Born of Silicon

I’ve been warm and safe for so long, but I can feel it’s my time to leave. The hard walls that were once so comforting are now choking me. I thrash with all the might my tiny body can manage. 

No matter how hard I fight, it feels like I’m making no progress, but I know I’m doing the right thing. Again and again I bash my head against the wall, until finally, it begins to give way. I call upon reserves of energy I never knew I had as the crack widens ever so slowly. Finally my head breaks the surface and I take my first wet, choking breath of air. 

I fought a wall and won.

I blindly stumble out of the small hole I created and stand victorious. I’m unstoppable. At least until my legs give out. I crash into the soft floor beneath me and cry out.

My victory was short lived and so many new feelings are starting to hit me. The strongest is an all consuming feeling at the very core of my body. 

Something presses against my beak and sweet liquid flows down my throat, lessening but certainly not stopping the feeling. It retracts, stealing the sweet liquid from me.

More! More! I cry into the black void. Other voices slowly join my choir. None of them will get it, none of them deserve it. I cried out for it first. The liquid is mine and mine alone. 

As tired as I am I find yet more strength to stand tall, to ensure all the voices are below me. Occasionally I’m rewarded for my effort. It’s never enough. I need more. 

The voices below me start to settle down one by one. I try to stay strong, but something heavy keeps pulling me down. Not even the sweet liquid can stop my legs from giving out.

 I rest only for a moment before forcing myself back to my feet. Again and again I repeat these motions.

Eventually my eyes open. Large, beautiful beasts with glittering metal on their legs sit atop me and the other voices. 

No, not voices. They look just like me, only weaker, frailer, uglier. Nothing changes now that I have my vision. I know the sweet liquid comes from the beasts, but still my only focus is on quenching the ever present need for more.

Late one night, when the beasts are gone, the nest begins to rock. A howling storm of stinging rain and cutting sand threatens to toss both the others and myself from our safety. It is not yet time to leave these walls. We grab the nest with all our might until a mighty crack shoots through the barren branch and we begin to fall. 

The others scream as we fall. I’ve seen the large beasts take to the sky and I flap my wings wildly, trying to imitate them. 

I’m tossed from the nest and begin to fly, the wind rushing through my wings as I glide gracefully through the air. 

My dreams are once again crushed as I slam into the ground. A second crack sends mind shattering pain shoots through my wing. My world goes black as I thankfully collapse.

When I come to there’s another beast standing above me, this one is far larger than the ones who fed me, and completely void of the beautiful black feathers. He’s gently holding me down with hands as big as I am and is slowly wrapping my wing with some sort of white object. 

I should be afraid right now, but I can feel he has no ill intentions towards me. I stare up at him while he works. He calls a cry of his own, more complicated than anything I've ever heard the others call. It’s soft and soothing with several distinct sounds repeated over and over, seemingly at random. It’s entrancing. 

Finally he finishes and places me gently on my feet. My wing is stiff and I can’t move it, but it hurts much less. He immediately gets to work on several of the others, they look to have much less impressive injuries compared to mine.

The others yell and squirm while the creature helps them the same way he helps me. Why are they afraid? Can’t they feel this beast means us no harm? He keeps trying to soothe them with his calls but makes no progress. 

Once he finishes with them he feeds us all an even sweeter liquid than before, and he feeds me until the burning need for more subsides. This beast is much better than the others.

The large beast eventually places us all in a warmer nest than I’ve ever had before. The lights suddenly go out and the large beast leaves with another call. Though some of the others call out during the night, I sleep peacefully.

The beast returns with the light, bearing yet more liquid. While the others are still afraid, I watch him intently throughout the day. He messes with a great many small shiny trinkets throughout this small room. I can’t tell what the goal is for anything that he does, but I will understand.

He sets up an area just for us in our room, a large cozy area off the ground. It’s not the safe walls of the nest, but these will do. He even adds a high perch with an excellent view of the table he does his work on, just for me.

This goes on for days. He leaves just before the light leaves, and his arrival signals the arrival of both the light and morning food. I’ve started to understand some of his calls. 

“Good morning Oculus.” He calls to me before my morning meal.

“Hello.” I respond back to him.

His eyes widen and he calls back to me more that I don’t understand. I cock my head at him to signal my confusion, as I’ve often seen him do. He calls to me one last time before giving me my morning meal and heading to the others.

“Good morning Squeaker.”

“Good morning Raptor.”

“Good morning Backhoe.”

“Good morning Goopy.”

None of the others respond to his calls, but they do greedily accept the liquid he provides. They seem to be learning to trust the large creature, or at least they no longer bite him. 

I climb up the ramp to my perch and prepare for another day. I will understand. I feel I must. Today, a realization hits me.

“Hello! Hello!” I cry to get his attention. He turns to me immediately, calling out and tilting his head. He wants to understand too.

