He stood at the edge, the wind was quite insistent today.

There was some distance between him and the barrel of the gun pointed his way. Not much to wonder, to think about. He knew how it would end.

”Ah, well. I did at least go a bit further than the last,” He turned to look at the city glittering below his feet.

Sparks, neon lights, the clattering sounds of street life, and the stories of the denizens of City. How lovely, in its’ ironic brutality. The cars rushed through the veins of the city; flowing like the blood in a torn heart. City spoke in shouts, car horns, and music. Such was its’ beauty. Or such was its’ hatred. It wasn't easy to tell at the moment.

How much life it held. How much death it carried out.

“Is it my time to leave,” He turned back towards the gun. A man stood at the nearby rooftop. He held the small pistol pointed at Forty-one’s head. He knew that specific gun had taken many lives- both Forty-One’s loved ones, and the loved ones of its’ current wielder. Forty-one didn’t know his name- not that there was a point in it. He was the Bear- a predator holding a gun. Prey and Predator didn’t need such formalities. Forty-one was already well acquainted with the Bear. He wore a blue jacket and had a white triangle that pointed down imprinted on his back, and had a lit cigarette in his mouth. If it wasn’t there, it meant someone recently died.

They didn’t have much dialogue. It was mostly Forty-one talking to himself with occasional grunts from the Bear. Yet, even this, Forty-One felt, was a show of camaraderie. The Bear had no reason to let him have these last, precious moments of time. He heard the slow cocking of the gun.

“For what it's worth, brat-” He pinched the cigarette at his mouth and threw it aside, grabbing the gun with both hands. “- you are the one I struggled with the most. It will be quick.”

He hated those words. Did everyone else’s efforts just not matter?

The gun fired and the bullet made union with his engine.

His eyes shimmered as darkness popped in from the sides of his vision.

He fell.

He saw City below. The city he admired. How it disgusted him now.

The ground reached ever closer. Death hung moments away, yet he just stared.

He hated what came after.

You can never let go

All had given

***

That day, bodies rained down in the sky.

Forty-two stood in front of the door under the cover of his house.

Splash after splash, sometimes bodies, sometimes only pieces fell.

Arms, legs, whole bodies. They differed in color, in appearance. Some of them were pink, others pale, some white, some brown, all spattered red.

Drop by drop, they rained down from the sky.

They painted the streets crimson. Eventually, they shriveled, turning black. The body parts were a multitude of colors, yet they all looked the same inside. Born, Forty-Two noticed, not out of steel, but of something unseen before. Red, purple, and many more colors. What the insides were- he wondered.

It seemed squishy, bending, feeble. How can a human even stand up with a body like this?

What were they?

Were the body parts even human?

Where was the steel? The glass? The fibers? The carbon?

Who and what were these people?

One fell down close, right in front of his house. Red splatter reached his front porch. The pavement, the grass near, and the body itself were all covered in red. Only two spheres, devoid of light looked back at him. Neither living or dead- it seemed forgotten to rot.

They looked like the eyes of a bloated fish. Grey in appearance, and had long ago lost the life it once had. Eyes are supposedly the window to the soul, yet he saw nothing behind those broken windows. Something within him wanted to come out, make space for all that has happened so far. He tasted the dregs of yesterday’s meal coming back up from within him.

His worry of someone breaking into his house came and went as swiftly as the bodies fell. His kitchen was a mess: The utensil drawer on the floor, sugar strewn about the floor. The dining table and the chairs had seen much better days.

Forty-one had gone with the wind, or rather, the bodily rain in this case. Frankly, the day didn’t seem like it intended to share its secret to Forty-two.

Ah, well. Wouldn’t mind a divine intervention just about now.

He didn’t expect his prayers to be heard- yet the gods sent him a message…

In the form of something crashing through the roof right into his living room. Just because they answered didn’t mean they liked or appreciated him.

Forty-two bravely, not cowardly, but bravely screamed and threw himself back as dust plumed in the living room.

He managed to dodge several pieces of his sofa and table by a split hair.

Was it another body? Was it an intruder? Was the skydome collapsing?

The house creaked, and through the hole stood the morning sky, welcoming a new day. He could at least consider his dream of owning a skylight fulfilled. Splinters gave a new flavor to the ambiance, unfortunately, it was a painful one.

His face and its’ new acquaintances could testify to that.

Forty-two’s body set off its alarms. The dust and the debris were toxic to breathe and flammable. His mouth crackled, sparks flew out, and finally, a puff of air blew out of his mouth, expelling the particulate. He coughed as filters blocked the worst of the dust from his nose.

Countermeasures established. Green letters popped in his vision and disappeared.

