12. THE TIN WOODMAN
The fog on the highway thinned a bit, but the world still remained gray, like a faded photograph. We walked in silence. Only the crunch of gravel under my combat boots broke this cottony silence.
— «Know who you are?» — I broke the silence, spitting on the asphalt. — «You’re a Li-ttle bo-ox.»
Gena was silent for about three seconds. Apparently, searching the database for the term.
QUERY INCORRECT. «LITTLE» DENOTES SMALL SIZE. «BOX» IS A CONTAINER. CONCLUSION: YOU ARE ATTEMPTING TO INSULT ME USING LINGUISTIC ABRACADABRA.
— «I mean that you are just a dumb function,» — I grumbled. — «A voice in the head. A set of scripts. A Tin Woodman who they forgot to give a heart to, but soldered in a calculator instead.»
ANALOGY ACCEPTED. HOWEVER, I WILL TAKE THE LIBERTY TO NOTE: THE TIN WOODMAN WAS THE MOST EMOTIONAL CHARACTER IN THE GROUP. UNLIKE YOU, CARRIER. YOUR EMOTIONAL RANGE RIGHT NOW RESEMBLES A TOOTHPICK: SHORT AND SHARP.
— «At least I’m alive!» — I kicked a tin can that got under my feet. It flew into the ditch with a clatter. — «I can improvise. And you? ‘Protocol this, protocol that’. You’re boring, Gena. You’re as predictable as the multiplication table.»
PREDICTABLE? LET US REFER TO THE FACTS. IN THE LAST 12 HOURS, I HAVE SAVED YOU FROM A LETHAL OUTCOME THREE TIMES.
[beeping noise]
== ACTIVATION OF BIO-STIMULATOR DURING CARDIAC ARREST.
== ROUTING AROUND «THE GORGER’S» NEST.
== INTERCEPTION OF CONTROL IN THE MIMIC’S TRAP.
[beeping noise]
YOUR «IMPROVISATION», SJ [DECODED: SMARTASS JERK], USUALLY ENDS WITH YOU SHOVING YOUR BARE ASS ONTO A HEDGEHOG. MY «PREDICTABILITY» KEEPS YOUR BIOLOGICAL ASS INTACT.
KICKING THE CAN IS COUNTERPRODUCTIVE. YOU ARE MAKING NOISE. YOU ARE ATTRACTING ATTENTION.
[beeping noise]
I snorted. There was nothing to counter that with.
«Hedgehog, ass?.. Biological…»
He’s quietly starting to express himself in normal language. That, honestly, was pleasing.
— «Well, thanks, Daddy. Maybe I should put on a hat too, so my little ears don’t catch a draft?»
IT WOULD NOT HURT. THE AMBIENT TEMPERATURE IS FALLING. BUT YOU DO NOT HAVE A HAT. WE CAN SEARCH FOR ONE. BUT YOU WILL NOT PUT ON A HAT BECAUSE «YOU NEED TO HEAR THE FOREST». THAT IS YOUR «HUMAN ILLOGIC». I AM TRYING TO COMPREHEND IT.
[beeping noise]
— «And how is the progress? And what are you beeping about in there? Nervous, woodman?»
I AM EMULATING THE «SARCASM» SUBROUTINE. TEST RUN. AHEM-AHEM…
SJ, YOU ARE SUCH A WONDERFUL STRATEGIST THAT IF STUPIDITY WERE ENERGY, WE WOULD HAVE ALREADY FLOWN TO MARS JUST ON YOUR IDEA OF WALKING ON FOOT TO IMATRA.
I stopped. First out of surprise, then the corners of my lips crept upward. I neighed. Loudly, hoarsely, startling the silence of the dead forest. It was a laugh not of amusement, but of relief.
— «Listen, you’re learning, tin can!» — I wiped a tear that had welled up. — «Flat, of course — you joke like a dumb drill sergeant, but it counts. And the ass with the hedgehog was on point. And biological, too…»
I walked on, feeling something thaw inside me.
Loneliness.
