Scribble: Growth of a kind.

      Sunlight glinting off of metal latticework, the builder paused before the yet unfinished dome, still enshrouded in its steel cocoon. A fierce wind, enraged at the affront to its desolate plain, threatened to choke ancient joints and gears alike with dust from the ground. Yet, beneath a tattered cloak, the builder simply stood, a humble chuckle ringing beneath the din.
      It will take far more than that, I'm afraid, the builder thought, steadying its metal frame with an ornate iron staff. Your purpose is desolation, while mine...
      As dust settled upon the arid ground, the cocoon once more emerged from the tempest's shroud, shining all the brighter. Heavy footfalls sending dust into the air, the builder began walking toward its creation, unblinking eyes focused upon a single emblem on the dome's exposed face.
      There, carved upon a copper plaque, rose a great and powerful tree from an endless desert...

Scribble: What's this? Continuity?

      Mechanical eyes gazed out over the horizon, the lonesome figure standing perfectly still atop a jagged, frail cliff. A fierce wind threatened to rip away the observer's tattered cloak and scarf, holding back only for the great hammer clutched within its brass and copper fist. Paying the interloper no mind, the figure continued to survey the bleak landscape below, punctuated only with earthen spires and the ghosts of mountains long past.
      No life remains, it thought, bowing its heavy, round head in concentration. No . . . life never took roost here, beyond the beast...
      Memories of a single red orb flashed across its mind, the hideous creaks of ancient joints ringing in the air. Returning to the present with a shake of its head, the figure stood in silence for but a moment, before nodding to no one.
      Then this will be our new forge, it thought, turning to the narrow, rocky path leading to the valley below. With heavy steps, the observer began its long descent, wielding the mighty hammer as a staff with each step. Catching the faintest hint of birdsong in the air, it paused, its metal body heaving something like a sigh beneath the rags.
      And perhaps, it thought again, pausing to turn its eyes skyward, life will soon follow.

Scribble: New dawn.

      Kneeling before the rushing waters, the diminutive figure remained motionless, a slender statue of metal set upon the grass. Round, unblinking eyes gazed deeply into the creek, eagerly following the slightest movement on the riverbed, their lenses clicking and whirring all the while.
      "Keeping an eye on the fish again, are we?" chuckled a gravely, but cheerful voice, as a hunched-over man sauntered over to the water's edge. Leaning on a cane fashioned from some old colossal wrench or another, he chuckled again, running a thick, calloused hand through his whiskers.
      "Invertebrates," came the childlike reply, before the smaller figure turned to its companion, hesitant to break its watch. "I believe you call them . . . 'crawdads'? Is that correct?"
      "Ah, a regular astacologist!" the old man chuckled again, patting the smooth round dome of his companion's head. "Yes, they've been slowly making a comeback in these waters," he continued, dark eyes scanning the waters from beneath heavy wrinkles. "Ever since the generators went up long ago, everything in this region's been coming back, slowly but surely..."
      The sound of flowing waters soon overtook the conversation, as the odd pair simply searched beneath the surface, the old man's hand slipping to his charge's tiny shoulder. A single dragonfly appeared from places unknown, hovering in front of the little observer briefly, before finding a perch on the opposite bank. As its round eyes followed the creature, the small machine caught a glimpse of the windmills in the distance, dwarfing even the tallest of trees. Beyond the massive, sweeping blades, a small airship could be seen drifting over the horizon.
      "Grandfather," chirped the metallic voice once more, as unblinking eyes turned to the ancient visage, "will I ever get to see the world as it was?"
      "Mayhap," came the reply, riding upon a sigh. "If we're all so lucky as that."
      Round eyes returned to the water, immediately catching a small crayfish, walking along the sandy floor. "I hope so," the little one whispered, watching the creature saunter to a hidden friend...

Scribble: Storm's passage.

      A single heartbeat, rising above the din.
      Outside, just beyond the salt-eaten fence, turbulent waters lulled, as the faint cry of gulls carried on the wind.
      A single heartbeat, rolling like thunder.
      Outside, far above drip-dripping rooftops, fearsome clouds parted, the last flicker of lightning long ago fading into sunlight.
      A single heartbeat, erupting, bursting into the air.
      The echo of digital bells, ringing beyond the cracked glass, rising through the holes in the ceiling above. A weary, shaking hand flips the chipped casing open, doubting its own sense of touch.
      "Please," cries a voice from the receiver, static choking each breath, "please, please tell me that you picked-up..."
      A single heartbeat, slowing, calming, quivering.
      "Just tell me..." came a shivering voice, unsure of its own sound, "...tell me that this isn't a dream..."
      Two voices, muddled by static, joined in grateful sobs.
      A single heartbeat, rising above the din, joined by another...

