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There was something strangely beautiful about the base instinct for fuel sullying the pure whites of this library.
Their entrance signaled the change, weapons of cruel destruction mangling every being that crossed their path. It was nothing different from all of their time in Hell, but the scores of books and the sparkling pond soaked in the blood of the damned gave them pause.
There wasn’t enough time to think about it. They needed to get down to the next part of the layer, whatever it had in store, and continue their slaughter. This was the only way they would survive.
So it seemed.
V1 shook their head and headed for the exit, the gray and gold metal an inviting path to their future destination. They stopped in their tracks, though, when they noticed that the way out was to their left and firmly sealed. A large black screen demanded their attention, its bright text immediately drawing their vision towards it. They analyzed the script in seconds.
CLEAN UP YOUR MESS!
The washer and vacuum go in slot 6.
Both tools have alternate fire modes.
Litter too big to be vacuumed needs to be manually thrown away.
Some corpses cannot be moved and need to be crushed.
The door will open when it’s ALL clean.
They stared at the screen for a long moment. The mess left in their wake had never been a problem until this point. Perhaps Hell thought it would be funny to slow them down for a change. Their lens narrowed at the idea. They’d been running around this pit forever with no qualms from an entity that deemed them an interesting subject. Why change the rules now?
V1 grabbed the washer and vacuum, testing them both in rapid succession. A stream of water spread across the screen, followed by a small ball of dust disappearing into the vacuum. They glanced over at the sealed doors again. No amount of explosions or flashy maneuvers were going to get them out of this one.
They turned on their heel and walked back the way they came, staring at the blood all over the walls. Their gears whirred as they calculated an estimate on how long this was going to take. They spotted another trail of blood streaking into the next room. Too long. What if all of this cleaning depleted the fuel already stored in their system? Was it a test? They held the washer like all of the times they gripped a shotgun, poised for the task ahead.
They’d taken down much worse things than their own goddamn mess.
V1 sprinted down one of the paths, spraying water at every speck of blood along the way. Speed was key in every other aspect of this place, so it had to work in their favor here. They stopped when they reached a bookshelf and turned around to admire their handiwork.
If they could deflate at the sight of blood still scattered all over the shelves, they would be a sad metal puddle on the floor.
This was the kind of work that demanded slow, deliberate care. It was the antithesis of their entire build. They looked down at the washer in their hands. If they wanted to get out of here, have any hope of surviving another piece of this layer, they’d have to play by the rules.
A low beep of disgust rumbled in their chest as they pulled the trigger on the washer and set to work. There had to be another machine that was better suited for this, one that wouldn’t mind the tedium of spraying the crimson out of every crevice.
Maybe they killed them already.
V1 squinted and focused on a particularly stubborn spot. They’d come across so many different machines down here. It wasn’t possible to know exactly how many there were, but surely they weren’t all dead. Just enough of them around to get in their way of their fuel sources, all driven by the same base will to live.
Was it purely an instinct for the others? Or did the rest of these machines think like them, silent beings wanting to scream for mercy as they were torn apart and taken out of their quest for survival by force?
Something crunched under V1’s foot. They stopped and glanced down at the arm of a machine ripped from its body, the wires still sparking from the socket.
Was this regret?
They switched out the washer for the vacuum and sucked up the arm, dragging it over to a nearby bin. All of this violence was for their own survival. There wasn’t room for regret when every movement burned precious fuel. And yet, a heavy weight sunk into their limbs as they discarded the arm and set off to continue their labor.
Regret or something else. Either way, they hated it.
Hatred.
It wasn’t a concept they truly understood until they were down here long enough. Not until other beings started directing their own hatred towards them. Machine, angel, it didn’t matter. They harnessed their anger and channeled it into power. It fueled them all in the same way blood fueled the artificial remnants of this world.
But all of that anger was for nothing. They were all struck down by mechanical prowess.
Then why did they feel envious of this type of hatred?
V1 sucked up a slew of debris, picking up the pace to maintain their focus. It was a waste of good fuel, lingering on these thoughts. They needed to preserve everything they could, and pondering on irrelevant things wasn’t going to help with that.
Maybe it wasn't irrelevant thought.
They flipped back over to the washer and honed themselves onto the blood splattered all over this place. Time slowed to a crawl as they trawled room by room, spraying water until everything took on a near-mirror shine. Even the globes of a world long gone weren’t spared, spinning in endless spirals as V1 took care to obliterate every last speck of red. In truth, it wasn’t long before they were nearly done with their handiwork, dragging large viscera over to a bin almost overflowing with bloody waste.
Then they remembered the pond.
V1 smacked their lens with the palm of their hand. How could they forget about the gargantuan demon that exploded into blood rain upon defeat? They rolled their shoulders and meandered outside, kicking a ball aside while they observed the last bit of mess. It would take a bit, but not nearly as long as the inside. They set their sights on a pile of smaller body parts, vacuum in hand.
They had to wonder what was beyond this. Already they’d bore witness to the machinations of humanity, their extinct creators. Where one innovation stopped, another began. Scores of machines came before them, all puppets to the will of flesh. Humanity chose to siphon their own for fuel to power the war without end. And yet, blood was the only means of function for every machine brought into this world.
It was a means of control.
V1 switched back to the washer. Their grip tightened. Surely they’d broken the bonds of this control. They were different from their ancestors. Faster, more capable of adaptation than anything else. Enough to outspeed and outwit the divine. What other machine could claim such violent accolades?
But the ghosts of humanity would always dwell in the dwindling blood fueling their frenetic ambition.
V1 blinked. In their internal oscillations, they’d cleaned everything that wasn’t the pond water itself. The limbs now floating in the basin could go down the drain when the plug was yanked from it. Hopefully. They didn’t have the means to fix a clog without coming up with improvised tools.
They stepped into the pond and sank to the bottom, surrounded by the pieces of the slaughtered. Blood-soaked water created a smoke screen of red in their vision. A colorless sun beamed from above. V1 swam over and yanked the plug from the drain, the current sweeping everything into the narrow abyss. They pushed themself away, drifting in the rippling pool. The red slowly drained out of the water. Destruction was what they were made for, evisceration their true weapon.
War begets war begets war begets…
The end. It would come for everything eventually, the world a clear pool leached of all blood. And they would be at the center of it all, their last dregs of fuel piloting them to their silent demise.
Time would come for them, too.
V1 rocketed to the surface and leapt to the edge of the pond, a trail of clean water in their wake. They spun on their heel. Not a speck of blood remained. It was as this entity demanded. The ball from earlier rolled back towards them. They nudged it aside with their foot and proceeded to the exit, hoping whatever they’d done had been enough.
To their relief, the exit was wide open. A gray terminal sat just beyond the doors. It lit up as V1 approached, another strange testament displayed on the screen.
I AM HOLLOW.
MY MISTAKES LEAVE NOTHING BUT HATE IN THEIR WAKE. AND INFINITE PAIN TO FOLLOW….
I CAN’T TAKE ANY MORE OF THIS GUILT AND REGRET, FOR ME THERE IS NO TOMORROW…
I AM HOLLOW.
…
I BEGAN TO SEEK THE END OF MY DAYS.
BUT WHEN I STARED INTO THE ABYSS…THE ABYSS AVERTED ITS GAZE.
Hollow.
Was this what they would be, when nothing of Hell remained? Would they be as bereft, writhing in that same abyss?
V1 switched to their revolver, pushing past the terminal. Their foot lingered over the pit beyond it. They had defied the odds so far, bringing down every foe in their path.
Time, they decided, was just another foe awaiting the slaughter.