The Forest King

Lavinia rode through the quiet streets, her bicycle tires gliding over the bumpy, cracked pavement. The patches of grass and moss that filled the gaps in Seventy-Seven’s roads ran like the streams of emerald veins in mountains she’d seen old nature magazines from Back Before. Sometimes she wondered if those gleaming stones were still out there in the world. Not that she ever expected to see them herself if they were. She was content with her home and everything the Green provided her.

Why wouldn’t she be?

She had a home with all her salvaged gadgets and repair projects. A quiet life in a town surrounded by friendly neighbors. A reliable bike with newly inflated tires. And it was a nice morning, with a gentle breeze rustling the vine-covered homes and carrying the songs of all the nearby birds. As she neared the Blackwell Market, Lavinia took in a deep breath of the surrounding peace.

There was a cart out in front as Lavinia rode by. That was odd; couriers were almost always long gone by 11:15. She circled back and stopped behind the cart, where she found Bernard Blackwell chatting with an unknown man.

“Morning, Ms. Lavinia,” the market owner called over as she pushed out her kickstand.

“Good morning to you too, Bernard. And it’s just Lavinia,” she replied, smiling. She turned to the other man, “Are you the driver?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, sticking his hand out. Lavinia shook his hand, making the goggles on his head bounce around. “Michael Wilson, driver for the South-Central Caravan Corps.”

“Nice to meet you. Say, this is a bit of an unusual question, but have you ever delivered any mecha components before?”

“Mecha components?” he repeated. “You mean like old machine stuff from Back Before?”

“Yeahhh, something like that…” she said.

“Sorry, ma’am, can’t say I have. That kinda stuff is usually in old ruins, not the sort of thing me and Astus encounter on our routes.”

Lavinia glanced around. “Who’s Astus?”

At her word, a mighty crown of snow-white antlers rose up from the front of the cart, adorning the head of a massive stag. Lavinia gawked at the massive creature as it stood chewing on a clump of grass from the gaps in the pavement.

“B-Big thing…” she muttered.

“Pretty, ain’t he?” Blackwell admired.

“Looks like you managed to distract him from his snack.” Michael went up to the stag and pet the back of the animal’s neck. “This is Astus, my co-pilot and boss technically, since he decides when to pull the cart and when he wants to take a nap.”

Astus turned back to Lavinia and made her freeze up. She knew deer were normally docile herbivores, but there was something intimidating about this one. Maybe it was the unwavering gaze in its eye, or the fact it was about twice her size. Either way, she didn’t dare break off eye contact with the beast. Without realizing it, Lavinia found herself taking small steps up to Astus as he continued to stare at her. She could see herself in his dark, amber, unblinking eyes like a mirror; her very soul reflected back at her. As if he held all the answers to questions she never knew to ask. Was this truly an ordinary animal, or was he something more…?

Then his long tongue licked up her face, answering that and making her recoil.

“Aw, he likes you,” Michael said.

“Ugh… That’s nice…” she grumbled, while Bernard tried and failed to cover a laugh.

Michael climbed up into the seat of his cart and pulled the goggles down over his weathered eyes. But before he picked up Astus’s reins, he turned back to her.

“Well, me and Astus are already behind today, so we’d better be off. If you’d like, I can keep an eye out for any mecha components that might show up in the depot.”

“Oh heck, could you?” She smiled, “That’d be real kind of you.”

He smiled back. “If you don’t mind me prying, ma’am, what’re you making with that kinda stuff?”

“Lavinia’s near the handiest person in town,” Bernard said. “Ain’t seen a machine yet she can’t fix up.”

“Shucks, Bernard, I tinker more than anything else…”

A crimson glow filled her tan cheeks; she never would have called herself the handiest person in town. Michael nodded along anyway and pulled out a small notepad and pencil from the pocket of his jacket.

“In that case, what sort of parts are you looking for?” he asked, flipping open to an empty page. “Gears, servos…?”

“All that’d be good. And, erm… eyes, arms, anything like that. Child-sized, if possible.”

