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Old 06-10-2017, 05:08 AM
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Djafkri (Offline)
I Am My Own Master
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Elsewhere in Grimlit

Escaping death, Sara kneaded the dough while Djafkri split logs for the fire. The small, dead man, sleeping along the horizon, bore millions of eyes. With a faint hum, they auto-focused, zooming in on their every move.

"It won't be reported." Djafkri noted, "Only committed to memory... for now. But the maintenance crews could get suspicious."

The bright, light emitting diodes, of a cold morning sun, had begun to rise when they climbed aboard the feet of the dead man. With a nervous twitch and a light explosion, it's muscles began to grind. Receivers throughout the dead man's body, picked up on the noises. And though it's millions of mouths scarcely remained mute, the ink, striking the pages, conveyed a complex pattern of deceptions and demands; orders targeting the cyborg's living components.

Turning right onto a street, commemorating one of the dead man's more dedicated servants by name, they passed slowly. Familiar landmarks, and a possible address, were all they had to assist their quest.

"Five C eight four P nine zero seven may be displaced." Sara cautioned, "Or totally consumed. Most of the caskets are occupied by the living."
"Or neither.", something responded.

Resounding through the small suburb, the dry monologue had only begun. No emotion could betray the logic of the cyborg and no interface was programmed into it's speech...

The breath of the dead man passed in toxic swirls over the vast chimneys of it's lungs as it spoke. And while only mildly amused, it's dead components persisted. No troops flanked it's passage and while spies, planted within the circuitry of electronic billboards, searched recorded patterns, they offered little resistance, as well...

"Eternal frost." the gatecrasher concluded, "It surges through the lungs of the dead man, supporting it's brain. Immortality carries a price that ignores the sneers from the lair but only the jeering ever really experiences the life it attempts to control."
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