Death De Facto

[ Caution! Story contains character death and hints at grief.]

There was a tingle in his wiring, gently nudging him awake from his resting position beside the power outlet. He didn’t feel anything, as it took a while for all of his software to kick in – but once it did, he found that he still felt off. Just wrong.

               He peeked out of the window, checking to see what time it was, before remembering that he had a clock built into his system. An older clock, but one nonetheless. Reading it, the time said “fourteen forty-five.” It was way too late for him to be online.

               Standing to walk to his partner – who was still awake, despite not having slept since twelve in the afternoon – he stumbled over himself again and again. Surges of electricity flowed through mechanical veins, interrupting his sensors and leaving him “breathless”. As breathless as you can be without breathing, at least.

               Junebug sat farther across the room, eyes fixated on the hologram-screened PC in front of him. He didn’t notice Pitch, or his struggles with movement. Instead, he groaned in frustration as he lost another round of the game he was playing, slamming his desk and causing the screen to flicker. This made Pitch stumble more, frightened by the sudden noise.

               Pitch, upon making it to the table, collapsed. The closest comparison his electronically charged mind could produce was the word “exhaustion.” He was exhausted and would pass out again soon, surely.

               “June,” His voice was gentle and low, glitching as he took careful steps between each word. “Something is wrong with my sensors. They are not working the same as a few days ago. I feel exhausted, and exhaustion is not something I am programmed to understand.”

               Upon hearing this, Junebug near instantaneously shut off his computer. His movements afterwards were slow; wary. Appearing concerned, he rotated his chair in such a way to face Pitch, bent over with his hands in his lap.

               “You’re exhausted? Speak to me about that. Describe your exhaustion.” He inquired, tilting his head a little to the left. He then reached to one end of the table, picking up a tablet and digital pen, as well as his glasses. Pitch began to speak as Junebug started jotting things down, adjusting his glasses periodically as he did so.

               “My exhaustion feels fuzzy. Soft, like silk. I feel as if my battery is low, and yet, I have just enough energy stored to continue functioning for the next twelve hours.” Pitch managed to follow his words with a sigh. A small, relieved sigh that could only be produced from his cooling system finally shutting off. He must not be overheating anymore.

               Junebug took this time to jot a few more things down on his tablet. He appeared to be shaking, as though he was nervous about something. His writing was stressed, under pressure – but otherwise, he seemed calm. “And do you feel like you’re being pulled away? As though you’re disconnecting from yourself?” He’d asked.

               “I do, yes. Somewhat. I feel unreal, as though I am floating outside of my metal.” Pitch put a hand on his forehead, a groaning noise emanating from his chest, similar to how a human would sound. “I also have something like a migraine, another thing I shouldn’t understand.”

               In a bout of silence, Junebug pondered to himself. For a few moments, he appeared lost in thought, with Pitch waiting patiently for some kind of response. It felt like ages before he finally spoke up, scaring Pitch in the process.

               “You’re fine, I’m sure.” Junebug said, the concern in his voice only slightly covered up by false security, and the smile that resided on his face.  “You’re likely just experiencing a malfunction. We can fix you up in the morning, when the doctors are open.”

               With that, he stood, making his way over to Pitch and picking him up. Holding him in his arms, grip decently firm given the weight of his partner, he walked back to the pile of blankets and pillows that Pitch had laid in just a few minutes prior. He first set him down, then plopped onto the bedsheets beside him.

               Pitch, prompted by Junebug relaxing next to him, decided to lay his head on his chest. Within seconds, he started dozing off, before being interrupted by Junebug’s ramblings.

               “Pitch. Do you remember when we used to set up pillow forts when we were younger?”

               His motors whirred for just a moment as he analyzed his memories, finding a few speckles of time where they’d built pillow forts together. This was a yearly tradition, and Pitch seemed to have remembered through some kind of deep-rooted databanks.

               Glancing up at Junebug, he grinned. “I do remember, June. Those were very fun days, weren’t they?”

               With an awkward smile, Junebug wrapped an arm around Pitch. He sighed, nodding his head. “You’re right. Those were lovely days, and I’d love to spend more of them with you. You’re an amazing person, for being a robot, you know.”

               Pitch’s internal fan kicked on again, and he closed his eyes while his body tried to readjust its temperature. Tilting his head downwards, back to his resting position, he groaned again. He readjusted a little bit before finally settling down, allowing Junebug to continue his ramblings.

               “You remember all those celebrations, don’t you, Pitch? All our Halloween parties, Christmas gatherings with family – the gifts…” He trailed off, humming in satisfaction. “We used to dress up when we were younger, as soldiers. You would always joke about being in the army, because of how you can’t feel. Guess that was a lie, wasn’t it?”

               Pitch nodded gently, feeling his own body’s systems begin to shut off. Feeling his partner’s hands begin to tremble yet again, likely from the joy of the memories. He was falling asleep to Junebug’s words and touch, visions flickering in his view every time he was reminded of the past. The smile on his face remained, though it slowly started to fade as he drifted off.

               Junebug’s voice became distance after a while, and soon, there was nothing. Nothing but silence and, once the memories could no longer be accessed, dark black. Following this silence and darkness, he felt himself shutting down entirely. Systems that should be functioning while on sleep mode, no longer doing so. Once again, a mechanical sigh could be heard as his cooling system had shut off for the final time.

               Moments later, it had all faded to nothing, not even black – and a small tear of oil streamed down Pitch’s face as he’d passed, returning from the rest he’d just came out of.