earth zero [g/t]

file3792;log:0001

Eat
Work
Sleep
Repeat
Life was the same, monotonous routine for Number Thirteen. It was drilled into his mind, to the point where he could do it almost mindlessly and the months would speed by like a traincar.

It was nice to know, if you wasted your life away, you could at least pretend it was for a good cause.

The alarm blared, jarring him violently from a dreamless sleep. He slid out of his nest (if it could even be considered that) and trudged down the small hall like a zombie, filing into a machine-like line of others, each neatly filed into numbers; Twelve was in front of him, and Fourteen was behind. They all shuffled through the hallway, into the cafeteria, and would be served the same, disgusting slop. It was hard to eat, it tasted as if death and body fluids had a child, and it didn't help that everyone always smelled worse than that.

Breakfast passed in a blur and they were all soon forced out into a tiny holding area, massive machines pushing and pulling them into order. Once again, he ended up behind Twelve.

"What?" He stumbled over his mouth.

"I said, how's it going?" Twelve glanced back at him with wide, darkened eyes. Thirteen could barely snap himself out of the autonomous mindset to answer.

"Same as al-" He broke off as one of the machines violently grabbed Twelve's neck and snapped it forwards, a sickening crunching sound coming from it. Twelve was still for a moment, before collapsing to the ground and being dragged away by the machines, a small streak of blood smearing the pristine metal floor. He didn't question it. Eleven would be the new Twelve. There was always a new Twelve.

There was a loud alarm, a crackly, cheery voice blared through before it cut off. The line jolted forwards, Thirteen nearly stumbling into Eleven. He lost track of how long of a walk it was, slowly sloping up, but he knew it was almost hours, numbers breaking off from the back every once in a while to go to their tunnels.

It reached Thirteen. Almost on instinct he turned into his tunnel, the smooth metal turning to forgiving pitch black soil. It slowly grew brighter, and soon he burst to the surface. The stench of decay and rot overwhelmed his nose, but he ignored it. He had a job to do. Massive corpses rose from the ground like hills as he weaved between them.

It was like a timeline of decomposition. The bodies went from mostly skeletons and metal; to writhing, decaying flesh; to bloating and sickening colors. He payed no mind to those, he was on the look out for something specific, and eventually he found it.

A fresh corpse, not yet carved into. He sniffed, wiping his face with his sleeve before pulling himself up onto it, wincing as the flesh shifted beneath him. Letting out a low breath, he scooted forwards on the chest until he got to the neck. He got to his feet, using it's jaw to steady himself, before he pulled the long carving knife from his belt. Taking a deep breath, he pried the jaw open and stuck his upper torso in its, rotting mouth.

Quickly, as to not let the metal close in on him, he started sawing the tongue as near the base as he could. No matter how hard he tried, he would never forget these parts. He knew it was ok, this was what was wanted, this was what he lived to do, but there was always a familiar sinking feeling in his stomach. It unnerved him.

He let out a low breath as there was a snapping sound and he quickly yanked back on the tongue, wincing as the back of his head rammed into a tooth. He didn't hesitate to toss the tongue to the side, before shoving himself into the mouth, as deep as he could.

As he got deeper, pulling himself into the throat, metal and flesh pressed in around him, making him shudder. He was as careful as possible to not damage the metal, but he always wondered what would happen if he did.

It had been a long, long grueling day, but he finally got all the organs out. He sat on the sliced open belly, taking deep breaths. The stench was enough to make anyone heave until they coughed out their lungs, but he was used to it. He wished he could clean himself though, blood coated him to the point where he could barely see his skin.

Thirteen closed his eyes, the smallest bit of what felt like bliss slipped passed his programed brain. The silence was beautiful. He didn't know how long he sat like that, but eventually, he realized there was a massive figure was looming over him. Instinctively, he slid off of the corpse and started trying to pile up the organs, but a large, weathered hand reached down and scooped a few up.

"I've got that, boy." A harsh voice croaked, and Thirteen vaguely nodded. He liked the Harvester. They were a tall, weathered man who looked sickly, and would sometimes give Thirteen treats. They were nice. The small being watched in silence as the Harvester gathered up organs, putting them in a large, metal back pack.

"Good boy." The harvester purred, and Thirteen dipped his head. "Perfect organs, nothing missing. Have a treat." Thirteen whipped to face them, eyes wide. The Harvester fiddled with something before pulling out an old piece of meat and lowering it towards him. He didn't hesitate to snatch it from the massive fingers and tear into it, primal instinct taking over. It wasn't fresh, but that was ok. The Harvester looked on for a few moments before turning and picking their way through the field of corpses, quickly eating up distance. Thirteen watched with wide eyes, finishing the meat off.

He wished he could go with them instead of repeat the programmed schedule.

~~~~~~~~
Wooo, work on/finish old projects?? Nah, write a new book because it's cool. Kinda short but eh. It goes how I want it lol.