The Disparate One

Ray awoke from the ear-shattering screech, he jumped in his seat and darted his heavy eyes around. He didn’t know how long he was asleep as he rubbed his head. He felt a slight headache and some pinching around his neck as if someone was choking him. Suddenly, he caught something on his right forearm, a reddish area near his wrist, directly on his blood vessel. He locked his eyes at Soothsayer who was calmly looking out the window.

Their locomotive stopped in the middle of the darkness. Soothsayer looked back inside and found Ray already awake, with a frightened yet deadly look.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t poison you or anything. I injected something into your body that placed you in slumber for a couple of days. I forgot what it’s called, but Oxford used it on me, once. It also helps you to not get hungry or thirsty.” said Soothsayer calmly, bringing out his flashlight.

“You’re not hungry or thirsty, right? I can’t help if you’re hungry, but…” Soothsayer flashed his light around outside the engine. Signifying that Ray could drink the water should he get thirsty.

Ray raised a brow when he watched Soothsayer leave the cabin, stepping down the emergency ladder on the side. He poked his head out the window, hoping to find some answers to why they stopped. He looked ahead and saw another set of trains derailed, blocking both ways. They formed like a barrier, blocking both sides of the tunnel.

He shook his head when he yawned. He didn’t expect to survive the trip for a couple of days. He didn’t even think it would last this long. His legs were numbed from dozens of hours of no movements. He carefully stretched them out, feeling numerous spikes pricking his legs.

Soothsayer wooshed through the knee-level water, examining if this was the place. He returned to the cabin where Ray was still stretching his joints out.

“This is where you go on foot,” said Soothsayer.

Ray froze in the middle of his stretch when he stared at Soothsayer. Seeing through his eye mask, he could tell he wasn’t joking, also by the tone of his voice. He stood straight, parts of his body were still lazy and twitching.

“Aren’t you coming?” Ray questioned, grabbing the helmet. Soothsayer shook his head No.

“This is how far I can go,” he said simply.

Ray nodded and kept a straight face, but the ends of his mouth frowned. He shook his head again, reminding himself about his reason to return to the facility. There was apparently no time for drama. It had been a couple of days already. Both of them knew nothing of what Cal had done to the place. He could have killed everyone already.

Ray stepped towards the ladder, glancing at Soothsayer, thanking him for saving him in the first place, saving and helping Oxford, and helping him get back and save everyone. Soothsayer remained calm despite seeing sadness through Ray’s strong facade.

“Ray,” Soothsayer poked his head out when Ray climbed down the ladder. Their eyes met.

“We’ll see each other again.”

Ray nodded but this time with a gentle hint of relief. A smile. He jumped off the ladder and splashed onto the water. He raised the helmet above his head and stared at the dark path before him. Soothsayer told him that this tunnel only went straight to the facility, no excuse to get lost. He even reminded him about his own flashlight.

Ray dug into his pockets and brought out the light, beaming it in front of him. He looked up and nodded for the last time to Soothsayer who remained in the cabin. Soothsayer nodded back.

Ray sloshed through the somehow warm water. He figured it must be the engine. When he got to a fair amount of distance, he jumped and darted his eyes behind him when Soothsayer put the engine in reverse. The giant, blinding lights at the front of it began to get smaller and fainter. Ray remained in his place, watching the lights slowly consumed by the abyss. The puffing sounds of the engine also disappeared. Darkness and complete eerie silence accompanied him in his walk.

He managed to fit the helmet on his head when he began to hear echoes of gushing water. His light apparently couldn’t go that far. He pushed forward despite the water rising to his waist. What used to be uninterrupted water around him was now filled with ripples and small waves. He could feel the air getting wetter and colder, but the water remained warm.

Soon, a few meters later, he found a small stream of water raining from above. He walked around it, though since the width of the tunnel was limited, he got half of himself dripping wet. He couldn’t tell if the helmet was waterproof, either way, he did his best to keep it dry.

Ray wondered where all this water was coming from, the tunnel must not be that deep underground. Out of curiosity, Ray grabbed a handful of water and sniffed and licked it. It was salty. Seawater indeed.

After what felt like to be decades, the water began to recede from his waist and back to its calm state. In the distance, he could see an opening. His eyes widened and his enthusiasm propelled him through the water that stayed on his knees. When he got closer, he could see a new environment awaiting him. As soon as he stepped out of the tunnel, he was greeted by the exquisite facade of what resembled to be a terminal.

