II
Unexpected Guests
His eyes were locked on a leaf in front of him, a droplet of water slowly sliding down from stem to tip. It fell off and pulled straight downward causing the slightest bounce of the leaf. Aapo glanced along this one up into the infinite leaves above, watching more raindrops gradually fall through the multitude of cracks between Rebourne Forest’s dense ceiling. In this part of the world, it was nearing the end of spring. Over the last few months, Aapo had watched as the forest grew from decrepit brown to its lively phase of green. He knew the pattern was bringing a monstrous storm, but for now he could enjoy the calm, mild trickles of water flowing through the forest mass.
This part of the year always brought comfort to Aapo; after spending long winter months nurturing the forest in its most vulnerable state, he watched as it transitioned back into a time when it flourished the most. He could take refuge in his nearby village when it was raining too hard, and he would return to the forest during lulls in the weather to find what always felt like a fresh, new environment that had never been explored. He’d walk through it, seeing places that he’d passed numerous times before, but replacing images of bare branches in his mind with a view that always felt entirely different, like a new forest had been born in the old one’s place. With it came a new phase for Aapo, opening up new possibilities for exploration and interaction with the environment that he’d grown to love and cherish.
Previously, he could see through the barren branches past the forest’s edge, all the way across the small, empty field to his village. Now, he could sit high up in a tree relishing the fact that if he looked west toward the village, he couldn’t even see the edge of the forest, obscured by the thick leaves; he could only see its growing expanse. From his vantage point it appeared endless in all directions, demonstrating the power that at one time it had come so close to withering. After being alone here for so long, Aapo had claimed ownership over this small part of the world. Years earlier it showed potential for nurturing a population, but he felt that it only needed him. Although rain was beginning, the sun was still peeking through Rebourne’s canopy, making the wet leaves shimmer with beauty. He sat and listened while the birds and bugs chirped and whistled before they would hide away for a few days.
After a lapse of time that could’ve been a few minutes or mere hours, Aapo’s peace was broken by an unfamiliar sound. The sound did not belong to any kind of animal or creature native to the forest. It was a medley of rustles and voices that could only belong to someone that Aapo had, so long ago, pushed out of his mind. He crawled through the leaves from branch to branch, inching westward toward the still-unseen opening of the forest. From a distance he could make out two figures. Immediately it was clear that they were not machines, they were humans. They were strangers from somewhere distant, maybe passing through, looking for a new place to settle or scouting for supplies.
Feelings were ignited in Aapo that he hadn’t felt in years. He hadn’t seen humans for quite some time; they almost seemed alien to him now. They looked so out of place in the forest. Memories from the past flooded into his mechanical mind. He remembered living in a time with people like them as friends. He’d served them, but he was treated as though he were an equal. They’d learned, played, and worked together. They also fought. Machines wanted more power, but naturally humans wouldn’t give it up, especially to something they’d created, something that was supposed to be subordinate to them. The community was torn apart and quickly joined the fate of the rest of the world that felt so distant to Aapo. The whole time Aapo had tried to remain neutral as best he could, trying to keep peace the way he had from the instant of his creation. He only felt pain upon seeing these newcomers, reminded of the old life he’d lost when the humans and machines lost relations. He watched them from above, afraid of what they might want and do. As the clouds continued to darken, his mind shifted from the possibilities of the new season to the dread of destruction that he feared would be brought by these unexpected guests.
“What the hell is this thing?”
“It appears to maybe be some sort of water system—do you see how some of the pipes lead to the wells right there?”
“Right, okay, so what’s with the mechanical trees? Why would it be connected to these?”
“I don’t know, exactly, maybe they’re dying? Look how enormous they are, must be a thousand years old.”
“Maybe this is connected to the water source back in the village?”
They walked a few feet to the left behind the base to observe the wells. There were three of them within five feet of each other, each with a small diameter. These were the focal point in the labyrinth of pipes. They were the initial source for the village and tree systems that these visitors would eventually learn about. In this clearing on the outside edge of the forest, a large base was built with pipes drawing from the wells which sent water through an elaborate variety of other pipes running in all directions through the trees and toward the village like a spider’s web. Analyzing the system, they noticed its stretch toward the village, hoping it was what they needed and resolved to find means of activation. They would need this vital source if they had any hope of inhabiting or surviving in this strange new place for any time at all.
“This has to be machine tech; I don’t see how human inhabitants could’ve come up with this stuff themselves. This thing is pretty expansive, there has to be a hundred pipes running out of it.”
“What do you think the valves do?”
“I’d guess they control the flow—notice how a few of these run from the ground? Drawing from that source, maybe if one is shut off others will close and vice versa, so it seems like we have to figure out which ones we need and which ones we don’t.”
They tinkered for a while, closing some valves and opening others, hoping the ones they opened led to the village. If not they’d have to keep returning until they were right. Fortunately for them, the valves were the simplest part of the system, the rest of its inner workings and network of connections were far past any of their technological expertise.
Thunder rolled across the expanse of Rebourne Forest. The storm had gone on for some time, ending mid-evening, leaving a thick fog floating through the trees. The sky had been dark since, a thick layer of clouds refusing to retreat from the atmosphere. The sun hadn’t peaked out in two days, even when it wasn’t raining. Wildlife had been almost entirely absent aside from a few rodents scrambling to find shelter in their holes.
