Usu

Jayde Ver Elst

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction, any similarities to living persons or events are purely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition: 2015

eBook ISBN
978-0-9960381-4-0

Softcover ISBN 978-0-9960381-3-3

Published By:

Bad Dream Entertainment
®

www.BadDreamEntertainment.com

Cover Illustration by Moa Wallin

www.MoaWallin.com

Cover Design by Leo Ryberg

The 'EyeBrain' logo is a registered trademark of Bad Dream Entertainment, Seattle, WA.

Original trademark design by Darcray - www.Darcray.com

I
n
a time not yet witnessed, there existed a burrow in a junkyard, with only wasteland for scenery. Within this burrow lived a rabbit. This rabbit did not eat, drink, or even breathe... but this rabbit was most certainly alive. And he was the last thing left alive in the world.

Usu felt a small weight nestled on the tip of his head which, upon further investigation, turned out to be a rather sneaky blob of what one might commonly call 'snow'. Now, he might have lacked the knowledge of what exactly this 'snow' was, but he still knew well enough that it wasn’t something he wanted any part of and so he immediately withdrew his head back into his burrow. Though he did manage a rather wonderful job of teaching the rest of his home the joys of snow while shaking himself clean.

Of course, calling it a home would be more than a little generous, considering that it was constructed almost purely from garbage and contained enough sharp pointy bits within it to cause alarm to even the nastiest of antagonists.

However, murderous design faults aside, this was the only home Usu had. More than that, the junkyard itself, steeped in rubble and held tightly by a strong steel fence, was the full expanse of his world. Meager, yet meaningful.

Awkward snow-shaking completed; Usu happened to spot a shimmer of light out of the corner of his eye. The light was reflecting from a small dirt patch near the base of his artificial burrow and curiosity quickly lured our fluffy hero to investigate. He began with a rather despondent nudge at the patch of dirt, as if to tell it that he wasn’t really all that interested, but also just enough to not let its hopeful expectations go to waste.

The dirt patch responded in the same way you might expect your average dirt patch to do; it began ticking.

Intrigued, but not willing to give in just yet, Usu gave a slightly stronger nudge than before.

Not to be outdone, the dirt patch began emitting a very slight beep and, considering his lack of experience in the 'being messed with' department, Usu placed his ear as close as he could. The result of the patch feeling vaguely threatened and immediately exploding shouldn’t surprise anyone, anytwo, or anythree readers for that matter.

A single thought raced through Usu’s mind as he found his body violently sloshing about in an inexplicable mass of dirt, used rubber ducks, and shells of left-over explosive ordnance that were probably not generally approved as construction material:

Bugger

Escape was then his only desire. Escape from this muddy mushroom cloud of brownish yellow and an awfully strange shade of orange, and most of all―most certainly of all―he wanted to be back on solid ground.

His vision began to clear and, with little more than a moment to thank the theoretical gods he had constructed in the junkyard during his spare time (Apollostyrene and Preparation Hades being noteworthy examples), he found himself thirty feet in the air and on a one-way collision course with the unfortunate reality that is―so often―the ground.

Awakening from his five-hour coma, our hero leaped to his feet, knocked debris from his body and took in his new surroundings.

He was in the midst of a city coated in ice, one of the last cities to survive before all life had crawled to an end. Crumbling skyscrapers, decayed sidewalks, and time-worn towers obscured his vision well enough, but a sudden gust of wind shook his new perspective a step further still. It took all his willpower to stay afoot, something the city couldn't quite brag about itself.

Determined to not only figure out exactly where he was, but also how to get the hell away from it, he slowly stepped forward. Usu being our (particularly unlucky) main character, however, tells us that even the act of walking can be filled with arduous perils. This fact was firmly cemented when, moments into his walk, he spotted something digging through a mound of rubble in the distance.

This 'something', as it was just descriptively referred to, was a large (about five Usu's high and two wide) copper humanoid that appeared to be sorting through the rubble and placing some of it into a mobile furnace attached to its back, pausing occasionally only to complain about 'overtime'.

Relations with this 'something' wouldn’t have been so bad if Usu hadn't then made the perilous mistake of shifting his weight onto a particularly noisy piece of paper; one that almost seemed to have been intentionally placed there by a malevolent author attempting to progress the story along. The result was a crumpling so loud, so foul, so nefarious in all its paper-like glory that windows shattered, cars rattled to false life, and our hero, our poor, ever so fluffy hero was set firmly in the sights of a robotic janitorial menace.

Through a brown paper bag oddly attached to what could vaguely be considered its head, piercing eyes began to glow an eerie red, followed only by what appeared to be steam slowly venting out of various joints. Suddenly, it leapt toward Usu, frothing from the closest thing it had to a mouth. Not to be mistaken for a coward however, Usu decided he would stand his ground, only conceding that the ground he would choose to stand on would have to be very, very far away from his current predicament.

