Seed’s chassis was covered in scars. Perhaps they had stopped production of her original parts; much of her body used parts that were obviously not of her original design.
“I left everything on the battlefield. Do you understand?” she asked, to which No. 2 shook her head. She had never even been in a battle, so she couldn’t imagine a battlefield either.
“Anger, sadness, fear, and even happiness. I have none of it now. There’s nothing in this empty head of mine.” Seed looked down at her hands. “But when I’m holding a weapon, I forget all of that. Even if this is a simulated battlefield.”
Considering Seed’s point of view, why did No. 2 feel a bit of sadness? It was hard to imagine Seed, a celebrated warrior, being sad.
“What are you doing?” barked the commander.
No. 2 rushed to salute her. The commander looked over at Seed and No. 2, and slightly cocked her head.
“Seed, it’s rare for you to be talking to a new model.”
“She’s interesting to me.”
“No. 2? She’s a mediocre specimen lacking extraordinary qualities.”
“Sorry,” No. 2 said, as her shoulders drooped. Just as the commander had said, she was average in every way and had nothing she was exceptionally good at. No. 2 knew it too well.
“An average model, huh. That’s good.”
“What?”
What did she mean? What could be good about being an unexceptional model?
“Being average means she has the potential to improve in every way.”
“Potential …”
“I guess you could say there’s more room for hard work to factor in. You can improve any aspect of yourself with hard work and adaptations. You can decide how you want to improve.”
She had never thought of it like that. A boring, unexceptional model. That’s what she thought she was.
“You see? There’s a sea of possibility awaiting you.”
All of a sudden, it was almost as if she could see a bright light in front of her. But it was too bright. At least, too bright for now.
“And a person who knows they’re average is strong.”
“Strong? Me?”
You know that you can’t accomplish things alone, so you try to engage the help of others. You know how to trust and treasure your comrades. That’s the strength of an average person.”
It didn’t click for her, even if she was called strong. Seed saw that, and nodded, “Yeah, well, it’s okay if you don’t understand now. Just remember that you can win if you fight together. That’s enough for now.”
Then Seed looked over at the commander standing to the side and gave her a knowing look.
No. 2 couldn’t believe it when she heard that Seed had died, even though the news came straight from the commander.
She replayed the message from the commander over and over. She thought she was being pranked. She thought a laughing Seed would appear on the screen saying, “Were you surprised? Sorry.” That’s what she believed. It’s not like she had evidence, she just believed that was the case.
“Hey No. 2. You still alive?”
Seed was laughing, like always. See, she was still alive. Her dying was just a joke after all …
“If you’re seeing this message, then that means I’m no longer a part of this world.”
She stopped breathing. She thought her heart would stop beating too.
“Unlike humans, we’re told that androids have no souls. This message is the closest thing to a soul that I can leave you with.”
“No …” Her voice sounded far away.
“Due to the invasion of the Machines, and the human retreat to the moon, Earth has virtually returned to a state of nature. Looking at Earth now, filled with greenery, I’m starting to think that humanity were the bad guys …”
Seed stopped talking. She looked down, as if she was thinking about something, or was trying to remember something. She spoke up again.
“Recently I’ve been thinking. If my memories of living among humans are real. If they’re artificial, what are we fighting? I don’t know anymore.”
She remembered Seed’s face when she had said, “I have none of it now.” She had a sad expression, unbefitting of a strong warrior.
“No. 2. I don’t want you to become like me. I want you to find a reason to live.”
A reason to live? She didn’t know what Seed meant. She didn’t know what she was saying, or what she was being told to do, because it seemed like she’d never see Seed again.
“Thanks for talking to me. Goodbye.”
After Seed disappeared from the screen, No. 2 couldn’t move. It felt like something within her would collapse the moment she moved.
“This message was recorded before she died. In case something happened to her.”
Seed was dead. No. 2 said that over and over in her head, but it wasn’t sinking in.
“What happened?”
“An accident during an experiment. The new equipment failed.”
The new equipment she was referring to was probably the magnetic field–resistant skin. Seed had said that her experiment would protect the latest generation from all EMP attacks.
“I can’t believe she died!”
No. 2 had planned to visit Seed right after returning from the descent attack. She wanted to talk to Seed about Earth. Tell her how she felt when she looked up at the sky. How she felt when she stepped on the green Earth …
“I know! Aren’t there spare chassis?! What about her personal data backup?!”
Even if her original body was gone, as long as they had her personal data they could upload it to a temporary body. That way, No. 2 could see Seed again. But the commander’s words destroyed any meager hope that No. 2 had.
“This is already a decided matter.”
“But!”
“We can’t fix her.”
“Wait! Commander!”
“That is all.”
There was nothing she could say. No. 2 fell to her knees on the spot.
“No … it can’t be …”
Why couldn’t they upload the personal data to a spare chassis? Technologically speaking, avoiding death was possible. Yet.
“Why? I can’t accept that!”
The commander had already disappeared.
“I can’t … accept that …”
Her shoulders involuntarily shook. Pain rose from the bottom of her throat. No. 2 cried alone in a deserted hallway.