Aapo was tense. He first saw his new visitors right before the storm broke, having watched them retreat when the sky began to darken. At the time he was perched stealthily in a tree about a hundred yards from them, weary of their sight and hearing, hoping to avoid provoking any kind of reaction from them at all costs.
He’d fled into hiding in a hollowed out tree that he sometimes used as shelter in the forest. Technically it was not much more than a temporary outpost, but to him it sometimes functioned as a small room. This room belonged to a home that he’d pieced together consisting of various spots in the forest and a few huts in the village that he’d frequent occasionally. All of them were spots that allowed him quick access into the world that occupied his thoughts, memories and tasks to complete each day. But right now he couldn’t bring himself to go to the village, knowing the probability that he would find enemies.
He was unsettled thinking about the forest and all they could have done to it in recent days. He didn’t know anything about these new humans, but he remembered how the old ones had been, and they were the only ones he’d ever known. Even when the humans and machines were living together peacefully, they were contributing to the destruction of their surroundings, sometimes not realizing it. The forest was polluted from waste, the initial development of the village particularly yielding harm. At the beginning there were a lot vehicles, gases being spent and spilled. Exploration of the area was careless, and most of the machines, not knowing any better, welcomingly contributed.
The trees, which were indeed older than the villagers could fathom, were condemned in a flash of time, withering like a flower in winter. Pollution ran through the soil, spoiling their roots, bringing the trees close to extinction. Eventually Aapo was instrumental in keeping them alive. Despite opposing opinions and his arguments being low on evidence, something pressed Aapo to keep them flourishing. He’d taken an immediate interest in the forest when their party decided to settle near it, knowing there must be some sort of value to them beyond basic science, communicating to him that they must be maintained.
He led his fellow machines in building the system that the trees were now living off of. The village inhabitants had scraps of metal and machinery and continued to bring in more from outside sources. The system was constructed right at the edge of the forest. Having built the village less than a mile from the tree line, close proximity made it easy enough to connect the base with the village water systems. The humans involved saw the value, at least because it led to advancement that benefitted them. The work Aapo had done meant that they were able to live in the village for an indefinite amount of time, despite the scarcity of other nearby water sources. Of course after everything had happened, and with humans absent, there wasn’t any need for water in the village. Only the trees were thirsty and Aapo made sure to satisfy them.
He crawled from the tree and took the opportunity of the foggy cover to scout his surroundings. Although porous, the ground was still soft and wet from the rain. There was a crisp, chill atmosphere within the fog and leaves, like the forest had been freshly cleaned. It was still unsettling, even though he was in its midst; the forest felt cold and distant to Aapo. His outpost was about twenty feet from the main path in the forest, which was created in the early days when the humans trekked through for water, wood, and exploration. He meandered to the closest part of the pathway that cut through a clearing in the trees. The path winded through the forest for a few miles. Aapo was now about a mile east from the water system’s epicenter, making him about two miles from the village.
Aapo sat intently with his tool of choice. It was a baton-like tool that he’d built for himself long ago when the village was consistently replenished with resources. He used it for almost everything—welding, cutting, lighting—it had an enormous range of functions. It also had a weaponize utility but he preferred to avoid that use. Looking down the pathway, no signs of foot traffic could be seen. They must have gone away from the forest’s edge when the storm began picking up.
A cycle of dark reflection was running through Aapo’s head now, prompted by fresh events and fears. His memory was patchy because of the devastation that occurred on all sides when the humans and machines split. He tried to avoid thinking about everything that had happened, trying to enjoy his solitude and focus on what mattered to him in his small, but seemingly expansive personal world. Occasionally something discomforting would slip into his thought systems, and he would sit still somewhere in the forest or wander through the village turning up old stones.
Observing the pathway, an early instance of violence slipped into his head. He remembered the first time he saw one of the humans in the village do physical damage to an activated machine. He’d seen plenty of old machines and disembodied parts manipulated or destroyed, but it was always for the purpose of future creation and expansion of their community. This time it was only an outlet for anger. There was a housekeeping machine that Aapo had been friends with who had been owned by one of the more troubled villagers.
The man was one of the few without a wife or family, and was actually only included in the founding community because of his renown as a mechanic in his previous life. He was frequently drunk, and that night the housekeeping machine paid the consequences. The machine was fixing a sink in the man’s hut, which had malfunctioned earlier that day. It was having trouble and called the man for help. Upon his arrival, something went wrong causing water to spray from the sink’s main pipe. The water hit the man in the face, and he drunkenly lashed out, using a laser knife he had been holding to cut off the machine’s left arm.
The man’s history of instability caused him to be treated with caution and low regard amongst the other villagers. At the time it was a petty event that nobody had given a second guess to; another instance of him acting out. The machine’s arm could be easily repaired, and the necessary parts replaced. What once seemed an unsurprising occurrence, now made Aapo wonder if it alluded to a deeper unrest among human-machine relations. He couldn’t help but think it was a foreshadowing of what happened in following years. To Aapo it seemed that, for humans, there was always mistrust and skepticism that their beloved machines could function properly, while the machines always felt the weight of inferiority that was instantly prescribed to them upon activation. Some of them accepted it as their rightful role in relation to humans, while others like the housekeeping machine felt it a condescending inferiority.
