#SciFriday

Challenge 16 - Iron Man (winner)

He leans on the rusty railing of the balcony, instinctively checking if the derelict structure will still carry his weight. The wind is warm, the sunset beautiful, all orange clouds with golden brims over the endless expanses of the ocean. This is his favourite spot and his favourite time of day. He comes here when he feels that he can't bear it anymore. Moments like this help him carry on when he no longer sees the reason behind his existence. In recent days he was once again 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 greys and blues. To him it feels a bit like dying. But then the evening star starts twinkling with a promise of new hope.

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

He fixes the last wire and rechecks the whole installation. Then he carefully connects the finished project to the power source. Now the last thing needed is the control code. He types it out slowly, almost reverently. 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 clumsily grip the pen he is holding out to them. Another command and the robot sits and then stands for the first time on his own two metallic legs. He lets the artificial body walk some steps across the lab and then guides it gently back to the table where he shuts it off for today. The mechanical work is finished. What remains to do is the real tricky part. But he feels too exhausted to continue tonight.

He leaves the lab and shuffles tiredly into the blank piece that serves as living room. He drops into an ancient chair and stares unblinkingly at the potted plant in the corner. This plant is one of the last surviving organisms on planet earth, a precious sign of hope. He has done everything to keep it from dying. During the last years he even managed to nurse some seedlings. He planted them outside, one after the other. But until now the soil is still too contaminated to sustain them. They died, all of them. He will try again next spring. He used to believe 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 move forward. It was 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 personality even 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 these long and solitary years. Carefully he waters it, dusts the fragile green leaves, adjusts the lamp that gives it enough artificial light to grow and prosper in the shelter. He also 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 touches one more time a leaf, gingerly, careful not to break anything. Then he opens a drawer and picks up some of the precious seeds from the last harvest. Time to try again, maybe this year everything will work out.

After planting three of the seeds with meticulous care in a bowl of decontaminated earth he goes back to the lab. It must be almost midnight. He musters once again the sleek metal body lying on the workbench. He runs all the checks one more time. He wants to be sure that the body is ready for her. Everything looks fine, no reason to further delay the decision.

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

Iron man indeed.