He looked back at his furniture.

Forty-one would’ve loved this.

An unwanted visitor. There laid the roof-breaker, in the middle of his table, or more accurately, the remains of it. Amidst the falling dust, he could see the body of someone about a head shorter than him.

As the dust settled, a new picture painted itself. There laid a woman- the woman who would foot the bill for repairs. Forty-two bought this house just a month ago, and in this housing market, that purchase took several miracles. Just because she was a mysterious person who crashed down in his house during the rain of bodies did not mean he would let her go.

He walked over to see if she was even alive. Tried to, at least. As he approached, she got up and dusted off her dress as if nothing happened. She looked at him.

She looked like a marionette, wearing a blue and white dress that looked like it was made to be held by strings above. Her lips parted, quivering like a cat left in the old. She looked like she wanted to say something. She started to say something. The beginnings of words escaped her, jumbled and robotic. She bit them back several times.

“Sorry, but I ca-,” He stalled as she walked towards him. “Wai-”

She grabbed him by the shoulders, getting on the tips of her toes. Her face stood close to his, and her sky blue eyes shimmered. Were those tears?

“Who am I?” she pleaded. Her eyes held back tears by her sheer force of will.

”Sorry. I don’t understand?”

“Who am I?” she reiterated, this time louder. It didn’t seem to be the answer she hoped for. Yet, she seemed unsurprised.

Was this a scam?

“You are the one who crashed through my ceiling. you tell me.”

She began to wail. She fell down on her knees and took him with her. She cried her heart out. Forty-two tried to pull himself back up, but he failed. He had no clue what to do. “Uh- it is okay…?” . She sobbed harder. She let go of him to pummel the ground without reason or sense.

“Not… fair,” she punched down the remains of the table.

“It’s not fair,” she threw a sizable chunk of the sofa across the room.

In all honesty, he wanted to run. This was becoming too much for him. He could feel the cold wind from outside creeping all around, sensors going wild in his circuitry.

Forty-one disappeared, his kitchen was ransacked, there were bodies raining down the sky, and there was a woman crying in his living room, who crash-landed inside two minutes ago.

It felt too much, so he remembered the age-old adage his sister lived by.

If a job can be left for tomorrow, no need to do it today.

He could see the wisdom in her laziness now. One crisis at a time, he thought to himself. Raining bodies can wait.

First- understand what was going on with this weird woman in his house.

He touched her shoulder confidently. ”You will still need to pay for the dam-“ the world turned upside down.

Or, she sent him flying. Probably the latter.

He checked his chest after he landed. It felt intact. Forcing himself up, he turned back towards her.

“Don’t touch me. You are not him! You’re just an empty copy,” her eyes shone with hatred. Lips thin as a line, jaw clenched. Her small, pale arm outstretched, pointing at him. She didn’t seem like she would hesitate to escalate this further.

Forty-Two took a step towards the door.

She searched for something to throw.

She’s got a screw loose. I need to get out of here.

He inched closer to the door.

”…Who am I the copy of?”

“You,” She threw a plank in his general direction. It didn’t even come close.

“I’m me. I'm not a copy. You may be hurt from crashing in my roof. You should calm down.”

It was the wrong thing to say. He could tell. A tense silence hung between them, broken by the echoing thumps of bodies hitting the streets. She closed the distance between them in a moment and threw him down. She got on top of him and grabbed him by the collar. He was too surprised to talk, let alone get out of her steel grip.

She hit him. “You… You… are… just a… copy,” with every word, she hit him. As much as it hurt, it seemed to hurt her more. Every hit became weaker as she looked like a part of her heart died. She stared into his eyes, distraught. ”I… “

“Stop,” he said.

She could’ve killed him ten times over already. A hit from her palm was enough to send him flying. She hurt him, yes, but it’s clear her heart wasn’t in it. Looking at the bright side- the sky was beautiful from his perspective on the floor, apart from the strange hail. He hoped bodies wouldn’t rain inside. At least the splashing sounds stopped. He could tell by her gaze that she was begging for something from him. What for, it wasn’t clear.

Did I forget something? Someone?

You can never reach the stars

Incentive changed

She wasn’t right in the head, that much was clear.

“Who am I to you?”

She flushed further, but didn’t answer. Her stone gray hair hung like curtains on either side of her head. Forty-two didn’t feel comfortable staring back at her.

“My body… My being, is full of secrets and patches… even now, I can’t tell you.” She stared at him. “Even though we're going to die because of it.” a tear fell down on him. She struggled to speak. Her mouth opened and closed, yet words couldn’t escape her mic.

“Is there anything you can explain?”