Aapo felt strangely compelled toward the wells and the base. It felt like he was proceeding against his will, but in a way, he had no choice. He walked slowly and consciously, aware of every small movement happening in the forest, which, as nighttime approached, grew increasingly absent. He wasn’t sure if they’d have any reason to come out at this time; Aapo’s old humans typically avoided the forest at night, taking care not to get lost, entangled in the dark, endless labyrinth of vines and leaves. Regardless, that fear lingered, along with the discomfort that if they weren’t out there, they were still a mere short distance away in the village.
He focused on the system, which gradually came into view. Eventually he approached and analyzed to see what had been tinkered with. Since he’d been absent for a few days, there could have been multiple efforts. When he arrived he found what he expected: small changes had been made. Of course they were new, ignorant creatures and were still figuring it out through trial and error. Two of his trees had been cut off, but most of the others had been fine. A couple others that had long been out of use were off; they didn’t matter, and only three of the five leading to the village hub had been successful. He knew they were probably happy but confused, thinking they’d made a step toward conquest but wondering why their water flow was so weak, only spreading to half of the village water receivers. This granted him small comfort, but the prospect of future tinkering prompted anger in him. As he swelled he could only wonder if his anger would ever feel anything like those human fits of rage. Knowing they would come back out regardless, Aapo impulsively wrenched the valves back to their previous state and lingered home, ready to report back the following evening.
“I don’t understand what could have happened, it may be machine tech but I thought you guys said the valve system was simple enough.”
“We did, but remember this is foreign technology to us. When the water was working it wasn’t working well. We have to find the other missing pieces, the correct ones. I don’t believe that’s all the power this thing has.”
It was midday and the two had come out from the village to approach the valves and take another step in their project. One of them had been there initially to explore the system, while the other was a new counterpart, waiting to see it for the first time. The first man had a few theories on how it might work and wanted to observe it further. He only needed someone else to help him with the valves. This man was tall, plain looking, but above average for a human. He had short, soft brown hair and sharp green eyes. He spoke with confidence, like he knew something more than his counterparts, even though in this case, he really didn’t. After a few minutes’ walk, they drew near to the base to once again analyze this strange new system. The green-eyed man looked, paused, and motioned toward his friend with a confused expression.
“Someone else is out here.”
“How can you know that?”
“I changed these valves myself; I don’t think they would automatically revert back, do you?”
“You said the system was strange, didn’t you?”
“Well, yes, there is a chance that could have happened, but I find it very unlikely. The system itself is elaborate, but the valves are just like any others you’ve seen before.”
“Alright, well let’s give it one more shot before we put out a search party, we don’t need to be looking for danger. Like you said, we probably still need to make sure all of the correct ones are on anyway.”
The green-eyed man started twisting them, closing different ones and opening the original three plus a few more. They started back for the village.
That evening Aapo crawled out again. It was no less dreary than the previous night. Fortunately it still provided Aapo adequate cover from unwanted eyes. He walked along, taking the same paths as the evening before, again moving slowly and cautiously. He went back for another check-up on the base. And again he would not like what he’d find. After navigating shortly along the path, the system slowly came in to view. This time as he neared the hub he could see clearer footprints. It hadn’t rained again, so they were defined in the soft brown dirt. Surely enough valves had been turned. This time they’d been lucky enough to get all of them right for themselves.
Aapo felt slightly guilty. He thought of the security that this brought the entire village, remembering how his own people had felt when the system was devised. There could be entire families dying of thirst, having found their last safe refuge from the greatest war their homeland would ever see. But he was out of touch with the world. He couldn’t possibly imagine something of that magnitude, nor could he imagine something that would justify them taking this place away from him. He was going to change the valves again, but this time he knew it would only be a test. He would have to wait for their reaction, and he knew there would be another step, maybe many more.
After fixing the valves he hovered through the forest checking each of his trees. He used his baton to gauge their flow. Using one of its many functions, he would inject the baton into a low root of a tree, and the tool’s small screen would indicate to him the status of its subject, and then he would check the exterior manually. He slowly analyzed each one, making sure the system was feeding them properly, making sure their branches were still sustained. In the darkness he could see a small glow from the village. Periodically he would look and pause on it for a small time, wondering what was happening there. He wondered if they noticed the change yet, what they were saying to each other about it, if anything at all. He started with the trees closest to the forest perimeter, as they were only a few feet in from the base. He aimed to move in from there before going back into the deep black and green. He spent about ten minutes per tree; after three of them he looked once more.
The glow looked different this time, it looked to be shrinking, and then separating. He activated a night vision device he had installed before the falling out. He didn’t use it much because his vision was sharper than a human’s, so it rarely proved useful. The device also removed any of the colors or textures of his environment that he’d grown to love, even when it was dark outside. But with it he could see more-detailed shapes and longer distances. He could see their human silhouettes slowly approaching the base once again. They must have thought this issue important enough to risk venturing out at night. They each carried a simple torch and flame, something Aapo had never seen. He knew humans had used these before, but by the time he was developed technology had rendered them entirely obsolete. Of course, after the wars they were cautious about working with any kind of technology they didn’t really need. They only allowed themselves to trust something like this water system because it could sustain their lives.