Alleyways are nice places. They are particularly nice places when two tons of mobile metal is trying to murder you and your weapon of choice is a pair of fluffy ears. Usu realized this rather early on in his run for dear life, but that realization did little to deter the steaming bastion of metallic hate that had somehow found itself leaping through the air above him during his detailed appraisal of alleyways as escape routes.

Usu jumped forward, rolling with the grace of a Norwegian taxidermist and the guile of a baked potato. Narrowly escaping death, our hero found himself left with no choice but to run inside the first building outside the alleyway. He ran as fast as his padded feet could take him, leaping over rubble and pushing open the somehow-intact glass doors of what seemed to have once been a hotel.

Left alone for less time than it takes to describe, Usu sought refuge in a dimly lit elevator just across from the main entrance. He didn’t know many things, but he knew going up was probably a good idea. Unfortunately, his predator felt differently and began climbing the elevator shaft as Usu was in mid-escape.

There’s a funny thing about elevators. They’re not really designed to have two tons swinging on their cables whilst a stuffed rabbit inside wonders if it is capable of pissing itself or not. I mean, they could be designed for that sort of thing, if they really wanted to be (not to be oppressive or anything), but this one most certainly wasn’t. The point was proven when the determined death machine grabbed onto the base of the metal box and caused it to come crashing down on the entire inept cast…

You’d think an elevator without a down button wouldn’t have much below it, but then you also think something funny was said a few paragraphs ago and look where that’s gotten you in life, you silly thing, you. This elevator was, of course, the exception. So much so an exception that when our fluffy warrior of cowardice awoke amid piles of concrete and a mist of dust, he determined that he was, in his modest calculations, a few hundred miles (in bunny feet of course) lower than he recalled any of the hotel's reception brochures advertising. The brochures in question also weren’t quite kind enough to alert him to how his proverbial nemesis was just starting to grumble back to life beneath his feet.

Not to be done in by sheer misfortune, Usu crawled inch by inch out of the wreckage, oft accidentally knocking a rock or two onto his pursuer’s half-conscious form. This was probably a subconscious attempt to make friends on his part, a bit like when you slowly poison your math teacher over the course of five years because you like math so much, or when you break your wife’s leg because she thinks your ideas of ceiling related intercourse are 'unrealistic'. Usu was going to be great at making friends. Presuming, of course, that the fuming hunk of sentient metal behind him wouldn't just use his stuffing for purposes the child-friendly packaging clearly defined as unsafe.

Alas, our hero’s attempt at winning hearts through rock throwing appeared to fall on deaf sensors, and before he knew it his escape was thwarted. He now found himself dangling several feet in the air from the arm of a slightly displeased potential murderer. Just as he decided screaming would be a good idea, and just a little bit after he decided having vocal chords and a mouth might make screaming more practical, the fiend reached to Usu’s foot, ripped off the piece of paper that had been stuck there since being stepped on and ground a mechanical sigh of relief as he placed it in his mobile furnace unit.

'“You know, if you hadn't run off like that this would have been
awfully
easier on us both,” said the still-potentially-murderous-thing with a somewhat resentful tone. “Look, I've been set to auto litter duty for the last few hundred years or so. You know what that's like, right? You're what, a childbot? Petbot? Well, I'm a Modbot. Mod being short for modular and bot short for the boot I'd love to shove up the ass of whoever programmed me.”

Usu struggled to find the right words for a response, mostly due to a mixture of awe, confusion, and not having any form of communication ability outside of charades. Yet even still, he was determined to maintain what little peace (and pieces of himself) could be salvaged, proceeding to give an unprecedentedly awkward double-handed thumbs up, with his paws serving as rather large thumb substitutes.

'“You... can't talk? Made in Wales or something? Ah, no matter, I suppose it's easier this way; I argue enough with the sound of just my own voice as things stand.” Modbot's casual acceptance was slightly alarming, but considerably less so than him trying to kill our protagonist mere moments ago. “So anyway, I'd wager we fell, what... four hundred feet or so?” Usu nodding in over-zealous agreement. “Then I'd say we'd best start looking for a way out. I've got preprogrammed schedules to keep and you've probably got inanimate objects waiting to attack you, so the sooner we're out of this dank ruin, the better.”

Placing Usu down and taking his first steps towards the only passage in sight, Modbot half-heartedly motioned a 'follow me' with one hand, before trudging forward, a floor thick in decay doing little to slow him.

Embrace.

I never thought I’d use that word, at least, at least not this way.

Embraced by a creeping cold, everything fades. Was I right? Will she hate me?

Small hands, a crack to kindle tears, I know I cannot be forgiven, not for this.

The darkness comes, and I force a smile. Teeth rotten with the ache of a simple heart, unable to let go of one selfish wish.

Modbot wasn't exactly your everyday garden variety robot. Partially because no one had ever managed to make robots grow from a garden, but mostly because he'd been left on cleaning duty for a century shy of a bigger word. Being modular meant that, with a simple component exchange, he could achieve almost any task, and he most certainly did during the days mankind still pestered about, flies on the dung of the earth as they may have been.