Yair was silent for a moment as he formed a clump of sand into a round ball by smoothing it out between his fingered hand and his arm canon.

In a moment, Nikodemus broke the silence. “So, what were the questions you wanted to ask me, Yair?”

It took Yair a moment to process what, in particular, he wanted to ask the Last Man. Eventually, he decided the most pertinent question to ask had to do with his primary function. “I feel somewhat… antsy because I am unable to perform my primary function. How do you pass the time when you are antsy?”

Nikodemus chuckled as he formed another rectangle on top of the other one he had made, enjoying the rough feel of the sand on his hands. “I don’t know. Sometimes the women let me help with the chores, and other times, I entertain myself by reading. I also like doing anything creative like what we’re doing right now. Something about using my hands to make things relaxes me. To be honest, though, I’ve never even managed to perform my main function, and my function isn’t nearly as exciting as yours. Mine should be an easy function to perform…”

Yair glanced at Nikodemus. Yair searched for the right word in his databanks to describe the man’s leaden facial expression. The robot eventually settled on the right word, nodding to himself. Defeated.

Yair’s empathy algorithm was triggered. He wished to improve Nikodemus’ mood. “On the contrary, I think your function is much harder than mine. Yours is entirely reliant on luck, while I can actually take steps to become better at mine.”

Yair experienced something new as he formed another round ball of sand on top of the previous one. He discovered that he liked the vermillion color that the sun dyed his metal plating, and he liked how the sun made the tiny flecks of sand shine like they were flecks of gold.

Nikodemus smiled dubiously. “I suppose it’s harder when you consider that luck is such a factor where my function is concerned, but your function takes far more talent than mine. It’s not like making babies requires any skill.”

“I don’t know about that, Nikodemus.” Elizabeth chimed in. “Perhaps it does require skill considering that we humans haven’t been able to have a boy in twenty years.”

Yair smiled as Nikodemus pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in exaggerated offense. “Way to rub it in, Elizabeth. Anyway. Is this helping to calm your antsyness, Yair?”

Yair nodded without a word. Despite the fact that his arm canon made it difficult for him to form the sand as effectively as a human could, he found it relaxing because the pressure to do it well and quickly wasn’t present. Additionally, this was an activity he was doing only to please himself, and not to benefit the tribe. He realized that Hilargi was right; art-related activities allowed him to explore his soul, if a robot like himself even had a soul. And something about exploring his soul made him relax.

“I find it frustrating that my arm canon inhibits my ability to help the tribeswomen with their chores. But this activity is soothing.” Yair said as he finished his sand-person.

The robot looked over at Nikodemus’ creation. It was a very distinctive looking fortress with a flag on top, and surprisingly well made. Yair felt embarrassed about his own creation, tempted to smooth it over before Nikodemus could see it, but it was too late.

Nikodemus grinned the type of grin a parent would give their child for drawing a crudely drawn picture. “That looks amazing, Yair! Is it a sand-man?”

Yair had a compulsion to hide his work from Nikodemus, but realized how illogical that would be. He said in his monotone voice, “Yes. It’s supposed to look like Hilargi.”

Nikodemus hid a smile behind his hand, biting back laughter. “I can see it! You really nailed her hair.”

Yair decided that he didn’t appreciate the Last Man’s tone, but at the same time, he couldn’t tell whether he was being oversensitive or not.

“Anyway,” Yair said, trying to clean the sand from his hands by rubbing them together while simultaneously keeping his gaze fixed on Nikodemus’ sand creation. “What did you make? It looks a little like a fortress, but I’ve never seen one with a flag…”

Nikodemus’ blue eyes lit up, excited to impart some of his knowledge to Yair. “It’s a castle. They’re these things that exist in fairy tales. Of course, it’s highly probable that humans truly did live in them a long, long time ago, but our only sources for them existing are the Bible and fairy tales. Humans are creative and all, but I’m not sure they’d be creative enough to make up such a complex architecture as a castle without actually having seen or constructed one, so I think they must have truly existed. They look quite a bit like fortresses though, don’t they?”

Yair nodded, and then he rose to his feet, his metal joints groaning and sand cascading from him. “Yes. They do look like fortresses. I wonder how it is that your human history got deleted.”

Nikodemus glanced at Yair, and then threw a glance over his shoulder at Elizabeth and Annie. He whispered, “I think the Zironists are the ones who destroyed all our books and history.”

Yair found himself agreeing with Nikodemus’ theory, but he didn’t want to say anything out loud for fear of getting in trouble with Annie and Elizabeth. He merely gave a slight nod with his chin.