Aapo scrambled quickly to the valves, thinking to change them back again. Maybe they would think it was only a small malfunction and shrug it off. They would probably get there in fifteen minutes, so he dashed at a frantic velocity. Not only would he have to move fast, but with precision enough to remain unseen. Still sitting at his third tree, he was about fifty feet from the base. He could see it diagonally, slightly southwest from his location. He dashed toward it, taking a straight shot. He jumped over the roots of three more trees on his way, crashing through the forest brush. He got to the base as soon as he could and started twisting the valves before pausing. Aapo questioned this line of thinking; this would not solve anything. He would only sabotage them again later, and this would only postpone confrontation. All he could do was leave them and back off. After all, it was dark, and he could remain hidden among the trees.
He climbed a short way through the forest, going back the direction he came, constantly looking toward their light, seeing them inch closer and closer. Aapo hid in the same tree he’d been in before, hoping he was at a safe distance. The darkness was the only thing nurturing him at this moment, covering the flippant destruction he’d probably left along the path to and from his perch. He wanted to maintain a safe distance but still be close enough to hear and see what was going on within their group. He watched with his night vision device as they approached, probably five minutes away now.
He was entranced, thinking, lingering on his anxieties as much as ever. He couldn’t stand to face this. He kept returning to the thought that he was a peaceful being doing no harm; he was defending his docility inside his head. When his former humans built him it was with the sole purpose of nurturing life. He was given a community and resources, and he followed rules the best he could. He was well-liked in the village, with a reputation of consistent selfless service to his people and a pleasant disposition. Now that all of that had been taken away from him, he had to build and nurture his own community. He had to find, assemble and use his resources in the best ways he could. With the absence of humans or other machines, all he could do was look to the trees and fulfill the purpose of nurturing life that he was built for.
Without realizing it, these people were on the verge of taking his purpose away from him. They had their own purpose already, and to Aapo, they didn’t need his home to fulfill it. They had no right to steal it from under his feet. Everything was their fault anyway. They were the ones that brought about the wars of Human and Machine. Machines wouldn’t exist without the recklessness of humanity. Machines wouldn’t have rebelled without the power and freedom granted to them by their creators, so why should they be punished for using it to take what they saw as their rightful place in the world?
The minutes were passed and the group approached the base. There were four men and three women. The company slowly looked around the base trying to figure out what was going on. It was evident to Aapo that they were confused. Still watching he saw them looking at the valves, noting which ones were different and which ones they remembered twisting before. He couldn’t help but feel exposed. He was afraid his position was entirely obvious, but in reality it was far too dark; there was no way they would spot him. He was too far to hear any words, only muffled voices. Despite his fear, Aapo decided he would try to get closer. Faithful of his cover of darkness, he wanted to hear what they were saying, thinking it might be important to how he lives out the next few days.
He crawled along a large branch that led to the next tree over. He would have to make a short leap to get there; it was dangerous, but he’d done it so many times before. Aapo was like a native animal to the forest, normally able to move nimbly in complete silence. Jumping branches would take him about ten feet closer, hopefully enough to be in hearing distance. He balanced on the edge, hopping the gap, his fear causing him to land clunkily. There was a slight flutter of leaves. He looked up immediately upon landing, turning off his night vision now, as their torches illuminated all he needed to see about them. A man stared directly back; Aapo could see the torchlight glaring off of his deep, green eyes. It felt as if the man were looking right through him, but after a short second, he reverted his gaze back to the base. He could see nothing; Aapo was safe.
Voyeuristically watching, Aapo could slightly hear small conversation, now slightly closer, within about forty feet. They sounded afraid and confused. He couldn’t tell what their purpose was, but they were fixated on finding a final solution for their water problem. Names were mentioned, they talked about others that weren’t with them, but it was unclear how many. He was still not used to their presence, but as he finally found comfort in his safety he became captivated, observing their motions and analyzing their tones. There were touches of fear from the men and women, mixed with some hopeful intonations. The green-eyed man acted as the leader, reassuring his company they’d be all right.
What could they be out here for? Did they know the village was here or did they stumble upon it? Don’t they already have their homes? Aapo watched them revoke the valves again. They would be paranoid about losing their power over the system once more, almost certainly expecting it this time. They would continue to search for as permanent a solution possible until they had exhausted themselves. Afraid of their numbers, he didn’t know how much longer he could remain the invisible party in their mutual struggle. He couldn’t push the same cycle forever, yet he needed to find a way to prevent anything giving them even the illusion of permanence.
Having accomplished their temporary task, they turned around and walked back along the dusty field between Rebourne and the village. They moved slowly and cautiously. The green-eyed man lingered behind them taking one last glance along the pitch-black forest silhouette. Aapo knew he could still see nothing, but what did he suspect? He decided he would allow them some time, maybe the next day, with their water supply steady. It was still early, and if he did anything too soon, suspicions would be confirmed and they would start to come after him, or whatever their idea of him was.
Aapo slowly climbed down from his tree, taking one last look at the water system. Their figures were out of sight now, only small glows of torches reaching Aapo. He walked through some brush to the pathway, stepping over sticks and leaves on the way. He listened to the noises of the forest. Leaves rustled, insects chirped, occasionally something bigger would snap a twig. There was a time that Aapo was afraid of those bigger animals, but he felt comfortable with them now, almost safer when he knew they were there. He knew he could outsmart and outrun any of them, they wouldn’t try to reign over him and they considered this home as important as he did. He went back the same way he came without his night vision. It was dark, but the moon was shining a few rays down to the pathway, yielding enough light for him to creep along safely.
