I'm not a conventional person. I was not born, I awoke with amnesia. I had family, friends, a degree—Picayune did, at least. Not me. Not Cyl.
All I've known is war and carnage amongst the stars. Here? There's so much to do...
What do I make of myself, then?
ㅤ there's a funny thing about ' purpose ' .
ㅤ to lay yourself on a brick road of ' purpose ' and believing your whole life is tied to one thing , you're only destined for misery .
ㅤ there's lots to see and lots to do . maybe we could brainstorm something .ᐣ
Maybe.. but it doesn't matter to her. She doesn't need money. She doesn't have to afford things to convenience her life. She lives forever, without the need for food or a car or a home even.
And quiet, and indifferent. She had only brief moments of solitude between the bombardments of monsters. She found solace in the company of the constellations.
reality.
Her eye flashed towards him as he beamed a grin. The vibrant red glass retina substituting her left eye began the process of scanning him—as it did with everything and everybody, really.
".. My name, legally, is Picayune Moore. I prefer Cyl."
"In all fairness, my only directive was to save the Earth."
She mused. Despite her monotonous voice and simplistic, almost mechanical way of thinking, she still held some humanity to her in her personality. The truth about her purpose was much more complicated than that in
ㅤ that reply eases kal further . he floats just a little ways away from the nest , making sure their wellbeing stays steady with the rain .
ㅤ“ not many share that sentiment . that's special . ”
ㅤ he comments , giving the cyborg a grin .