Artificial Willpower

No Lines

Thank you once again _sleepy.moth_ for this great peice!

Yancy spent the day in Illinois' work shed, trying to carve and chip away at a stone. He wanted to make Benjamin a gravestone himself, but he had no artistic skill, and he was right-handed, to begin with. He kept chipping too far no matter how careful he was with the mechanical arm. His accuracy of what he wanted was off.

The whole time, while Illinois was at work in town, Yancy was struggling with the stone. He was so focused he hardly touched the snacks Illinois had put in there for him so he didn't have to get up.

It was a frustrating process of over-correcting and clumsy mistakes.

Illinois had told him a gravestone wasn't necessary, but Yancy insisted. He wanted to prove to himself he really was serious. He wanted to make sure this wasn't easy so he could be sure he was apologizing the best he could.

As he worked, he thought about how he really didn't know Benjamin. Benjamin was nice, and he knew the basics about why Benjamin was at the facility, but at the end of the day that's all he knew. He truly did feel like, under different circumstances, the two would have been friends. Benjamin had seemed to be a kind, likable guy.

Yancy wasn't, but he felt in some other universe, where he never got caught up with the wrong crowd in the very beginning, he could have been a good person. Maybe that version of him, that Daniel who wouldn't need a fake name to hide from the reality of who he was, could have been best friends with Benjamin.

Instead, here Yancy sat, carving a headstone for a good man he never knew. Instead, he was learning how to use a robotic limb while wrestling with guilt, logic, and even anger. Instead of being Daniel Jones, a boy with the potential to be whatever he wanted, with the potential to do good, and make people smile, he was Yancy. A Frankenstein monster of a person, with unbearable guilt, constantly ripping at his insides.

He finished creating the makeshift, clumsy-looking gravestone shortly after Illinois got home. Yancy felt like the stone was offensive to Benjamin's memory. Like spitting at a person instead of giving flowers. Several spots were chipped too deep or, making some letters unrecognizable. Other lines of the letters were too short or too long. There were no curves in the letters, efficiently making it look like a caveman made it.

As he was considering tossing it (both the gravestone and the idea), Illinois came in.

" How's it goin?" Illinois asked, leaning on the table.

" It's as good as it's gonna get" Yancy replied, defeated. " I don't know nothin about him, so it ain't too personalized, and it ain't pretty, but I... did the best I could"

Illinois smiled" As long as you did the best you could, you did perfectly." He came over to help Yancy up, "There's a spot near the edge of the clearing with a bunch of dandelions"

Yancy carefully got up with Illinois' assistance. He held the stone carefully in his metallic arm. " Ain't Dandelions weeds? That sounds sorta disrespectful..."
" Yeah, most people classify them as weeds. But I think they're amazing."

Yancy frowned "why?" He could remember his mother every summer and spring, tirelessly trying to get rid of the large patches of yellow weeds in their lawn.

Illinois helped him outside," They're strong. They grow and thrive anywhere the seeds land. Kids wish on them like they wish on stars. They just... feel like an embodiment of hope."

The patch of yellow and white flicked softly in the wind. Hope, but for what? A better future? A patch of joy someday? Or just peace. Satisfaction. Hope for rest, or an opportunity to breathe and just be. Hope for the day that there's no more 'next step' because, in this hopeful future, the destination is met.