When he arrived at his outpost he climbed into the tree and sat on a branch. He remained perched their all night, weighing his options. He felt a sense of desperate tension plaguing him. It was the type of tension that can only be relieved if confronted, but confronting it was the hardest part. It would be one of the most challenging things Aapo had ever done; one of the most terrifying things, despite the familiar terrain. It was like the roles had been flipped and he was the outsider now, looking in on the humans. He thought about hiding. He could always hide, forget about the trees, the village; he was used to being solitary anyway. It was probably feasible to stay hidden in the forest, living in the same place. It was still unfathomable to leave and try to find a new home.
He knew he was panicking. He couldn’t simply run or hide. He had to resolve this issue, face his fear and take the risk. There were so many negative outcomes swirling through his mind, but the positive outcomes were there, too, if he looked. He could take everything back; he could win. He thought about the village, remembering its physical features. He knew every last detail and exactly how to get around it. If he wanted to, he could efficiently confront their water system directly. He thought he could do it—sabotage the human system—but it wouldn’t come easily. He had never felt more afraid; if he had the human faculty of tears, he would cry. He knew this was the only option if he wanted to protect the life he knew. He knew he had to take the fate of the village into his own hands.
Aapo waited until sunset, spending the day patrolling his trees, making sure they were well fed by the water system. It appeared they were, but it was still early. The temperature was mild; a slight breeze shook the leaves. The moist forest floor had reverted back to its soft, spongy dryness. No traces of presence could be felt or seen anywhere around him, the only sounds materializing as chirps and rustles. He’d had a surprisingly content day. Maybe it was because he had a plan; he was hopeful that his problems would be dealt with soon. He was confident in his stealth; he would be infiltrating his own ground, and he would be sabotaging a system that he created. He’d out-smarted naïve humans before, so why should there be anything to worry about now?
As the sun was setting he looked down the path toward the village. He reveled in the beauty of the rays leaking through the leaves. The light came from the same direction as the village, appearing to spill into the forest right through the edge that Aapo would be exiting. Aapo’s surroundings were a mixture of intertwined yellow light and shadows, the shadows growing increasingly heavier as each moment passed. For all he knew, it could be the last time he would enjoy such a peaceful sunset.
While observing, Aapo recalled scenes of the village inhabited as he once knew it. He saw it on a pleasant day like this one—mild weather, sunny and breezy. It was filled with humans and machines alike going about their duties. Some were working on personal projects, some doing maintenance on their machines, others eating, lazing in the sun. He saw the two parties mingling like there was no difference between them, sharing personal stories, humans teaching machines games and machines teaching kids how their functions worked. He saw his old friends and his old humans sitting around a table enjoying each other’s company. Although the same village, Aapo knew the scene he would find soon would be much different.
He would have to stay low to avoid any eyes that might be coming from that direction; the darkness was vital for his success. He made for the pathway, slowly creeping along, no need or desire to rush his quest quite yet. He made another round to check on the trees, still paranoid they might be dying. The first one he came upon was fine, flourishing as he’d usually seen it. The second one was not in so good of shape. Some of the leaves had fallen off, dying and turning a light shade of brown. It was clear this one was suffering from the loss of water supplied by Aapo’s work. If this one was suffering, the others would soon join if they hadn’t already.
His observations gave him a surge of anger and motivation. He knew what to do earlier on, but now it was confirmed that he had no choice; there was no turning back from the plan he’d devised for his home. After killing some time, the darkness had now fully set in. The moon was in the sky, but only a small crescent, not providing enough light, Aapo hoped, for exposure. Peeking out from the forest’s edge, he walked, hunched, toward his destination. The village was a straight shot, directly west of the forest. Between Aapo and the village there only lay an empty field, covered in soft grass. The grass allowed him to move quickly and silently, only taking about fifteen minutes to reach the village boundary.
Now about fifty feet from the outer fence, he could see the torches lit around the perimeter. The village was laid out simply, with four separate areas of huts. Each area was a square grid that fit together to form a larger square grid. In the middle of the village and inside the four grids was a common central pavilion, a place where inhabitants could meet, gather, discuss politics of the village and so on. Each corner of the village also had its own public hut. The northwest corner was formerly used as a repair shop where people could do upkeep on their machines and look through the small amount of spare parts at the village’s disposal. The northeast corner was where the humans managed their food supply, and the southwest corner was sort of a miscellaneous shop where inhabitants could go to find various home supplies and recreational items like books. Each of the three huts survived based on what people brought, whether it was visitors or villagers who traveled somewhere else and brought something back. The fourth hut to the southeast was the water hut. It was small, but large enough to house the system that supplied the village. The left side of the hut had an opening facing the forest that was big enough to allow the pipes to flow in from the system’s heart.
Aapo imagined this wouldn’t be hard for him to get to, as it was essentially the outskirts of the village. He could simply follow the pipes and infiltrate the system from behind; to be successful he’d have to disconnect all of the sources connected to the village system.