Scribble: This would be more dramatic with set-up.

      Ornate metal fingers wrapped around the shaft, knuckles creaking as they tightened their grip. Trembling slightly, the brass and copper figure stood at the ready, its mechanical eyes blinking but once in their scan of the horizon. Brandishing the mighty hammer from the forge, the survivor stood as a great knight of old, lacking only the flesh beneath the armor.
      Perhaps I am all that is left, it thought, head bowing with its unseen burden, but so long as I exist, there will be others...
      In the distance, a great roar burst forth, parting the very mist and shaking the walls of the mountains. A single red orb of light shone through the sudden gap, as the clanking of poorly-fitted joints ripped through the air.
      It is time, thought the survivor, nodding its heavy, round head. Digging the treads of its feet into the ground, it quickly shifted powerful legs from a defensive stance, bounding high into the air.
      Just as rusted claws swiped madly through the fog, fierce mechanical eyes bore down on the beast, the hammer's head falling swiftly before its wielder...

Scribble: If this were film, it'd probably be rated "R" in this damn country.

      The steam still lingered in the air, carelessly brushing over the mirror. Droplets rolling down her skin, she stared at the ghost on the other side, standing bare and wet.
      Instinctively, her fingertips found the small silver pendant just over her heart, still warm to the touch. Twirling and fondling the little gleaming tear, her eyes shifted to the little piece of silver held so delicately in her hand.
      With a smile, she quickly jerked her hand away, still clutching the little tear. The weathered and worn string snapped almost instantly, lingering just enough for a farewell sting. With a single clink, she set the discarded pendant atop porcelain, as her hand pressed a healing touch to the back of her neck.
      Looking up, she could see the clear reflection of short, damp bangs. Taking a step back, the ghost had faded, leaving behind a tearful smile and the bare skin over her heart.
      "No more tears, I guess," she mused, wiping a stray droplet from the corner of her eye, as her hand fell gently upon her chest. "Time to begin anew."

Scribble: I miss my robots.

      Ghosts of verdant fields drifted on the wind, kicking up dust and debris in their passing. Surveying the rusted landscape, the wanderer carefully measured every step on the shifting ground underfoot, its great metal body swaying with each gust.
      Was it here? came a thought, as synthetic eyes whirred and clicked, trying in vain to pierce through the dust. If only this storm would relent...
      Within moments, the wind started to fade, as though heeding the wanderer's call for help. Dark clouds hanging over the sky slowly parted, as stray beams of sunlight pierced the dusty air. Even the restless dust settled on the ground, revealing the rusted skeletons of giants, scattered across the landscape.
      Ah! There it is! the wanderer thought, cylindrical legs clanking loudly as it ran. Just where the scanner indicated!
      Soon, the wanderer stopped before a colossal hand of steel and wires, its stubby fingers spread upon the ground. With a heave, cylindrical arms hoisted a single rusted digit into the air, before casually tossing it to one side.
      There, hiding in the small alcove beneath the palm, quivered a small family of animals, their brown fur coated in a thin layer of dust.
      "Found you!" the wanderer chirped, kneeling down beside the frightened creatures. Pulling a satchel from its shoulder, the wanderer extended a faded silver hand, as each took turns nuzzling its fingertips. "Come now," came the chirrup again, "let's get you guys somewhere safe..."

Multi-Scribble: To pick up where we last left off...