Michael blinked. “Uh. Sure, ma’am, whatever you say.”

“I-It’s for a project,” Lavinia stammered. “Nothing, y’know… weird.”

“Of course, ma’am, didn’t mean to insinuate anything.” He finished scribbling and slid the pad away. “If I find what you’re looking for, I’ll be sure to let you know, Ms. Lavinia.”

“Just Lavinia is fine—A-And thank you!”

He nodded to both her and Bernard and grabbed the reins. As he did, Astus looked over at Lavinia one last time and… winked? She recoiled again as the stag took off, pulling the cart away from the market’s lot.

What an odd deer… she mused as it continued on down the road.

Encounter at the Bridge Crossing

The road to the old ruins was likely the least traveled in the whole town, which suited Lavinia fine. There wasn’t much around there for most people. Of course, there wasn’t much of use there for her either. The collapsed buildings crushed most scrap or tech under them, and the best finds weren’t found near the surface. Anything easy to find by shifting a few rocks was already long gone.

Usually, anyway.

But she wasn’t out looking for salvage that morning. Spelunkin’ Day was every other Thursday—today she was only passing through the ruins. She rode her bike up to the old Whistling Overpass, still held together after all those years. Until the summer came and shrank the river down, the bridge was the only safe way across. But as approached the base of the bridge, she came to a swift halt.

A barrier of rusted-out cars stretched across the road, with a STOP sign shoved through the pavement in front. That definitely wasn’t there the last time she came through.

“What the H-E-double heck is this?” Lavinia muttered.

She pushed the kickstand out and walked over to the cars. After climbing over the barricade, she started up the bridge. Every other time Lavinia crossed it, she was always on her bike. Speeding by it was difficult to notice the random holes that broke through the bridge as it aged over the years. Or how long it took to walk the whole thing. But the slow climb gave her time to notice it all. When it took her about fifteen minutes to get halfway up the bridge, she was about ready to abandon reaching the garden on foot.

“Whoever pushed those cars in the way is gonna get a strongly worded letter…” she grumbled, puffing her way up the bridge. But when she was able to look past the bridge and into the ruins beyond, the sight caught the air in her throat.

A massive mechanical being was amongst the ruins, lifting and stacking their crumbling old husks like a child with blocks. It was a Builder.

Lavinia ducked beside the guard rail; she’d never seen one in-person. Word of them came through along the trade lines and from the random traveler stopping into Vic’s for a night. They’re said to roam the countryside—maybe even the world—and were always fixing old ruins. At least they were never said to be dangerous… Of course, there’s a difference between dangerous and actively hostile. Something that big could still squash her easily, even without intending to.

Better to just head home… she thought.

“Oh, it is a human!” came a voice behind her.

She fell over and scrambled away from the side of the bridge where the Builder’s featureless face was examining her.

“I’m sorry! Please don’t squish me!”

“Why would I do that?” it asked.

“By accident most likely, but I’ve never met a Builder before…” She looked up at it, “You’re not gonna do it though, right?”

“Of course not! How absurd, that would both violate our programming directives and be rude.”

That was a surprise—she never knew Builders could talk, let alone would get offended.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to imply anything,” she said. “Reckon I don’t know much about you Builders. Are you new here?”

The Builder nodded. “Rebuilding of this sector began thirty-two hours ago. I established the barricade to prevent any humans from wandering through. It’s far too dangerous while the rebuilding is underway. Did you not see it?”

“Uh… No, I saw it. Guess I should’ve realized not to cross it.”

“That’s alright, perhaps I should install more signs. I apologize for the inconvenience, but for your safety, I must request you do not cross the bridge until the rebuilding is complete.”

It turned back towards the ruins and began walking towards it. Each step sent a burst of water up from the river; she didn’t know how it managed to sneak up on her. Lavinia hurried along the bridge as it went.

“W-Wait, can’t you just not rebuild for an hour?” she asked.