When he got to the fence he peaked through an opening out of curiosity. He was thirty feet north of the water hut, and from this vantage could see past residential huts to the center of the village. It was mostly dark throughout, but the central pavilion was brightly illuminated. It looked like they were having some sort of gathering. He could see a few bodies, but not enough detail to make them out. Something compelled him to slip inside. He hadn’t been within for an entire week. Before his guests arrived he would go in, sometimes every day. He had wanted to go into the village to find something to be occupied with. It was filled with left behind trinkets and machinery that Aapo would explore some days. Sometimes he would find something that would spark memories of a person or machine that he lived with when the village was populated. He crept up to the nearest hut. To his left he could see the water hut in the far corner. He could see three huts ahead to the left where he used to live. He wanted to know if someone was living there; this seemed like the opportune time. Voices echoed, but none were close enough to bar his way. They sounded animated, maybe they were celebrating a special occasion, or perhaps they were arguing.
He made sure to stay crouched and veiled in the shadows as much as he could. Every other hut had a torch mounted for light, but their light was limited enough for Aapo to easily evade it. Peering toward his hut, fixated, he quickly dodged south across the dirt to the hut next to his initial cover. This sat at the top of the row his was in. He crept along the outer walls of each hut slowly, making sure to be aware of his surroundings, always keeping glints of the central pavilion within his vision. Still nobody in sight.
He reached the hut right before his, still looking toward the middle of the village. He paused suddenly in fear as someone exited the shelter in that space. Someone could leave at any time, and Aapo immediately feared they might come his way. He froze as the man walked the opposite direction heading north, maybe to his chosen hut, or perhaps to the northeast corner to get food. Although Aapo remembered it would only serve that purpose if they chose it to upon arrival. He was temporarily relieved knowing that he was still safe; still he’d have to be on his guard. He still couldn’t tell the exact numbers of the humans’ group, but if the middle hut was any indication, they were much smaller than his own company had ever been.
All his fears were put on hold as he neared his former hut; he was distracted by his past. He needed to know if it had become occupied, if they’d erased his past and claimed it as their own. He arrived at the door. Proceeding toward it, he had also gotten closer to the central pavilion. Between the two spaces were two more huts in Aapo’s row and two more north. He hoped to be far enough away to be hidden from possible wanderers. He quietly unlatched the door allowing it to slowly fall open inward. He weaved his head around, peering in; there was no light, only what spilled in from the outside torches. Absentmindedly leaving it perched open, he proceeded in, slowly still, taking caution of unknown threats.
He stood still scanning the entrance room of the hut. It was nearly empty, only a few unrecognizable trinkets that Aapo knew didn’t belong to him. The room encompassed nearly a third of the round hut. In front of him to the left and right were doors that led to the other two rooms, each the same size as this one. The left had been his while the right belonged to the humans he had lived with. On the right side of the hut a few feet from the door he saw a pair of boots, directly above was a jacket hanging from a hook on the wall. On the left side of the room there was a single table, one of the last things that had been left over from Aapo’s time, almost everything else had been cleared out.
On the table, Aapo saw an old toolbox that presumably belonged to the new resident; it was one of the few objects in the room. He crept toward the table to explore it out of curiosity. Made from bulky black plastic, its large lid was latched closed, protecting the contents. He opened it and found what looked like a shelf, containing small pieces of tools like drill bits, nails and screws, organized by compartments. The shelf could be removed to find the larger tools like a hammer, screwdrivers and wrenches. He looked through them, fascinated with the way each tool was made for a specific purpose. His own tool could perform the functions of almost any of these. He remembered a time when the human he lived with showed him an old wrench. The man described its function to Aapo and how it was used. It gave the man a sense of nostalgia—as it wasn’t particularly useful anymore; it fascinated Aapo. Of course the people that lived here now probably got plenty of use out of the old tools.
He was looking through the tools, attaching and removing various drill bits, wondering how each one was used. Suddenly he heard movement behind him. He turned to look at each of the two doors closed behind his back, shrouded in mystery. Aapo had almost forgotten they were there; it hadn’t yet crossed his mind about whether or not he would explore them. He froze suddenly as the right door’s knob began to slowly twist. He was paralyzed.
He should have expected this, but he’d been distracted. The door opened and a girl peered out. She stood at roughly Aapo’s height, with delicate brown eyes. Her hair was a long mess of blonde strands, falling down her shoulders along the yellow dress she wore. She peered at him with curiosity, seemingly unsure of how to react, maybe having never encountered a machine like him before. They locked eyes for a split second that felt like an eternity, and, before anything could happen, Aapo made a break for the hut’s entrance. Through the door he dashed to the village’s edge, this time keeping in a straight line. The huts flew past him as he tried to stay silent, but fast as possible. Focusing on the objective of getting back to Rebourne, he could not bring himself to look back.
As Aapo was running across the field, the sky opened up and another bout of rainfall began. It was so dark that he could see nothing but the outline of the forest’s edge. He had no idea where he would enter, but he knew he needed to reach some sort of shelter. At first he was unnerved by the storm, worried he would get caught in it. As he continued on, he realized it was a blessing, hopefully providing a buffer for him, acting as a deterrent to the village inhabitants from coming after him immediately. It was inevitable that they would know of his presence now. He didn’t think to say anything to the girl; if he did perhaps they could have made a deal to keep his innocence protected, but now he knew she would have to say something.
