Directions, objectives, combat techniques, assigned tasks—these were the indelible protocols embedded in Veronica's consciousness from her life as a mechanical gladiator.
And yet she's never been programmed to know what to do when she's presented with an infinite number of paths to choose from down the road.
The human mind, adaptable as it is, would know what to do in this situation better than the calculating mind of a mechanoid, except there is not a single human left to guide her now.
The girl who was once her teacher on all things human is no longer able to answer any of her questions.
Human bodies contain no data storage modules to preserve memories and thoughts, making death irreversible once life vanishes from their ever-so fragile carnal shell.
Why is it, then, that she can't bring herself to let go of the lifeless human body in her arms?
Veronica has no answer to this question. She simply continues her solitary journey across the endless snowfield.
Snowflakes settle gently upon Serra's body, and yet these delicate crystals will never melt.
Veronica presses on against the biting wind, leaving a trail of footprints across the barren wilderness.
A mechanoid's consciousness only registers the data markers of each day's beginning and end, unable to grasp the true meaning of "time."
Then one day, it isn't the snowflakes that come with the wind anymore, but rather something soft and colorful—and "flower petals" are what they're called, according to Serra.
With it, Veronica senses a distinct shift in temperature and humidity. A gentle breeze stirs as the sun crests the horizon once more.
The world around her is now a tapestry of colors, utterly unlike the snowland she's grown used to.
Flowers sway in the breeze and carpet the landscape to the distant horizon. The breeze sends the petals through the air as it leaves gentle touches on Veronica's bionic skin.
...
"Flowers"...
Flowers are wonderful things. Just looking at them makes me happy.
But there isn't any here. There is nothing but metal here. They're probably just gonna turn flowers into dried specimens if they ever get any...
When we get out of here, I'll take you to see real flowers—somewhere with hillsides completely blanketed in blooms!
...
Veronica gently lays Serra's body among the blossoming flowers.
Flowers sway in Veronica's optical modules as her metal fingers touch the moist soil and velvety petals. They feel nothing like the cold metallic objects she's used to, leaving her momentarily disoriented.
"Just looking at them makes me happy..."
Veronica repeats what Serra once said, failing to see how flowers can make anyone happy.
Yet in her consciousness module, Veronica feels a flutter. Something within her mechanisms falters for just a moment, as if trying to convey an emotion beyond a mechanoid's interpretation.
...I still don't understand a whole bunch of things that you told me.
But I think you would have wanted to stay here.
As the sun descends toward the horizon, a small grave marker stands in the field. Blooming flowers surround the rough wooden sign, while the dying sunlight bathes everything in a deep crimson glow.
Veronica stands quietly before the makeshift grave. Nothing in her program tells her what the appropriate response should be in this moment.
In the all-too-brief time with her human friend, Veronica never had the chance to fully appreciate the complexities of humanity.
What does one say to a friend who will never return? Serra never told her the appropriate thing to do if she ever found herself in a situation like this.
The concept of graves and what they meant was only mentioned in passing when Veronica and Serra compared human body decay to the deterioration of machinery.
Veronica now realizes that she should have tried to be a little more responsive when Serra was trying to imagine a free future.
Ugh... every day it's just sleep, wake up, and work. I'm so exhausted. I could really use some quality rest here.
Hey, Veronica, what do you think... the world outside is like?
I wish I could... be like that little bird. I'd love to be out there flying. With you by my side, of course.
I'm sure you'd be gigantic with wings, though, so do let me perch on you if I ever get tired from flying!
Hey, look at you, Veronica, you got wings now!
Veronica turns around to find Serra's face beaming with joy.
You just gotta learn how to fly now. How do you like the world out there, though? It's huge, right?
...Yes, it is.
Have you decided where you want to go? Are you a mountain or sea person?
...I'm not a big fan of scenery. I think I'd look for settlements with intelligent machines instead.
Oops, true. You're not into these things.
Serra tilts her head to one side, seemingly lost in thought.
But...
Huh?
But I will pay those places a visit if I get the chance. The mountains and the seas you mentioned, and the birds and the flowers.
Taken aback for a second, Serra breaks into a smile.
That's great! And when you do, you have to tell me how you like them.
...I won't feel a thing about them. I just want to see what they're like.
That's great, too... I mean, it's great just seeing them even if you don't feel a thing.
Serra tilts her head back casually to look at the setting sun on the horizon. Her smile takes on a deeper, more profound meaning.
The sun's going down. We should get going, Veronica.
Alright... Goodbye, then.
With it, Serra freezes quietly, before it dissolves into fine dust and vanishes into the air.
Before Veronica stands the same small tombstone—a crude wooden marker with a delicate wreath of flowers gently swaying in the night breeze.
The conversation just now was but an illusion.
Goodbye, Serra.
Good night.
Veronica turns away, melding into the last golden rays of the setting sun with her wings spread.
A boundless world stretches before her as the winds of freedom lift her wings.
At the farthest edge of the horizon, a new destination comes into view.
