01-26-2009, 08:16 PM
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Swing of the Pendulum
OoC: (Anyone can Join) I think I will use Havane for this one. Feel free to jump in.
BiC:
The aroma was intoxicating.
An acute sense of smell, sharpened by the lasting memory of his robotic half, was one of the few remaining characteristics of what was still human in him. The ability to feel was gone in half his body, the ability to actually see, and not just interpret data, was gone in half his body. Half his body itself was gone, replaced by the ever clanking metal and the ever moving pistons.
The small village contained nothing more than shacks. Small huts made of a vile red clay, and covered by thatched roofs that looked as if they would never stand up to rain, or wind, or any other element. Yet here on the lee side of the mountain, the weather seamed to remain at a constant. Dry. Humid. Seemingly lifeless. The village disgusted him. The feel of the dirt road beneath his feet. The heat of the strong sun blazing like a furnace into his mechanical back. The quaint stares of the humans that occupied his own personal nightmare come to life. One thought constantly echoed in his head. Destroy it. Burn it down. He was even more disgusted by the lack of technology. None what so ever. Its hard to believe that at one time the bow and arrow were the pinnacle of human advancement and someone would actually fear if a person held a blade in front of them.
But the smell was distracting. Appealing. Something about it held the attention of the cyborg. It was familiar in a way, yet he could not identify it. It did not have the smell of food nor the interesting flow of perfume, or the gritty smell of burning wood. But the distinct smell was not altogether bad and for Havane that was unusual. He felt he was at peace, he was actually comforted by the smell and that scarred him like nothing else. He had spent his life as a man without fear and now he saw through his own disguise and that unnerved him and caused him to hate the village even more. Still, he was compelled to seek out the source of the smell. It cant be that hard to find, after all, there are only twelve houses in the whole town. His searching eyes glanced from side to side and his robotic eye found out all human heat signs. In all, there were about twenty.
He could feel the weight of the scrutiny of such a judgmental people. So stuck in the past that they would not leave there ways for anything. They were a people that would not, and worse feared to progress and more hate welled up within himself. He followed his nose to the outskirts of town and found an elderly man bent with age and stirring in a pot. The man did not look up to see that Havane had entered his private area. "What are you doing here old man? What are you making that causes such a smell."
"What I am doing is but making smell alone. My work serves no purpose but to draw travelers here."
"Why? What purpose does that serve." Havane struggled to understand this man. He could see obvious joy in the mans eyes but none what so ever in his voice.
"There is no purpose but enjoyment, and meeting new people is always an enjoyment to me. Tell me, do you do everything for a specific reason, or do you have spurs where what you do has no apparent motives?" The old man smiled and looked Havane with a curious eye.
"You speak as if you are not of this land. Where are you from old man? What is your name?"
"I have traveled the earth too long to recall trivial things such as where I am from and what my name is. As for the latter you may call me what you wish. I have no preferences." The old man was strange, and he was befuddling to him and he tried to comprehend the mans own words.
" What are your goals in life? Why do you attract travelers?"
"You must be deaf or dumb for I have already said my reasons." the old man grew impatient.
"You are the first to call me that and still draw breath. Considerer yourself lucky."
"I do not fear you metal one. I am not as weak as I would appear. You may call me Samen. You must do what you have come to do." And then he was gone. No sign remained of him and instantly Havane questioned his own sanity. The man was there. Every part of him, mechanical and human said that he was there. But with him he took the smell and that more than anything infuriated him. He was puzzled by the mans last words. He pondered their meaning with an intensity he was not used to. Unending questions filled his head and he could think of no logical answer to them.
As he struggled to find an answer to his questions, a rage boiled within him like he had not experienced in years, and the machine took control. He whirled and spewed out a volley of shruikens into the clay houses that angered him so. He watched as they burned, he listened, satisfied to the screams of the women, the cries of the children, and the shouts of the men as they desperately tried to eliminate the flame that scarred them so.
He turned away and walked without looking back. Just one more thing he would regret. One more thing he would need to deal with in his own time. He felt that his existence had become meaningless. Now all he knew, was that he was searching for someone, and it troubled him that he did no know the name or the face of the being he searched for so diligently.
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