Wide, unoccupied tracks and platforms. Large, towering steel columns that looked like it was made by Greeks. It arched to one another at the top, supporting the fascinatingly painted stone ceiling that depicted the wonders of the earth and its people centuries ago. The terminal was ten stories high.

Hoisting himself off the water, his squeaky shoes echoed in the empty place. He didn’t know if he should let himself dry off for a while before strolling around. But, seeing how abandoned the place looked, he figured the guards nor anyone in the facility would be here. Unless they knew he would be here.

Aside from the amazing scenery, something greater caught his attention. There were bullet holes everywhere.

He carefully walked up along the large, marble staircase decorated with withered brown vegetation. He snapped a piece of it, wondering how nature found its way deep underground. He scanned each floor, his shoes continued to squeak on each step. It was finally getting through his nerves. He wanted to yank his shoes and throw them away.

He only found dilapidated shops on the first and second floors, upon arriving on the third floor, however, he found a cafeteria. It looked ordinary at first glance until he saw a body sitting on one of the tables in the middle of the area. Ray furrowed.

He squeakily approached the table, slowing when he got close to it. He glanced at his vicinity before taking a closer look.

“Oh,” Ray stepped away when he got to the side where he found the body to be a skeleton wearing a green war uniform.

Despite the questioning discovery conveniently in the middle of the cafeteria, he kept his mind fully aware of his surroundings. He found a wide hall in the middle of the cafeteria. He walked through it only to find the end of it blocked off with giant concrete debris.

He sighed with disappointment and returned to the cafeteria where his eyes met with the skull again. He waddled over the chair opposite of it and sat down. He placed the helmet in the middle of the table while keeping his eyes on the empty sockets. He found something under its uniform, an old rifle. He leaned towards it to confirm that his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

He thought it would be useful for him to have a weapon to defend himself, even though he knew bullets won’t be effective against robots who he assumed to be made out of metal.

As his hands slowly reached out for it, he felt something pressed on the back of his head. A faint green glow appeared on the skull, his head’s shadow cast over it. He heard something clicked.

He gradually raised both hands and slowly turned around, seeing someone pointing a rifle at his face. A robot.

“I can’t believe you have the guts to return to this place,” the robot uttered a deep, authoritarian tone.

Ray gulped as he stared at the pair of shimmering green eyes. He was about to speak when the robot shoved the barrel into his mouth. Ray bumped the table and the skeleton. He stuttered while he tasted the metal surface. His hands gripped the table underneath him when he suddenly lost his balance, the helmet rolled off and fell to the ground with him. The robot instantly pulled his aim away from Ray when he saw the device. He brought out a cloth and wiped the saliva off his weapon.

Ray coughed and spat on the floor, clutching the device to himself when he looked up to the robot. It was unlike any robot he had ever seen.

The robot was missing an ear and the remaining one appeared to have snapped half of itself. The glass on his eyes was shattered, exposing the inner, tiny mechanisms that controlled his eyes. His body was as green as the color of his eyes. There were tiny dots of rusts and dents throughout his body. On his left chest were three golden stars engraved onto it, all were barely shining. In conclusion, Ray already figured out what this robot was.

Ray on the other hand had just returned to his feet, secretly glaring at the robot.

Is this the robot Soothsayer talked about, he thought, dusting himself.

“I know who you are,” the robot spoke, shoving the cloth back to a tiny compartment on his body and using the rifle as a staff.

“I know to whom that device belonged,” the robot added, glancing at the helmet.

Ray remained silent. The robot looked calmly at him.

“Nite is my name. One of the first generations,” the robot introduced himself before walking away like nothing happened.

First generations? Ray never heard anything about it. But then again, he had forgotten that the facility had more to it than what it met the eye. He quickly followed behind him, confident that Nite was indeed the person Soothsayer mentioned. He didn’t expect it to be a robot, especially a first generation. What did that even mean? Ray asked about it.

Nite explained that he was one of the robots who were sent to combat during World War 1. One of the first series of robots built and programmed for combat. Some of the dents, which he proudly wore as a battle scar, came from bullets and catching artillery. He was one of the unsung heroes that laid the foundation to where the entire world was built upon.

