this world will break your heart

Part 2: The Hersteller - Chapter 17

There's a weird tension in the air over dinner. Everyone is sitting in their little clumps and groups but something is different...a little bit off. Despite the appearance of normalcy, it feels like we're in a plasma. Some people keep looking at others with that smile that masks anticipation. I'm scraping the bottom of my bowl, finishing off some avocado pudding, when I notice Francis Neufchatel joining us.

He's not alone.

I immediately recognize them as shadows. Their rusted metal parts reflect on every surface. That glow and glassy burnt smell of chemicals announce their arrival before they even step into the room. The giggling makes it official.

Shadows brought into the light. The Gatherers are here.

"What it that?" Clara asks, seated next to me, and confused by the creatures that flank Francis Neufchatel on every side. There are at least twenty of them, dressed in whatever they've scrounged from garbage cans and house fires. In this greyest of places, they are bright and bold. Ideas of clothes, bits, and pieces of leftovers, and mysterious substances cover them. They move like a swarm, their nervous energy infuses every space while simultaneously sucking out any hope.

I've never seen them inside a building before. Without their usual alleyways and corners to hide behind, they look out of place; caged but larger in an open space. I recognize the one whose hand I broke. He clearly hasn't had it set, as his fingers jut out in different strange directions. It actually looks like he's made his deconstructed hand a feature, not something that needs to be fixed.

The Real Humans stop what they are doing and focus on the grotesque parade. I watch their glittering, enthusiastic high-fives, and maniacal giggling. They rush in like a tidal wave of nervous energy draped in excitement, like a million fuses sparking and blowing out at once, and then resetting to begin the cycle again.

Francis Neufchatel stands proudly behind the swarm, like a beekeeper unleashing his charges in an enclosed space. Next, to him, Finn and Nellie try to smile but their uncertainty is clear. Who the fuck are these guys? Why do they deserve this announcement?

One of the Gatherers squeezes next to me at my table. Unaware of personal space, invitation, or boundaries, her body is so close. Clara almost immediately turns away, confronted with a dirty object. I think she's wondering if she can vacuum this shapeless young woman into decency. The Gatherer grabs some bread from the center of the table and shoves it into her metal mouth, making the sounds of rusty hinges as she chews with broken teeth.

"Welcome, welcome, my friends." Francis Neufchatel smiles a plastic greeting as the Gatherers integrate themselves at every table. There are enthusiastically grabbing for avocado pudding and stale bread. They relish the crumbs and eat loudly, snapping jaws and shoving them back into place when they become stuck or dislocated. As for us Real Humans quiet down with the shock of the new, the Gatherers don't. The sounds of smacking, shoveling, and scraping fills that dining area.

Next to Clara, Hakeem can't even engage with what's going on. He looks down at his food, eyes squarely on his bowl. Living at Fred's, he must have assumed the same downward eyes every time he left the house.

"Would you animals shut the fuck up?" he screams at them, and the Gatherers don't dare to speak. He is Mal, their leader. "It's like you've never seen some food before. Well, maybe you haven't...some of you. Maybe you're so used to eating packets of Nutrophils and bars that you don't know what real food tastes like."

Standing up next to Francis Neufchatel, Mal looks unlike someone who has just been introduced ten seconds ago. He's almost too comfortable in this space. He doesn't behave like a guest; it's more like he's the true owner of the Hersteller, returning after some time away. The cloth rags, hardened with dirt and medical waste, hide what is probably someone who has constructed himself to be this 90% bot, but 100% crazy. The 10% human might be the most dangerous part. With a mix of fluid and corrosive materials coursing through his veins, Mal has a presence. You can tell he likes the way he puts people on edge, the unpredictability of his gestures, and how that wide locked smile never leaves his face.