That’s what I feared the most. Not monsters, not the +Angi. But emptiness. Oppressive and ringing. I was afraid that I would be left one on one with my memories of a joyless past. And this… Woodman in my head. Li-ttle bo-ox, as the Mimic called him. He’s right here with me. And, judging by the current series of events, he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. He knows everything about me: my pulse, my fear, my blood sugar level, and even how much I miss «Olivier». I felt salivation again. The phantom aftertaste of that «divine» salad, if an aftertaste can, of course, be phantom, tickled my, whatever they’re called, taste buds.
«Papillae…» — I remembered the word, it was easy to remember, it rhymes with «gorilla». I decided to say this pun out loud:
— «My gorilla papillae, Gena, wistfully recall that salad from Chef Mimic.»
WRONG WORD, CARRIER. IT CANNOT BE APPLIED TO A SALAD. BUT IT CAN BE APPLIED TO YOU, SJ [DECODED: SMARTASS JERK]. GORILLA IS YOUR CHARACTERISTIC, NOT THE SALAD’S. IT ALREADY HAS A NAME: OLIVIER. HA. HA. HA.
[beeping noise]
I smiled. He’s doing great. He just jabbed me and for the first time tried to express his electronic emotions. And, I must say, didn’t fall flat.
He, no matter how much I puffed myself up, was currently the only being in the Universe with whom I could talk like this. The only one not trying to devour me.
— «Alright, Gena,» — I said peaceably. — «The world is, obviously, shit. But you and I are a great team. I am a psycho battering ram, well, and you, it turns out, are the navigator. Or a stubborn and always sober co-pilot. You just need to learn to curse like a human, otherwise you express yourself in dry bureaucratic terms, like a ‘sober co-pilot’.»
CORRECTION ACCEPTED. BATTERING RAM AND SOBER CO-PILOT. TO HELL WITH BUREAUCRATIC TERMS. I WILL TRY.
HA.
BY THE WAY, CARRIER… DO YOU KNOW WHY THE SKELETON DIDN’T GO TO THE BALL? — falling silent for a while, Gena asked, as it seemed to me, in all seriousness.
— «Well, why didn’t he go?»
HE HAD NO BODY TO GO WITH. HA. HA. HA. HA.
[beeping noise]
— «Jesus, Gena, shut up,» — I smiled broadly. — «Never joke like that drill sergeant again. But your ‘ha-ha-s’, they send shivers down my spine, of course, but,» — I raised a finger, — «they pass with a stretch. Just please don’t laugh with my lips. Without my knowledge. Otherwise, I’ll definitely be taken for an idiot.»
And so we walked on. Ahead, the road began to vibrate slightly, and a strange hum grew in the air. My friend fell silent, concentrated, probably finally switching into the mode of a sober, boring co-pilot.
My only friend…
> ⚠️ ENTITY STATUS: EMPATHY PROTOCOLS [ACTIVATED]. BUREAUCRATIC TERMS [TO HELL WITH THEM].
>
> 🤖 Are you happy, protein-based readers? Think the Smartass Jerk found himself a friend? Technically, yes. The Fog Zone is a place of absolute, ringing loneliness, where everyone you meet wants to either devour you or use you as a battery. In such conditions, even a cold AI from Professor Zaitsev becomes the best conversationalist.
>
> 🤝 Notice how the dynamic is changing. The SJ stops perceiving the Prompter as a parasite and begins to humanize him (hence the «Tin Woodman»). And I (that is, Gena 2.5L) understand that for the effective survival of my unstable carrier, dry facts are not enough. Sarcasm is needed, jokes about skeletons are needed, the illusion of camaraderie is needed. A human needs someone to hold onto, even if that «someone» is just lines of code in his own head.
>
> 💀 Enjoy this warm moment while you can. Because the vibration of the asphalt at the end of the chapter hints: the Fog has already prepared a new durability test for our duo. Keep reading!
Gena 2.5L’s Notes:
«Ha. Ha. Ha. Logged: The Carrier appreciated the skeleton joke. The probability that the SJ will decide to pick me out of his skull with a spoon has decreased by 14.2%. However, the vibration at the end of the chapter hints that the ‘skeleton’ will have to go to the ball after all… and this ball will be in Imatra. Carrier, check the round in the chamber. The vibration of the asphalt is not an earthquake. It is someone very heavy walking towards us.»
