Been awhile since i last posted, generally i have not much to contribute to the world of gunpla, however this idea occured to me recently so here goes.
This is gonna be a very wordy post, with no pretty pictures, read or don't read its really up to you lol, its a rather abstract and bleak short story.
hope you enjoy :p
The dull hazy sun gently washed over the landscape, harshly bearing down upon the figures toiling on it. A soft glow surrounds beautiful spires and majestic mounds as the reflected sunlight creates a masterpiece out of the scrap metals in this waste dump. Mesmerised momentarily by the sight, the girl is roused from reverie by the overseer's harsh words, and returned to work.
A waste deposit site, where waste are sorted into categories and recycled, is run by slave androids and artificial humans, some created for this purpose, some for other chores and previous owners, who abandoned them. They are, like the waste they sort, recycled. This place is where she spent every day of her life, where her memories extended to, though she can recall faint outlines and impressions, of warmth and love and family. These memories too are slipping away as she lost count of how many years she has spent in this labour camp.
She had not shared these memories with anyone, after all it was unprecedented for an artificial human to have childhood memories let alone such things as childhoods, for they came into existence as able bodied young adults. It would brand her as odd should she let others know, it always seemed insignificant and uncertain, just like her existence.
She was not confident, rarely did she speak to her peers, indeed most of them were similar, and even more infrequently did she speak to her superiors. However, she was well educated, even possessing the ability to read and possibly write, though she never had the chance to use that skill. Occasionally she would find remains of text among the waste, these she would stash way and read at opportune times. During the night before she drifted off to sleep was the time she gets to spend with her treasures.
In her hovel amidst the other slaves she travelled the world, transcending space and even time. Reading by solely the moonlight, she learnt of ages past, the brutality of the crusades, a bloody war between men with conflicting beliefs, unholy deeds committed in a holy name. She read of great musicians, living ordinary lives yet also immortalised in beautiful art that resonated throughout the world for centuries to come. None of which were appreciated anymore, so she could only imagine their sounds. She was fascinated by economy, inflation, depression, lack of jobs, a war that was fought not with weapons but wealth, all the more dangerous. She was horrified at the cruelty the Jews endured at the hands of Hitler during the Second World War, every page she read she learnt more of mankind's true identity and flaws. She empathised towards the humans enslaved by sentient machines and advanced AI, being used as an energy source as they lived in illusions. She lived in royal castles that were rightfully hers by blood, rescued at every turn by a handsome nameless prince, the beauty of love. Unable to distinguish between truth and fiction, she absorbed it all with a childlike purity and innocence, believing everything. She would shed tears of joy and sadness, and cry herself to sleep, not out of desire but sheer exhaustion from the day's labour, and she would dream, where she lived in fantastic lands, free of the bonds of slavery, and sometimes even with her family from her faint memories. She wished she was born in one of her stories instead.
No one paid her any heed, even the slaves frowned upon her treasures, books they called it with distaste, was long replaced technology, information record and storage was too inefficient in books, they said. This suited her well, as they left her possessions alone. However, books of faraway and unknown lands weren't the only things she read, recent issues and opinions regarding artificial humans and android creation and slavery were abundant. Many voices spoke against it, deeming it immoral and unethical, arguing for the rights of the oppressed, however it was undeniable their usefulness and their futures appeared bleak. True enough, as time progressed fewer voices existed, replaced by other issues, such as recycling and resources of the planet, migration to another planet would be costly and should be avoided, hence employing the slaves for recycling quieted down the remaining spokespeople.
These did not elicit much of an emotional response in her, instead she impassively registered the articles that spelled her doom, she had long accepted her fate and admitted defeat, on the contrary, she felt detached and distant from these articles and closer and more relevant with her treasured books. She had read of the ancient Egyptians, whom had used slaves much as the way she is working, to construct monuments of awe and wonderfulness, the pyramids. There was much suffering and cruelty inflicted upon the slaves, however it would have been impossible to create pyramids of such magnitude without slaves. Similarly she concede her fate as one of the oppressed who's suffering leads to greatness.
Through this similarity, she also discovered irony, that the situation she was in, was just simply a repetition of what took place millennia ago, that after all of mankind's progression and development, they have only been going around in circles, enhancing one aspect of their life while deteriorating another.
In a few years time, this girl who's name no one remembers will die in the labour camp, her frail body reaching its limit, long deserted by her spirit and hope, her soul could no longer withstand the pressure and bleakness. An insignificant passing to all, for none knew about her, none knew of the injustice she endured as a human being in a slave labour camp, save herself, who had realised she did not belong there, but also understood none of the other beings with consciousness deserved to be there either. And thus she endured, and passed, unnoticed into oblivion, the one who knew mankind best, looked into the past, experienced the present and understood what they were becoming, the last with the potential to rescue them from their doom.
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