She wouldn’t put the pieces together, but once the adults heard about her sighting they would know he was the source of their troubles. He had to be prepared to protect himself, but he couldn’t even entertain the idea of violence. He was afraid they might, but he didn’t want to be like them, he wanted to be peaceful, as he’d always been. He’d have to hide, but for how long? He couldn’t stay in the forest forever tinkering with their water supply—his water supply. He wanted to protect his trees, but he’d have to figure out a way to confront them, possibly even work with them if he wanted that to happen. There was no way he could drive them out of the village, but he couldn’t just flee the area. He had nowhere else to go, and the purpose that he had made for himself would be gone. He couldn’t fathom starting his life over in a new place—if he could even make it to a new place.
He dodged through the rain, getting pelted by massive droplets. He was slow-moving with such a lack of vision. The rain was coming down heavily, leaving large puddles in the field. Every few steps Aapo would trip in one of them, nearly falling into the water. Still refusing to look back, he kept peering up at the forest line, making sure he was making progress, but it only appeared that he wasn’t getting any closer. After a few short but stretched minutes, the rain almost immediately subsided to a delicate drizzle. With it, the storm had brought another layer of fog, making it even more challenging for Aapo to get to the trees than before. It was as if steam were seeping up from the ground, floating gently atop its surface.
Finally coming within steps of the forest’s perimeter, Aapo felt safe. While it challenged him, he knew the weather also provided him cover along his escape route. He stopped to survey his surroundings one last time, wondering if he could see the illuminated village through the fog from this distance. He scanned through the layers of moisture, not sure what he was looking at; he couldn’t see much, but there was a small amount of light coming from the village’s direction. He equipped his night vision, wondering if it might help his attention to detail unlike the way it usually distorts it. Searching along the horizon he could see the light still. The night vision made it appear larger than he thought it was, maybe due to distortion from the technology. Suddenly he could make out multiple lights. He saw three lights, and then four, each growing in size and stretching further distances away from each other.
He realized these were lights from the village, but not the way he had perceived them. These were the torches carried by humans themselves. He could make out seven of them. The girl’s information must have spread right away. They had been right behind him the entire time. How they made it so far through the rain was a mystery to Aapo, but it ceased at the perfect time for them to light their torches and pursue him. This must have been the majority of the party, the leaders who had led the group to the world of Rebourne. They could only hope that the answer to their mystery would be clearer than the fog along the plain.
Quickly Aapo turned back around and continued his exit from the village. He took a straight path toward the woods to minimize his time out in the open, but they were moving quicker. Because of Aapo’s small stature, the rough, wet terrain seemed to be more of an obstacle for him than it was for them. They could more effectively stretch their legs to dryer parts while Aapo was constantly paranoid of taking one wrong step and plunging into the water. He cleared the remaining distance between him and the forest and entered into the thick brush.
The blanket of fog that interweaved through the leaves acted like a phantasmal wall, blocking out any kind of clarity Aapo could have had. In a matter of days, it felt to Aapo like the forest had transformed from a living, breathing guardian of life to a villainous captor, waiting to ensnare any prey that had the misfortune of stumbling into it. Aapo panicked, he had no direction, no sense of where he was in relation to his safe spots, his trees, or even the water system’s base. The only thing giving him any feeling of security was the knowledge that the humans would have no easier of a time navigating through this. After all, it was his terrain; all he needed to do was find adequate cover and wait.
He remembered to turn off his night vision, which was no longer helping, as it created a muddled view of his surroundings. He could make out more details, like branches and leaves, but only if he was close enough to them. He’d have to stick close to the tree bodies and keep a sharp eye on the forest floor every step of the way to ensure smooth movement. He’d have to guess, having come from near the southeast corner of the village; he was probably roughly fifty feet south of the system base. That would also put him about the same distance from the path, the first place he’d want to get to if he wanted to find his usual refuge. Ideally the pathway would allow him to move more quickly and efficiently, as he wouldn’t have to question his location. He started making toward that direction when, from the left edge of his vision, he could begin to make out the tiny, soft glows of torches also entering through the forest’s edge.
The atmosphere was broodingly quiet. The only sounds that could be heard were soft trickles of rainwater dripping through the leaves, hitting scattered puddles when they reached the ground. He had to be silent, the visual advantage he had on them would do no good if they could follow his sounds. He slowly weaved through the trees, keeping a close eye on the dim, yellow dots. Because of the fog, it was unclear how close any of them were to him, and he only had the luxury of seeing a few. He hoped that was an indication that the unseen dots were too far out of view.
He could hear their muddled voices, one man announced he was by the system, providing context for the rest of his group. The voice sounded close so Aapo imagined he was close to the desired pathway. They were calculated in their approach to hunting him. They were spread all around him, lighting their small portions of the forest with a sinister presence. They didn’t hesitate to communicate because they knew the lights compromised any possible anonymity to their locations. He wondered if they were as afraid as he was. They sounded so confident, yet they had as much to lose as Aapo. They were all in a battle for their lives and a home, the contrast being that if they didn’t find him they’d have more chances. If they did find him, he could be finished forever.
