea - driving in fast is going to look like hostile intent. Better use the bike. Go the route of 'look as unthreatening as possible'.

"Right then," you say, "Looks as though you're going back in the wagon."

Time to haul the bike and wagon out yet again. The tedious dance begins again: ramp down, wagon out, bike out, ramp up, doors shut, hook up wagon to bike, drop tailgate, load mechanoid into wagon, tailgate up.

If you ride right at the outpost, the watchtower 'noid might see only you and not your cargo. Better to weave there in a wide serpentine so you look less like a bee-lining attacker, and so the 'noids in the outpost can see what - or rather who - you're hauling.

You normally only bother with pedal power, but luckily your bike does have an electric motor for when you need the little boost. This is one of those times. You carry out your plan, switch-backing (and forthing) your way a bit closer to the outpost. The rocket-wielder in the watchtower appears to be getting a bead on you.

Shit, this is suddenly terrifying. Why did you decide to do this? You're only on a bike - you can't possibly peel away fast enough if they fire upon you. You're going to die from your stupidity - you're going to die because you decided to help this stupid mechanoid instead of killing it like you should have--

No-one's fired upon you. The mechanoid in your wagon is waving as hard as it can to attract the attention of those inside the outpost, and more and more mechanoids are gathering on the watchtower and atop the walls. This is close enough -- you brake to a halt (almost going over the handlebars because in your panic you forgot the correct order to pull the brakes), leap to the wagon, kick open the tailgate, then kick the mechanoid out before it realises what you're doing. It sprawls to the ground in surprise, as you leap back onto the bike and pedal like the wind, the wagon's tailgate still dragging on the ground.

"Do a better job of cleaning up your garbage next time!" you call out over your shoulder as you retreat.

---

In the weeks that follow, you start carting back the most-intact mechanoid remains you find to outside that same outpost, dumping them on the ground then pedalling away. You figure the mechanoids can make better use of the parts than you can.

You find yourself pedalling away a little less frantically each time. They're probably not going to fire upon you. The mechanoids even start waving cheerfully to you from the watchtower when they see you approach.

Eventually you get brave enough to start driving the Hubnester Inferno a bit closer instead of only using the bike and its comparatively tiny load. You notice that the mechanoids have started leaving stuff at the drop point for you: various human supplies they've found - tinned foods, toothpaste, and many things you don't actually need, but you can't expect them to know that.

Perhaps this is the start of a lucrative partnership… perhaps, one day, a friendship…