“Not rebuild?” It turned back at her, “I suppose so, but the current debris buildup means there’s a 97% probability of injury in the rebuilding site. If you are seeking salvage, you can find it there once my work is complete.”

“No, no, I’m trying to get to a little place beyond the ruins. There’s this flower garden my mama planted…”

The Builder stared at her for a few moments. Lavinia stood on the bridge, swaying a bit in the awkward silence as the giant watched her. Did it think she was trying to trick it…? It was hard to tell what the Builder might be thinking when it didn’t have a face to read. At least if it did think she was lying to it, it couldn’t hurt her. Unless its “prime directives” were more like suggestions…

Finally, it reached down towards her. Lavinia flinched away—until she realized it was holding its hand out flat on the bridge.

“I understand sentimentality,” it said. “Allow me to transport you safely to your mother’s garden.”

Lavinia looked down at the hand and climbed onto it. The Builder lifted her up and nearly flooring her in the process. When she came to a stop though, Lavinia looked out at the view and was enthralled—she could see for miles at least. Those were the eyes of a Builder. Darn if that wouldn’t be the best story told at Vic’s yet once she got back.

Rumination and Flowers

“What are you doing?” the Builder asked.

“It’s this trick I learned from a traveler once,” Lavinia replied.

She sat in the flower garden, wrapping the stems of freshly cut daisies together. The Builder towered over her after repairing the old statue at the center of the garden. Evidently, it could still find ways to meet its desire to rebuild while watching over Lavinia. When she finished weaving the flowers, she sat them on her head and smiled up at the Builder.

“See? It makes a crown!”

The Builder stared down at her for a moment.

“You cut the flowers to make headwear?” it asked.

“You ain't gotta be so dismissive about it…” she said, deflating a bit.

“I apologize, perhaps I misunderstand. Is there a significant purpose to this?”

“A purpose? Uhhh…” She scratched the back of her head, “Well, it looks pretty.”

It tilted its head to the side. “But does the visual gratitude of your crown not decline over time? What is pretty now will wither and die in mere days. What purpose do you gain from expending your own limited time on this world to create an even more impermanent object?”

“Golly, that’s a real grim outlook…”

Lavinia laid back in the flower field, looking up at the late afternoon sky and the giant looming over her. She couldn’t deny it had a point. There were about a hundred other things she could have been doing with the time she spent getting to the garden and making the crown. But does that mean it was time wasted?

“I think… the process of creating something unique is what gives it meaning. You understand that, right?”

It tilted its head to the side. “Do I?”

“Well, I mean, you’ve gotta.” she said. “Why else would you Builders always go around putting ruins back in order?”

“It is our prime directive,” the Builder replied.

“I get that, and I understand you’re machines. But you’re also a heck of a lot more intelligent than the motors and appliances I tinker with back home. Why do you like putting wrecked towns and bridges back in order again?”

“Why?" it repeated. "Hm. No one has ever asked me that…”

The Builder sat down behind the garden and seemed to be thinking as Lavinia looked up at it. Getting into a philosophical discussion with a giant robot wasn’t something she ever pictured herself doing.

“Perhaps I rebuild the ruins for the same reason your mother planted this garden,” it finally said. “It offers future use and enjoyment to those who come after we are gone. I do feel pride in my creations, though.”

“See?” Lavinia smiled, “It’s a good feeling, whether it’s making a flower crown or a building. If you can find enjoyment in doing something, even if it’s not inherently constructive, then it’s worth doing. You give it purpose by choosing to do it.”

The Builder looked out across the ruins. They were silent and desolate; a somber view across the river from Seventy-Seven. At least, that’s how they always were to Lavinia. Perhaps it was different for this Builder, and every other. Maybe they saw a blank canvas to create their art. To them it could be beautiful. And with their example, they could be beautiful to Lavinia too.

“I don’t suppose you could weave me a crown too…?” it sheepishly asked.

“Erm. I’m not sure there are enough flowers in the whole state to make a crown your size,” Lavinia replied.

“Aw…”