Invictus Mechina

the dawn of a new day...

10336821 awakes. alongside awake all.
it was a new day that was about to be exactly as new as all other days, the Neoman had transmitted this thought to himself and to his corresponding siblings.
there was no reply, there never was.

It gets out of his container, having spent the time portion known as 'night' (a term that has remained embeded in the colective memory since the days of flesh) refueling his own body.
the Neoman felt refreshed.
he disconnected himself from the machine that held him, taking long, measured steps out of his containment area.
his sensors were bombarded with the well known scent of carbon bioxide, mixed with a tinge of sulpharic acid, and other materials that were deemed to damage his already wethered body protection suit. his metallic legs clanked heavily, as he made his way to his work post, the same way he has been doing for over a 1000 years.

*ching!*, *ching!*, the sounds of metal being beaten against metal were heard all around. the Neoman surveyed the area, looking for a known and familiar sight.
he found it.
in the corer of the metal-laded street, which was filled with the old Neomen, on a bench that was quite rusty and practically inusable now, sat a Neowoman.
she had been sitting there for as long as he could remember himself. the pathetic image of the old robotic shell, the old labels and names of spare-parts constructors and workshops that were already mostly illegiable because of the acidic rains.
the face was expressionless, as the face of all other Neoman that he knew. yet, there was something there, he could almost sense something in those old, half corrosed and rusty face, 'something about the interior design?' thought the Neoman 'a report must be sent to the overseers. logging as entry 1090223. saved.' the Neoman addresed himself.
and then he walked away, there was no time, to tarry about here, no more than he had already done in the past 1000 years. exactly 10 Standard time units.
he continued down the streets.
the shoddy, ruined bleakness of the Old Neoman area was replaced by the Maniacal Perfection of the Newest Neoman zone.
anywhere you turn, there are angles, buildings that appear to have been built to achieve the kind of perfection that was reserved to the gods of flesh. towering spires that faded into the toxic clouds some thousands of feet above towered above the streets. the streets themselves were perfection in its completion.
nothing was left to randomality, all part of a single master plan.
"we are working to the greater goal" echoed a character-less voice from the many street vocal mechanizems. the voice was chanting the same repeated chant that has been heard here for over 1000 years. 10336821 could not find in his neural data base any reference for an earlier style. funny, he could'nt find any data about anything that has ever happened before exactly 1011 years, 216 days and 3 hours. 21 minuts. 16 seconds. 112 miliseconds. the date of his first memory logging was the following- "we are working for the greater goal. your part in this greater goal is..."

if he was capable of asking a question, 10336821 would've probably wondered what was that greater goal. be he could'nt. he was only there to make sure that his part in it was done.

after a while, he had reached a building, exactly alike all others in this area. he saw a familar sight, an old servo-Neoman, busy building a staircase. the old Neoman was running his eternal errand for over... '1011 years, 216 days and 3 hours. 21 minuts. 16 seconds.