“I won’t. We’re dead. He told me it was too late.”

“Who?”

“Forty-one. Think. Think about what he never talks about.”

Forty-two felt jolts spreading around his body. She knew Forty-one. This explained one thing- but what was that she said?

“We’re… going to die?”

“Exactly. We can’t even run away.”

He looked back at the sky. “We can leave the city if the weather is getting worse.”

“The tunnel between here and Love Town is closed,” She furrowed her brows, “Or it would be closed if he didn’t slash the neighbor's tires… It doesn’t matter. The bodies aren’t the problem. With what’s after us, we will die without a car.”

At least he finally knew what happened to his most expensive knife. ”We can hide from whatever is chasing you… chasing… us?”

“They can track us.”

“We can call the Sentinels,” calling them was the likely solution. Despite the limited population of Tower, the Sentinels were nothing to scoff at. Armed to the teeth- they were the police force of Mother. If called for aid, they could likely deal with whoever troubled this girl, and somehow now Forty-Two.

“The Sentinels… are the ones hunting us,” She looked away from him into a corner. With that admission, she seemed tired and broken- in admission of defeat.

“What crime would I have even committed?”

With that, she laughed.

“You shouldn’t have been born the way you are,” she laid down like a deflated balloon.

Forty-two tried to get up, but she refused to move. She snuggled up to him. A captive in her embrace, he couldn’t do anything but unwillingly oblige. He patted her back in an attempt to calm her down. Forty-Two was filled with hesitance and questions. He could feel hot tear droplets dripping down on his shoulder- she sobbed and hiccuped.

It was awkward. He felt her snuggling up closer. Frankly, he would be happy if she rather didn’t. She was crazy.

”So, about the death thing… Can you tell me more?” Forty-two tried his luck.

“If leave the house for the tunnel… they will kill us in there. They’ll murder us on the street before we know what’s coming… Just let me cry.”

“Why are you hugging me?” He ventured, in as polite a tone as he could manage.

She could break his servos and chassis at any moment. Forty-Two did not want to poke the bear.

“Just because I’m pushing down my emotions doesn’t mean they disappear, you know?” She whispered in his ear.

If Forty-One entered the room right now, he would plead to him for help, and then interrogate him once he was free. He didn’t even know this woman's name. ”Were you pushing down? Sorry, I thought you were pushing them up. Ah, ha.”

She chuckled, her voice was like a beautiful wind chime that had been left out to rust. ”I want the whole bakery,” at this point, Forty-two wondered if this were a joke organized by Forty-one. “I want all the bread inside too.”

“Okay, whatever you want,” he forced a smile. “At least get off me,” He pleaded for mercy, yet it fell to the ears of a tyrant.

“No… we don’t have much time left anyway,” She eased her hug a bit, but it wasn’t enough to escape.

This is not the kind of attention from women he was looking for.

“You two got off fast. Well, at least one of you has the history. I guess it helped break the ice?”

Forty-one entered the room. The strong woman suddenly broke their embrace, shoved him across the floor, and shot up, looking embarrassed. He landed on his back, facing Forty-One and the woman, upside down again.

“Ouch,” Forty-Two said.

“Are you okay?” She ran back next to him.

“No, no, I am good,” Not wanting to give her any chances, Forty-Two forced himself to stand up. There were pressing matters to attend, questions to ask, deaths to avoid.

“Where the hell have you been? Who is she? And what is going on? She needs to pay for the roof.”

"Sorry, but, I can't help you," a somber chuckle followed this statement. "Yet... next time, I will try"

A song of steel and lead followed his words.

Bullets riddled Forty-One and the nameless woman.

His sensors went haywire. He looked down at jets of coolant flowing out of his chest.

The room turned blue. Sparks lit up the dry wood. Coolant fluid seeped through him to places it shouldn’t.

It went through his engine.

He died.

His consciousness followed soon after.

Letting himself in the cold embrace of death. In his last moments, he understood why she didn’t let him go.

It was cold and alone.

***

Mother lied to her.

She trusted her mother, and she lied.

It was all a lie. They weren’t free.

She was another bird in a golden cage, singing for Mother's pleasure. Tears streamed down her face. She wasn’t a human. She knew that now. She was just like all the others.

A cold dead machine- made for comfort, sewed with human sins, and sewed with human sins and stuffed by the Gods of City.

There was no changing that. The one thing she had now- her freedom. It was authentic.

Above, where earth resided. Where her freedom was. It stood right in front of her, taking the form of a hatch going down City. She smiled bitterly.

“Down, down, and down, I go,” she leapt.

You can never touch the soil

Penalties Enforced