There was a flash, a spark of creation.
A secondary impulse that flooded sensation.
Movement became possible.
Awareness of movement soon followed.
Feeling reacted towards action.
Now, encoded from within, emotion from what had occurred overwhelmed every faculty for thought.
There was someone there, staring down at him. A boy, not Creator. It was the most logical thought to conclude it was this boy whom had reassembled him. It took him time to respond to what the boy appeared to be saying.
All he could think of was the fact he had been discarded. He read his surroundings. He had been dumped in an alley.
“Sizar Cayo El 3rd Cycle Model 5UA,” he replied to the boy’s question of who he was.
The boy only appeared perplexed.
“Sizer?” was all the boy responded with after a time.
“Yes.” He guessed that was his name now.
Sizer had once more been given life. Reborn after being disassembled and considered a failure. It was all thanks to this boy. He wanted to show gratitude; a drive for action that felt strange to him.
“No thanks,” the boy turned down his request. “I don’t need to be owed anything by some dusty old bucket of gears.”
“Noted,” Sizer took to memory the reason for his denial. He also felt a bit dejected.
Even so, Sizer would continue to persist, going against a direct order to put such a matter aside by the boy. Sizer followed the boy until slowly, and aided by his defending the boy from cutthroats, the boy would come to accept Sizer as a permanent fixture by his side.
The boy even allowed Sizer to call him ‘Master’.
Master was always a distracted individual--his quirk seemed to always be getting into the middle of things that piqued his interest at that exact moment. It was illogical to Sizer. It was better to plan ahead and take all variables into account, proceeding with the best course of action that could maximize efficiency and minimize 1.) effort, 2.) casualties, if possible.
Ah, that was his war machine programming at fault.
Master was fond of running headfirst into things, either way. And he did run headfirst into a guy who’d tried mugging someone in front of him once. That started a bar fight that took a few burnt tables and also people to stop. Then Master told Sizer to run, and he did. He ran with him.
That was the habit. Sizer ran with Master, no matter what Master did. Just ran with him. It was something he appeared to be fond of.
Oh, he supposed he found it fun.
Strange how Master brought forth all these new emotions, when Creator had only brought forth feelings of sadness and regret. Perhaps Master was the better person?
At one point in time, they decided to squat in an abandoned house along the farthest edges of a small village. He would hunt game with Master in the woods. Master patted his head whenever Sizer brought back more game than usual. It felt nice.
Master started to miss vegetables, which he said was very weird because vegetables were icky. Sizer didn’t comprehend this, though he did note that vegetables tasted bitter. So Master started a garden, and grew not only vegetables but also fruit. And something called ‘decorative flora’. Sizer didn’t understand what purpose that served, but their scent was comforting.
Soon, Master was drafted into war. Sizer was to follow with.
Master trained hard, but didn’t seem to want to. Sizer understood.
Master fought in his first battle, and he cried after staring into the distance for an hour. Sizer wished he could cry along with him.
Master was going to die, once. Sizer wouldn’t allow it. A grenade would have killed Master, but Sizer blocked it. There, he was dismantled once more.
Sizer didn’t know why he’d done so. It was not in his programming.