h1

Glint – Part 1 – Piece 3

March 2, 2011

3.

“Dang dang dang!” sounded a bell from the front of the mansion. The sound caught the robot for a second, but a whimper from the girl brought it back into action. It started down the verandah’s clean stone steps and into the garden. Again the bell rang out, this time accompanied by the faint barking of dogs. Instinct spurned her to leave, but strangely enough, she did not know why.

The robot turned and looked at the house and a wave of nostalgia and hurt rushed over it. Emotions flooded in, but no memories illuminated the feelings. It was reluctant to leave with no answers. Hope that there would be any answers was struck down yet again by the ringing bell. It knew it must be chased away from this place and that if it was going to get away, then it must get away right now. It creaked into motion.

Paths of smooth white stones were crunched underfoot as they led the way across the open lawns behind the house. Past the lawns were flower beds that flowed in a gradation of colour from light yellows onto dark blues. The final flower beds ended and she slipped into the shadows of hedge-animals. Among these shadows and beasts anyone might be forgiven for mistaking the robot for a person.

In a hundred paces it would have reached the wood. It stopped, however, under the trunk of a great green elephant. Behind them the bright white house glowed in the growing darkness. Torch light flickered eerily from its windows and down both its sides. A single, strident ring of the bell called out like the dying wail of a mechanical beast. It was the last thing either of them ever saw of the house. The robot turned and made the final approach to the woods at a steady jog, staying close to the cover of the hedge creatures that all appeared to be marching north.

At the last part of the garden the hedge animals ceased, replaced by a small flower garden with benches circling an impressive fountain. Standing in the center, more life like than even the robot, a statue stood of an armed warrior women. Sword across her breast, long braids falling down the sides of her helmeted head, she stared down at the robot with stern, sad eyes. The face was much like the robot’s: Beautiful, unchangeable, unreadable, and asexual.

Only for a moment did the staring eyes of the statue slow the robot’s pace. It rechecked its hold on the girl and without another look backwards entered the woods.

 

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