Tevun-Krus #100

99 - Iron Man - @jinnis - Dystopian

Iron Man

By jinnis

He leans on the rusty railing of the balcony, checking if the derelict structure still carries his weight. The wind is warm, the sunset beautiful, full of orange, golden-brimmed clouds over the endless expanses of the ocean. This is his favourite spot and his favourite time of day. He comes here when he feels like he can't bear his life anymore. These moments help him to carry on when he no longer sees the reason behind his existence. And in recent days, he was tempted to pull the metaphorical plug, to end this endless string of lonely days.

The sun sinks slowly into the ocean, leaving the colourful clouds to fade into shady greys and blue hues. To him, it feels a bit like dying. But then the evening star twinkles on the horizon with a promise of new hope.

He heaves a deep sigh before he returns to the sealed part of the building, passes the decontamination unit, and enters the lab to continue his arduous work.

There are only two more wires to connect, and he takes his time to recheck the installation before he activates the power source. Now, the last task is to enter the control code. He types it out one key after the other, with tiny pauses in between.

Two artificial eyes blink open to stare at the world in silent wonder. He enters another command, and steel fingers open and close before they grip the pen held out to them. Another command—the robot sits and then, it stands for the first time on his own smooth metallic legs.

At his command, the artificial body walks the six steps across the lab before he guides it back to the table and shuts it off for today. The function test is completed and the mechanical work done. What remains to do is the tricky part. But he doesn't want to do this tonight, exhausted and with a troubled mind.

He leaves the lab and shuffles into the bare piece that serves as a living room. From his ancient chair, he stares with vacant eyes at the potted plant in the corner. This plant is one of the last surviving organisms on planet Earth, a precious sign of hope. All this time, he did everything to keep it from dying. During the last years, he even managed to nurse several seedlings. He planted them outside, one after the other. But until now, the soil proved too contaminated to sustain them. They died, all of them. He plans to try again next spring, still believing in earth's capacity to heal itself. Maybe next year ... For the millionth time, he wonders if there are others like him and his pet plant somewhere out there. He leans back in his chair and closes his tired eyes.

Now that the project comes to an end, he remembers the beginnings. All the fear, the ecstatic love and the desperate hope. They named the project 'Iron Man'. It was her idea, always so prosaic. They worked hand in hand, she, the brilliant scientist and he, the innovative mechanic. They had early successes and terrible fallbacks. And then their time was running out. The day the nuclear hell broke loose, they decided to take the crucial step.

It had been a desperate shortcut, a gamble he still feels bad about. He wanted to carry on together as planned, even if it cost their lives. But she convinced him to change plans. And time proved her right. Or did it? She couldn't have known how long it would take to find all the necessary parts in an apocalyptic wasteland. Not years, but decades. Decades of lonely searches and tedious lab work, of believing against all evidence—and of missing her.

Tomorrow is the big day. Tomorrow he is going to load her stored memories, her precious personality into the mechanical brain of their creation. Tomorrow he will know if they failed - or once again hear her beloved and dearly missed laughter. His hand is shaking where it rests on his left knee, the knee that troubles him most. He feels ancient. Will she still love him, the way she did all those years ago? Will she understand? With a groan he stands up to care for his plant, his sole companion in all the long and solitary years. Aware of all its needs, he waters it, dusts the fragile green leaves, adjusts the lamp that allows it to grow and prosper in the windowless shelter. He used to speak to the plant, but he stopped years ago. Maybe he should try, maybe tomorrow he will need his voice once again.

"Hello plant, how are you? Do you feel lonely, too?"

His voice sounds as rusty as he feels. Rusty, old and stupid. He caresses a leaf with cold fingers, careful not to injure it. Then he opens a drawer and picks up three of the tiny seeds from the last harvest. Time to try again, maybe this year everything will work out.

After planting the seeds with meticulous care in a bowl of decontaminated earth, he returns to the lab. It must be close to midnight. He scrutinises the sleek metal body lying on the workbench and reruns all the checks. Everything has to be perfect, the body ready for her. Assured it looks fine, he sees no reason to further delay the decision.

With a simple switch that will change his future, he initiates the download. It will take several hours until she regains consciousness. Time enough to turn philosophical. Is this really all that is left of the once so proud human race? The approximation of a human body, filled with memories of a long dead person? He sighs, pushing the morose thoughts away and looks down at himself. He has neglected his own needs during the past months.

Time for basic maintenance, some drops of oil here, a new circuit there. With a chisel, he starts to flake rust from his troublesome left knee.