      "Damn it!"
      Minutes of frantic typing had been for naught: the dimly-lit cargo still remained sealed before her. Snarling at the glowing console before her, the survivor raised her arm, as it shifted into the humming weapon once more. "If I can't unlock it the easy way," she said aloud, taking careful aim at the large, coffin-like pod before her, "then I'll just have to --"
      An explosive rumbling echoed through the cargo hold, as the survivor darted behind a stack of metal containers. He just won't give up, will he? she thought, as the floor shook with another rumble. Giving one last glimpse to the sealed pod before her, she steadied her weapon with a slightly quivering right hand, bracing for what was to come. "Hell if I let you take him," came the synthetic growl.
      Before she had time to understand what was happening, she saw the hold's heavy door fly across the room, before being embedded into the very hull. With a gasp, she rose from the floor, just as a flash of greenish plasma materialized beside her head. Scrambling to hide behind the sought-after crate, a hissing voice bellowed, ringing throughout her sensors.
      "Fool," it began, as the survivor steadied herself once more, "none of the mercenaries protecting this vessel could stop me..." A crate, only a few meters away, burst into a flash of light, leaving no trace of its existence. "Nothing remains of your employers, save their memory. What could you have to gain by continuing this pitiful game?"
      The survivor frantically looked around until, just across from the precious pod, she caught a glimpse of a security camera -- still functioning, tracing the intruder's movements. Silently, she tapped the side of her round, smooth head, until a small antenna array unfolded from within, as her dark eyes suddenly shifted to a dim white glow.
      I'm in, she thought, her vision melding with the camera's own sight. Seeing the distinctive glow from his eyes, the survivor studied his movements carefully, as he blindly approached where she had been hiding. Doesn't even know I moved. Probably doesn't know I can watch him. Which means...
      "What do I have to gain?" came the booming voice over the cargo hold's speaker system, as the intruder stopped in shock. "Did it ever occur to you that, perhaps, I wasn't another mercenary after all?"
      Raising his weapon, her assailant scanned the hold, his pale, chitinous head pulsating in distress. As he turned away from the pod, the survivor, in one swift motion, burst forth from her hiding place, firing burst after burst of plasma after him. Glowing fissures in the plates of his ebon armor illuminated the entire hold, as he spun to face his opponent. His green eyes widened in horror, as the survivor continued pounding the intruder, knocking him off-balance with each percussive blast.
      She would've pressed on, had alarms not began to sound in her head about her rapidly overheating arm. As servos shifted her left hand back into place, the intruder fell to the floor in a heap, as his raspy breathing echoed throughout the hold. Approaching him, the survivor -- antenna withdrawn, eyes once again dark -- clenched her fists in anticipation.
      His head was more bulbous now, pulsating more rapidly, as a glowing, pus-like substance oozed from between the chitinous plates of his scalp. Eyes narrowing in contempt, he coughed from an unseen orifice, as the green fluid dripped from the cracks in his armor. "I did not expect . . . this," the intruder hissed, struggling to rise from the floor. "Perhaps, next time . . . I will need to be better prepared."
      Before she could speak, her assailant's entire body erupted in the same pale green light that escaped from his armor, only to vanish within an instant. Stunned, she barely had a moment to adjust before another voice, much smoother and calmer than the last, echoed through the hold.
      "I know not of who that was," came the voice, as the survivor turned to see another android, walking from the direction of the pod. "Nor do I know you, who came to save me . . . or even where I am, for that matter."
      The pod must've opened during the fight, she thought, giving a fleeting thought to blasting the uncooperative console for good measure. As the living cargo approached, the survivor extended an open hand, still trying to calm herself.
      "There will be time for explanations later," she began, in a tone that wasn't quite friendly, but wasn't quite stern. "We need to get you off this damned wreck, and quick. Besides," she paused, not realizing she had started walking off at that point, and turned to face the cargo once more, "the one who sent me is a great deal better at explanations than I am. Let's go!"
      Running after her, the confused android called out, "will you at least tell me your name?"
      "Vossar," she replied, stepping into the ruined corridor with the android not far behind. "My name is Edyne Vossar..."

Multi-Scribble: Why are robots always given the masculine pronoun?

      She couldn't remember when she'd last had a charge -- six, maybe seven cycles past when her systems could function properly -- only that there was none alive left on the ship now, save herself.
      Well, not exactly, she thought, moving silently through shadowed corridors. There's still the cargo, and--
      An explosion racked the hull of the ship, as her slender form ducked into a niche in the wall.
      "Damn," she whispered, under what could have been breath in a more organic form. Dark eyes dimming in concentration, she could feel the servos in her left arm shift and lock, until the hum of a cannon echoed around her. Just in case, she thought once more, brandishing her transformed appendage to allay her own fears. Not that there's much left to lose...
      Dashing back into the corridor, she worked her way along the shadows, trying to remember the route to the escape pods. Somewhere in the back of her mind, an alarm was being raised -- not much longer before stasis lock. Hold on, just for a little longer...
      As the dull pain in her head started to build, her eyes caught sight of an all-too-familiar security door, bolts withdrawn and left slightly ajar. A pale, intermittent glow emanated from within, punctuated by the sound of malfunctioning circuitry. Dark eyes widening on her expressionless face, the survivor found herself slowly drifting toward the cargo hold. If that cargo survived, then perhaps...
      Another explosion rocked the ship, as she bolted for the door. "Guess there's only one way to find out," she said to no one, sliding through the slim opening before sealing herself within with a loud clunk.
      In the distance, a pair of green eyes blazed in the shadows...