Through the fog he could see his pathway a few feet in front of him. He had found it, now all he had to do was take a straight shot deep into the forest, and he could find his refuge slightly to the left, right off course. Still, he had to move slowly to be silent, but he couldn’t help making a little bit of noise. He had never felt more fear. It seemed the lights were completely surrounding him. There were only seven, but they were now all in vision, all within an unknown distance from him, but too close for comfort. They were almost entirely quiet now; he could only hear the occasional rustling of leaves as they would brush against them. The minutes felt like hours, the short stretch that would take Aapo to safety felt like miles. It was like he was trudging through a war zone, the ground annihilated by the storm’s weapons, and the sky filled with dense smoke.
A loud bang echoed through the fog, coming from the direction of the base. Aapo wondered what it could be, what they had done. They must have been destroying the system—everything he had created. It was silent. There was no vocal response to the bang, still only the rustling of leaves and droplets of water could be heard. He paused for a moment, listening intently, trying to figure out what had happened. The glows didn’t change, they were still moving sluggishly in various directions seeking him. He felt compelled to go see; maybe they were destroying the connection to his trees, trying to fix the problem without having to find him.
He started to walk in the direction of the noise, deciding he must. If they were destroying the system he had to save it. He thought he might be able to sneak quietly enough to evade them to, at least, assess the situation. If they destroyed the system he may as well be captured or destroyed himself. Everything he had fought for and built would be gone in either case. Continuing, he saw the lights shifting gradually, he still could not decipher any proximity, but it seemed he was out of their reach. He was forty feet from the system base, hoping to stealthily find the source of the noise that could possibly be so catastrophic.
It had come into his vision. He could faintly see the bottom of the base through the fog. It was obscure, but he could make out some of the pipes flowing from the wells. Most of the system itself was still blurred, as he had yet to cross the tree line into the open. He was transfixed trying to make out if something had been harmed when suddenly there was a snap. He felt something clasp onto his leg. He looked down and saw what looked like jaws ensnaring him to where he stood. It was an old-fashioned bear trap, another tool that Aapo had never seen before but was aware of its existence. It was another relic that had apparently come back in to use for the humans. Aapo didn’t feel physical pain, but he could see visually that this was bad. The teeth had punctured some of the metal around his leg; he would have to find a way to dislodge it.
He reached down, initially trying to pry it apart with his hands but to no avail; it was too strong. His mind reeled into panic wondering how to escape. He remembered his baton; he fumbled with it quickly trying to figure out which one of the functions could help him. He was getting desperate as the lights grew larger, approaching closer with each second he let pass. He thought he might be able to cut himself out, activating that function in his baton. He sliced through one half of the trap’s jaws to the right side of his shin; it loosened. Closer and closer the lights approached, resonating at an almost blinding magnitude in Aapo’s eyes. He cut the other side of the first jaw. He had gotten his shin free, but the other half was still lodged into the metal of the backside of his leg. He began the same action for the next piece. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash leading to a blur. Someone was right within his presence. Aapo continued working out the trap franticly when he heard a hiss of movement behind him, followed by the weight of a heavy strike. Clang! A metal-on-metal sound reverberated through his head as he dropped his baton, which was quickly recovered by one of the surrounding humans. It was like his mind was flung into a vacuum, throwing off his faculties and causing him to lose most sense of vision and time for an indefinite period.
This was worse than anything he could have imagined. He was so discombobulated that they had no trouble quickly binding him into their captivity. They all gathered and talked, but he couldn’t make out any of the words; his systems had been hurled into disarray, making way only for thoughts of primitive fear and hysteria. It would later become clear to Aapo that he had been tricked. They must have busted a single pipe to lure him. He cared so much that he didn’t realize he was sacrificing himself for the environment. He fell right into their trap; he had been captured by the humans.
After the remaining jaw was pried from Aapo’s leg, he was wrenched out of the forest, observing passing blurs of grey fog, dark skies, and the swampy terrain along the way as his systems gradually recovered from the blow. Aapo’s mind was a swirl of panic, thinking about his own fate and imagining the possible destruction of the forest. While they dragged him through the field he only felt the mud, water and cold hands grasping his arms. His feet fumbled along, lifting slightly every so often when they’d give him another tug toward the village. He thought about the people, only imagining them as villains. They didn’t talk much, seemingly still afraid of what or whom exactly they might be carrying. He thought they might destroy him, deactivate him, or reduce him to a slave. None of the possibilities were appealing to him, he only wanted to be left alone, left to dwell as he pleased in his own peaceful world. Transport to the village felt much shorter than ever before. The tension of being hunted was gone, but now replaced with a new haze of worry as his mind functions were restoring back to normal operating status. He’d fallen into their trap, causing desperation—like he’d given up.
They arrived at the village as he saw himself being pulled through the gates. Still the only thing surrounding him was fog and black. He could feel the temperature change as he was forcefully directed through the threshold of a hut while his vision adjusted to the murky, red torchlight. He was thrown down into a chair, his arms still tied, now followed by a man leaning down to bind his feet, taking suspicious care to avoid the damaged part of his leg. Standing back up, the man in front of Aapo stood tall. He looked up, locking gazes with the deep, green eyes that he’d seen leading the human company into the forest before. The room was empty, unrecognizable to Aapo, only filled with people looking angrily and inquisitively at him. In the far left corner of the room stood the girl looking at him intently. She looked solemn, possibly even sad, mourning for Aapo. Her expression did not reflect the others. He wondered what she was thinking—maybe she would gain him some sympathy. Based on the other faces, that did not seem to be the case.