heavenlystranger

i'm writing again. here's a segment:


Quite far above them, a guardian silently died. She (they were made to look female, for reasons so quaint there was no longer a language for them) let her internal circuitry fade in sections inside of her, as they had once glowed to life, one by one. She could feel herself dying; years of nothing but the wind and her few remaining sisters had given her a sort of daffy self consciousness, and she had known that she would one day fall. But this. The purple lights that were inset on various places in her body were winking out and she had no idea it would be like this, so slow. The great wings still pumped, but she could feel them waver. It would come so soon, yet there was nothing she could do to prepare for it; she must fulfill her programming until the end. She felt the hands that built her as her wings began to shake, hands that had rotted away unknowably long ago, hands that were now dust of dust of dust. One of her sisters passed her and there was no regard from her or any of the others. She did not expect regard, though she knew they must possess the same assembled consciousness as she did.
It went like this: One moment she was operating shakily, the next she was falling. She moved her useless metal hands through the now screaming wind, her decorative fingers stuck together with rust. There were thoughts whispering through the mossy nodes that made up her brain and these thoughts were pointless. Her wings sliced the smoky air into pieces. She fell into the eye of the city and her last thought before she slammed into the side of a skyscraper was of her maker's hands and the way the rings he wore ticked quietly against her cold surfaces.

thanks for reading
h.s.