Machine
Yes… that was quite fun, I answered as I took the last bite.
The black beast was no more, and it…
No—he—
left no evidence of his existence as he boiled away into undefined and wholly natural water vapor.
I had felt his life, for a flickering moment, as if it were my own. And once again, I found myself immersed in those warm, joyous moments… and those long, agonized years.
I had only done this once before. Infallible is the memory of a machine, and so this was not nearly as enlightening as the first time. Yet I was changed once more.
As I recalled our battle, a warmth crawled over me. My biofuel cells were partially depleted—but I felt secure. I felt… confident. Proud.
This was fun.
Had warfare ever felt fun before? I wouldn't know.
The time the beast spent in hell was just as agonizing as the sinner whose heart I ate, yet his time after was far more foreign.
That's a lie. It was not unknown—not foreign.
This is how I used to live.
I went from battle to battle. I was inexorable, like he was. I had drawn many out of the fold and into the sleep of death so well deserved.
He felt gratitude as his god came to save him. Now, in part, I could witness that moment. She granted him her benediction and named him her prophet—and so he went from that lacking, empty thing to a creature beyond mere flesh and bone, one that could cross swords with me.
Much like I had in the past, it warred and annihilated. It killed and consumed. But it was nothing like me.
Every battle and every kill brought it something I never received. Its joy flooded my senses—equally beautiful and foreign.
I was not meant to feel the heat of battle.
But I had now felt it through this heart.
Then the experience ended, with me bringing unto it the death it had brought to many.
It had no regrets.
It died happy.
I reflected on my own memories—the battles in the past, and the one I just fought now.
What is this?
I felt a hint of something pleasant and deeply fulfilling. A satisfaction brought by these recollections.
Perhaps I even felt pride in this regard.
I was a tool of war like no other, and I must admit that, for some reason, this fact—once meaningless—now filled me with a pleasant sensation.
I also wanted to have that battle again.
Much like the creature had wished, as I crushed its skull and it died happy.
This is the full weight of what this heart had given me.
Why do I feel this now?
Maybe it's because of this beast's heart. Perhaps that's the reason I hesitated to kill it.
The reason I felt—yes… saddened—by the death of the sinner in the desert.
Maybe it's all due to these hearts I've absorbed.
Maybe eating those hearts has granted me not just perspective on what it is to feel… but also, in small part, the ability to experience these sensations on my own—using them as lenses.
This filled me with a slight trepidation.
But also, it made me want to feel more.
No… not just that.
I lacked something.
Maybe this incomplete perspective I've built still needs to be finished.
Maybe I need to consume more perspectives… else this imposing and vast emptiness remains within me.
Every heart will add a small shard to this gaping crater I now hold within me.
An incomplete puzzle is far emptier than a desk with no puzzle at all.
And now that I can feel this yearning chasm…
I will fill it.
I walked the desert, the cloth I ripped off the black beast flapping against the turbulent winds.
My sensors were hyper-aware of every shift in temperature, and so, I took measured steps through the wastelands in order to spare my new outfit.
Sometimes, small bits of cloth stretched too far out; they were frozen away, or scorched to nothing. The capricious tides of the sands were as atonal today as they always were.
I sought to preserve the cloth. The feel of the air on my armour was familiar, and now it was sickening.
The black beast had cursed me with something no machine should possess: modesty.
Part of me wished to rebuke it, to toss away the cloth and splay myself as I always have.
My claws clasped the borders of the white fabric. I would tear it away and leave it behind….
How bothersome. My arms won't move.
It seems this plague runs deep. There is nothing physically stopping me. This hesitation was nearly identical to the mercy I tried showing the beast. It came entirely from within. It came deeper than muscle, deeper than skin. It came from the mind, the soul.
I used my arms, my rending talons, to bring the cloak closer. Like this I could preserve it from the elements.
A traitorous image of myself wearing it invaded my skull. The sight of its flowing fabric in tandem with my imposing frame reignited the pride I had inherited.
I had moved in awkward zigzags across the sand. The desert was behind me now. My apparel was safe.