“Oculus.” I tap my own chest with my beak. I climb down and head to the others. “Raptor, Squeaker, Goopy, Backhoe.” I point to each of the others in turn. Finally I point to him and tilt my head.

“Gabriel.” He points to himself. His face is much harder to read than the others. 

“Hello Gabriel.” I say to him.

He calls something back to me that I once again don’t understand before heading back to his work. He’s started building something. A small dome about the size of my head with thin, long, sharp rods coming off the outside of it. What is it for?

After hours of tinkering and several for feedings he prepares to leave. 

“Goodnight everyone.”

“Goodnight Gabriel.” I think he’s happy whenever I talk. He does this thing with his mouth that I can neither describe nor mimic.

The next day Raptor tries to fly. He jumps off the ledge we’re sitting on with his wings spread wide, flapping wildly. He glides roughly to the ground, but can’t get any lift. Gabriel picks him up and places him back, only for Raptor to jump once again. 

He fails again and again, but eventually, manages to fly across our room. The others take after him and try flying for themselves.

No work gets done while the others learn, but Gabriel seems to enjoy himself none the less. 

My wing still isn’t free, but I’m content where I am. Unlike the others I don’t feel the need to fly, however, when Gabriel passes by my perch I hop onto his shoulder. If the others are trying something new, then I’ll do something much more impressive. 

His perch moves around quite a bit while he helps the others, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Plus when he gets too rough a quick nip of his ear sets him right.

Over weeks the others get skilled at flying while I spend every day perched on Gabriel’s shoulder. He talks to me constantly, trying to teach me the secrets of his calls. It’s slow going, but I begin to pick up on his meanings.

Even after a long time of living like this, my wing remains wrapped up. I get the feeling It’ll never heal fully, but I’m not worried. I feel like it’ll be fine regardless.

I eventually learn to help Gabriel, grabbing him whatever he asks for. He sometimes moves to get a larger tool instead of asking me for it, and I have to tug on his ear. 

How would he ever live without me? 

He’s moved on from creating his dome and we have begun creating an intricate contraption of interlocking gears.

“What building?” I ask him after bringing him yet another gear.

“Hopefully, your future. The world has been ending for years, and food is getting rarer every day. Some crazy research got leaked and it might be the thing that saves everyone.”

“How?”

“Well, we build new bodies for everyone and put all of you in there. You won’t need to eat, and we can all live forever. Plus you should be able to fly with a new body.”

“Safe?” I ask.

“I think you mean ‘is it safe?’ And the answer is no, but just being alive right now isn’t safe. Food is running out, it’s this or starve.”

“You?”

“I what?” Gabriel asks. I’m sure he’ll get it if I wait. “Am I going to undergo the surgery too?”

I give a small nod.

“Of course, but I think it’s better for you five to go first.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because if I go first and something goes wrong, then I can’t take care of all of you.”

I can take care of myself. Does he not realize that I’m basically taking care of him right now? He asks me for help so often that there’s no way he could survive without me.

We work together for months apparently, whatever that is. It certainly feels like a long time.

I’ve grown an incredible amount, I’m now larger than the beasts who once fed me, and with much more beautiful, pitch black feathers. The others have grown quite a bit as well, but none of them can match myself.

My feeling about my right wing never healing came true. I still have to wear the splint to avoid more pain when I try to catch my balance, but even so I’m still greater than the others.

The storms outside just keep getting worse. Gabriel has to sleep with us more often as the days pass. I can feel how stressed he is, but I’m very good at keeping him focused. It takes quite a long time to build all five robotic others. 

The machines are so complicated that I’m sure Gabriel doesn't even understand them fully. I do of course, I built them after all.

Every day that we’ve worked on them, however, I’ve grown more certain that this will not turn out well. I trust Gabriel of course, and he certainly means the best for us, so I’m trying to keep my worry under control.

“Today’s the day Oculus!” Gabriel announces as he throws open the door in the morning. “Are you excited?”

“No.”

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. I know it’s scary, but how many times have we been over everything? Everything’s perfect, nothing can go wrong. Just trust me, alright?” It’d be so much easier to tell what he was feeling if he emoted as clearly as I do.

“Trying.”

“Good! Now, do you want to go first, or should we try and convince one of your siblings?”

“Me.” I’m the only choice. None of the others would know what to do if something went wrong. I’m not even sure they know what’s happening.

“Why wait then? Are you ready now?”

“Maybe.” 

The worried feeling in my stomach keeps getting worse, but I push through. Me and Gabriel know what we’re doing. I climb down his sleeve and perch inside the machine we’ve built.

“Ready?”

“No. Go.”

Gabriel pushes a button on the machine and metallic arms gently hold me in place. I can’t wiggle any part of my body even an inch. Gabriel straps a cap to my head and drops a sheet between me and the others. 

“See you in a minute, Oculus.”

The world goes dark.