The Exo’s corpse had seen better days. The right leg was missing from the knee down, and jagged high-caliber bullet holes riddled the torso. The clothing it had worn had long rotted away. The only thing that was seemingly well-preserved was a maple leaf that had plastered itself to the side of the Exo’s skull.
But to the Ghost hovering over the remains, the corpse was the single most beautiful thing it’d ever seen. Oh, it saw the damage and had taken note. But seen only by it–and those who hunted the small droid, was a single ball of pure Light. It was lodged in one of the bullet holes, pulsing with power.
<I found you!> Without hesitation, the Ghost reached out with its own Light, bathing the Exo’s body in waves. A thrill overtook it as the ball of Light responded, becoming larger and larger, covering the Exo from head to foot. As the tiny machine watched in awe, the Exo’s body lifted off the ground. The Light sank into the black-metal form, reactivating processors and programs. With a shimmer, the right leg materialized, and the bullet holes began to patch themselves. Artificial nerves began to fire, and the embers of a spirit held in place smoldered briefly–before erupting into a full-fledged fire. Invisible threads reached out-entwining the Ghost’s own spirit with that of the resurrecting Exo, sinking into the artificial nervous network and beginning to form a web of circuitry and magic binding the two together. Another program activated-this one pulling together the basic elements of what the Ghost had been able to find nearby–creating a rough, almost homespun suit of armor out of wire and battered canvas.
Resurrection completed, the Ghost watched as the Exo’s optics slowly flickered to life. They were violet in color, and the starlight glinted off matte-black metal, broken only by a pure white stripe that extended from the middle of the Exo’s face up and towards the back of his head. His mouthlights were a vivid green. Then suddenly with a wheeze, the Exo sat straight up, coughing violently. Dust and debris puffed out in little clouds from his mouth, and he dragged in a gasping breath.
Systems online.
Functionality: 100%
New program installed.
Current date/time…System Error
Wait…what? The Exo coughed again. Lungs now clear, he dragged in a lungful of air. Where…where…
“You’re awake!” The Exo’s attention was immediatly drawn to a small floating machine. It seemed to be made up out of triangles, with a black core and a blue ‘eye’ in the center. It was practically vibrating, and it dipped and spun about. “You’re awake, you’re awake, you’re awake!”
“…What the hell?” Hearing him speak, the little drone stopped moving, dipping down closer to the android.
“Are you alright? How are you feeling?” The Exo blinked.
“I…”
Designation: Mathye-7
Current date/time…Error
Memory blocks… Error, programs not found.
“I…” The Exo repeated.
Self-diagnostic check complete. Functionality 100%
Memory Blocks: Error. Programs not found.
“I don’t know. I…I can’t…” The Exo put a hand to his head. “I don’t…I don’t remember…” The Ghost whirred, quickly scanning him with a beam. “Who…it says my name is…”
“You’re Mathye-7.” The little machine said. With a whir, it moved to hover in front of the Exo’s face. “You’re my Guardian. But…you’ve…been dead.”
“I’ve been dead?” Mathye repeated.
“Yes. For a…really…really…” The Ghost buzzed, a nervous sound. “Long…time.” Mathye didn’t say anything, looking around the room. It was a shambles–broken furniture and machines, and skeletons sprawled about in various locations.
“…Where am I?” He whispered.
“We’re just outside the Manhattan Nuclear Zone. A old territory once called Philadelphia.” The Ghost spun a fin. “I found you here. You’re my Guardian.”
“Guardian?” Mathye looked down at his hands.
Self-diagnostic check complete. Functionality 100%
Current date/time…Error
Memory blocks…Error, programs not found.
Guardian meaning: Noun. A defender, protector, or keeper. A person who looks after and is legally responsible for someone who is unable to manage their own affairs, especially an incompetent or disabled person or a child whose parents have died. The superior of a Franciscan convent.
“What do you mean that I’m–” A roar cut off Mathye’s words. The Ghost spun about in alarm, fins twitching.
“Oh that’s not good! Come on!” Buzzing, it flew around Mathye and began to nudge his right shoulder. “We need to get out of here!”
“What the hell is that?” Mathye asked, lurching to his feet. Wobbling, he extended his hands for support, waiting for internal gyros to adjust and stabilize.
“Things that want to kill both you and me! We need to start moving!”