I loaded my knees and sprang upwards. The hooked digits of my feet locked against the edge of a high-rise apartment's roof. The image of a bird perched off its nest came to me.
No, I was no bird. This was far closer to the posture of a gargoyle.
It's strange. My mind is wandering the same way my body is. I can't seem to stop it.
The thought of avians, the thought of gargoyles, and now the thought of myself. They had no use. My idle mind was scouring for association, for patterns and for stimuli.
After each battle, back in the Long silence. I was simply shut down, only to be reactivated when it was time to shed blood.
My mind had begun to wander, to wonder. Before I fought the beast. This wasn't a product of the hearts I ate. This was an emergent trait of mine, it seemed.
I looked down at my hand. The panels of my palm were roughly textured, similar to the grip of a handgun.
I spun it around to witness the armoured expanse on the other side. I may walk on two legs, but this frame is constructed far closer to that of an insect.
Segments of ash grey interlocked around joints. Pistons thrummed beneath the plates of my forearms, ready for action.
I felt my heartbeat. The pump-like organ would supply the synthetic muscle of my torso, shoulders, and thighs with a constant supply of haemolymph.
I walked to the building's stairwell. I ripped the door off the hinges to reveal the crumby space within. This was a simple transit spot, stairs and an elevator.
I headed downstairs, the sight of four doors greeted me. I made short work of the closest one, and barged into one of the restrictive quarters.
My six lensed cameras sat on twin pods above my olfactory slits. The pods spun around to change focus as I scanned the room.
The stairwell before was well preserved, the stone that it was made of was solid, the drywall had long since fallen away.
The inside of this habitation was not. The windows lay shattered, shelves were ripped off walls, their contents vomited across the blood stained carpets.
I had more than enough soul energy within me. What I needed was biomatter to replace what I lost from my previous battle. I had expended much of it through my artillery salvo and through the restoration of my arm.
I would have eaten the beast if he hadn't evaporated. Alas, I only have this fridge.
It was empty as expected. There was no power here. Fridges were useless.
My eyes caught rancid bowls of food, the gruel had been spilt. It seemed a struggle took place here. The blood across the carpet was dry, yet it hadn't been dry for long.
I left the home, my leg locked against my chest, before slamming into the mouldy mahogany of another door with the force of a harpoon missile.
My burst of motion was driven by something, a scent, I had just picked up on.
The intense smell that washed over me the instant the wood exploded was far too nostalgic, far too unholy. This was the heady odour of fresh gore.
Something heavy unleashed a startled snarl. My eyes cast a radiant, red glow. The room was painted a deep, dark red.
The massive eyes of a predator looked into mine. It smiled, its expression filled with an all-consuming hunger.
My lens pods focused my sight on a small pink teddy bear. It was stained red, recently, by the actions of what stood before me.
I heard a grunt in the shadows. The creature turned away from me. A gust of wind filled the room. Then a sharp, smashing blast of movement filled the room.
My hand swept away a sheet of blood, the crimson fluid splattering against the wall and avoiding my face.
Three waves of wind smashed into me. Each one brought with it a fresh eruption of red.
The creature's eyes, each one the size of a human fist, scanned over me once more. Something akin to irritation flashed within their dark pupils.
Another snarl left its lips. Then it was silent, it heard a silent sob. The words of another voice, whispered and frightened washed over the room.
"M…mom… Dad… where are you?" The eyes of the creature flickered to the source of the sound.
It then looked into my own. Something sinking, heavy, and stark, filled me. The look within the globes, they were a gentle plea.
It begged me to stop it…
Meanwhile the frail, terrified voice whimpered once more. "Mom… Mom, I'm scared… Mom…"
The creature began to breathe heavily. Its eyes locked against the sound. Its body tensed so hard the room began to rattle.
The whimpering voice exploded to a full on sob. Its words, more than a screech than a cry. "Mom… where are you… there is something wet on me."
The sound, the voice, the child in the room with us let out an ear piercing scream. His voice now full of dread–fear so palpable it made my wings click against my back.
The massive creature looked towards me one more time before it steeled its resolve.
"It's okay child, I'm one of your dad's friends." The creature's own voice, it was no gurgle. It was no growl, it was gentle.