Nite casually kicked a metal door open which led to a staircase. They walked up. Ray, who was behind, continued to admire Nite’s body. Somehow, he was fascinated by it. Seeing more-than-a-century-year-old someone still alive. He began to wonder if there were more like him secretly roaming around the facility. This also made him question, what was Nite doing here and how come he knew where to find him?

“I and…” Nite suddenly paused as if he saw a ghost in front of the steps, he glanced over his shoulder to Ray and resumed, “I and… Soothsayer met decades ago. It was my first day in training while it was his first day in management. I used to serve under his orders.”

Ray continued to listen on their way up to the top where Nite kicked another door. He really had no care or whatsoever regarding doors. The 10th floor was like any other floor in the place, however, there was a pile of magazines near the edge where it overlooked the platforms below. A bunch of giant boxes, which Ray figured to be benches, circled around the pile, which he also figured to be the campfire.

Nite took a seat on one of the boxes, he leaned his rifle next to him. Ray sat nearby, holding the helmet like a teddy bear. Nite glanced at him when he dug from one of the concealed tiny compartments on the side of his box. He brought out a tiny box of matches. He lit one and tossed it into the pile. A small tower of smoke appeared and a red-orange glow painted Nite’s facade.

“I’ve seen that look before, believe me. You better keep asking while we’re still here,” said Nite when he stared behind Ray’s eyes, seeing those questions hiding.

Ray calmly asked if there was anyone like him still alive. He believed now would be a great moment for a campfire story. The fire grew and glowed brightly when Nite’s hands turned to fists. His green eyes fought against the light.

Despite being a robot, Nite could still remember how his friends died in the middle of the combat. After the war, the management awarded them with the highest honor possible, making them the 6th army to receive it. Everyone had a victorious smile, except for Nite himself. He was the only one in the first generation to not wear the award. He destroyed it right after the ceremony.

He didn’t feel honorable watching his friends or any human lives being taken out of the earth before his grasp. He didn’t feel pride or victory. He felt sadness for the first time in his life and for the rest of his life. His colleagues who survived the war tried to cheer him up. He tried it himself, but he was apparently too aware of the world outside his metal shell.

Everything went downhill a decade later when the management began to lose interest in maintaining the first generations. Anger spread throughout the facility like wildfire after World War 2 when the second generations didn’t receive a single award. Not even an acknowledgment.

With that, both the first and second generations allied with the rebellions when they challenged the management. Numerous lives were lost. Parts of the facility which they considered too precious to lose were destroyed, some were moved at the very bottom, to be forgotten forever. This terminal was one of them.

The terminal where the first attack took place and the last. He, along with others, formed a defensive line and sprayed bullets in all directions as the remaining rebellions escaped through the tunnel by foot. Unfortunately, the tunnel was flooded like a gardening hose.

“How did you escape?”

Nite glanced at him.

“Through cowardness.”

Nite further explained that when the place was flooded, one of the guards threw an electric grenade onto the water. It exploded. It killed everyone in the water. He managed to climb out of it just in time and hid in the terminal’s ventilation.

He only came out when the management detached the terminal from the main structure, cutting its power, everything to it. To let it deteriorate itself.

“...I don’t know how many got to the end of the tunnel before it got flooded. All I know is that Soothsayer made it,” Nite fed a rolled-up magazine to the fire, “And I am the only one who survived in this terminal.”

Nite picked up his rifle and showed a part of it that had numbers stamped onto its barrel.

“Even if I wanted to shoot you, I won’t be able to. Because all weapons made in the facility can only be used by certain, authorized people. Biometrics. This rifle isn’t mine. A friend gave it to me on his death in the war. My gratitude to keep it in as pristine condition as possible.”

Nite paused, placing the weapon back down, his hands dangling in between his knees.

“It only has one bullet,” he stated, “It only takes one.”

Nite stared at Ray in complete silence.

Ray locked eyes with him before gradually looking away. He thought about what Nite said. The rebellions. Oxford. Sion. Cal. Somehow, a crucial part of the puzzle was forming before his eyes. He gazed at the fire in amazement. Soothsayer survived. Oxford survived. Nite survived. One bullet.

The rebellion didn’t end after all these years. It was still going all along beneath Cal’s dome.