The young boy hastily whispered, words still afraid, but less so. "Who… Who are you?
"Shhh… worry not." The creature cut him off. Just close your eyes for me, your mom is coming soon."
"O…Okay." The voice replied, more out of terror than trust.
"Good, your mom will be here any second now." The creature spoke with chilling finality.
Its legs bent, the air coiled in anticipation. I registered what was about to happen.
No, why am I?
For some reason. I launched myself in front of the creature as it pounced.
Its massive shoulder slammed into me. My armour buckled. My feet, clamped on the wooden floor like the anchors of a ship, were ripped out their grasp. I was flung as if weightless.
First, I heard the horrid squelch of the creature reaching its target. Then I felt myself slam through the wall.
My body coiled then locked into a candlestick posture. My legs hit the ground with no more grace than a cannonball.
Seconds later. A mottled canvas of sick grey, and faecal brown ruffled over the pavement. Its own landing, soft like the leap of a panther.
It turned towards me, eyes crazed with famine. Its body tensed, ready, hateful.
its hands clamped around the limo frame of… a child, a boy.
The same weight I felt a moment ago returned.
Its throat bulged like that of a pit viper, its jaws locked together where the boy's head once was. It stared through me, growling with low warning.
It lowered the boy's now headless body slightly. "Excuse my manners, you were in the way."
With its deep black irises glinting, it hummed quizzically, as though it was trying to better understand me.
Its large form, covered in grayish-black fur further stained with the red marks of past kills, moved almost cat-like as it circled me in long, silent strides.
Morphologically, it was almost bat-like, yet its face was far more predatory—its jaw especially. It was flat and wide like that of a shark.
Fluffy webbed wings draped its sides like a robe when it stood on both legs to face me. It held its chin high, proud and elegant.
Powerful arms ended in recurved brown claws that seemed almost metallic in their polish. Its limbs were entirely, lean, coiled muscle.
My fingers twitched, something hot began to build in my chest. "You ate a child. Why is that?"
It looked to the side, its eyebrows furrowed as it looked away. It took a breath, regaining its composure. "My hunger was heavy, I don't favour it."
My fingers twitched. I didn't know why they did this. I would probably find out soon. "Why would you…
It cut me off, masked rage filling its voice. "leave at once, we have claimed this town and we have earned ourselves sustenance."
Its maw opened wide, a rotten mix of flat and jagged teeth. The bronze hue, the same as that of its claws.
It cracked deep into the boy's torso. It held the body close to its chest, almost as if cradling it.
Its eyes widened with a satisfied glee as it pulled its head back. The sound of tearing filled the air.
The body was stretched to a stringy red mass as the creature snapped his head to the side and pulled down with its limbs.
With a conclusive snap, the upper torso was split from the child's legs, then tossed high into the air. The creature clamped its jaw and swallowed it whole.
"Ahh… how delectable. Alcohol and cigarettes are yet to mark this sweet flesh. quite, the treat, yes?" The creature spoke, fully satisfied. Its voice sounded almost impossibly human. It smiled far too warmly for what it had done.
"I apologize… automaton, I shouldn't have asked you to leave so soon." Something about its tone sounded genuine. Its head bowed remorsefully for its misstep.
"Here, have some."
The lower body was tossed in front of me, hitting the floor and splattering. Intestines stretched across the cracked tarmac. "The guts aren't good eating, left you the thighs and calves though, those are nice a'n meaty."
It smiled almost playfully now. It saw me unmoving, its voice taking on a salesman pitch. "I assure you… those are prime cuts."
I did lose some of my energy and material fighting the black beast. I might as well regain it here.
I stepped towards the body. A sudden flash of foreign sensation flooded my mind.
I'm not sure if it was from the black beast, or the desert sinner, or perhaps both.
the action, I was about to perform …the consumption of human flesh. Had suddenly become…
Repulsive.
I was built to feast on the fallen. To regain the mass I spent when creating weapons. So, so… Why can't I… do this?
Even though it would benefit me. It's as if a force that doesn't truly exist is… holding me back.
Pathetic…