Thank you once again _sleepy.moth_ for this great peice!
Yancy spent the day in Illinois' work shed, trying to carve and chip away at a stone. He wanted to make Benjamin a gravestone himself, but he had no artistic skill, and he was right-handed, to begin with. He kept chipping too far no matter how careful he was with the mechanical arm. His accuracy of what he wanted was off.
The whole time, while Illinois was at work in town, Yancy was struggling with the stone. He was so focused he hardly touched the snacks Illinois had put in there for him so he didn't have to get up.
It was a frustrating process of over-correcting and clumsy mistakes.
Illinois had told him a gravestone wasn't necessary, but Yancy insisted. He wanted to prove to himself he really was serious. He wanted to make sure this wasn't easy so he could be sure he was apologizing the best he could.
As he worked, he thought about how he really didn't know Benjamin. Benjamin was nice, and he knew the basics about why Benjamin was at the facility, but at the end of the day that's all he knew. He truly did feel like, under different circumstances, the two would have been friends. Benjamin had seemed to be a kind, likable guy.
Yancy wasn't, but he felt in some other universe, where he never got caught up with the wrong crowd in the very beginning, he could have been a good person. Maybe that version of him, that Daniel who wouldn't need a fake name to hide from the reality of who he was, could have been best friends with Benjamin.
Instead, here Yancy sat, carving a headstone for a good man he never knew. Instead, he was learning how to use a robotic limb while wrestling with guilt, logic, and even anger. Instead of being Daniel Jones, a boy with the potential to be whatever he wanted, with the potential to do good, and make people smile, he was Yancy. A Frankenstein monster of a person, with unbearable guilt, constantly ripping at his insides.
He finished creating the makeshift, clumsy-looking gravestone shortly after Illinois got home. Yancy felt like the stone was offensive to Benjamin's memory. Like spitting at a person instead of giving flowers. Several spots were chipped too deep or, making some letters unrecognizable. Other lines of the letters were too short or too long. There were no curves in the letters, efficiently making it look like a caveman made it.
As he was considering tossing it (both the gravestone and the idea), Illinois came in.
" How's it goin?" Illinois asked, leaning on the table.
" It's as good as it's gonna get" Yancy replied, defeated. " I don't know nothin about him, so it ain't too personalized, and it ain't pretty, but I... did the best I could"
Illinois smiled" As long as you did the best you could, you did perfectly." He came over to help Yancy up, "There's a spot near the edge of the clearing with a bunch of dandelions"
Yancy carefully got up with Illinois' assistance. He held the stone carefully in his metallic arm. " Ain't Dandelions weeds? That sounds sorta disrespectful..."
" Yeah, most people classify them as weeds. But I think they're amazing."
Yancy frowned "why?" He could remember his mother every summer and spring, tirelessly trying to get rid of the large patches of yellow weeds in their lawn.
Illinois helped him outside," They're strong. They grow and thrive anywhere the seeds land. Kids wish on them like they wish on stars. They just... feel like an embodiment of hope."
The patch of yellow and white flicked softly in the wind. Hope, but for what? A better future? A patch of joy someday? Or just peace. Satisfaction. Hope for rest, or an opportunity to breathe and just be. Hope for the day that there's no more 'next step' because, in this hopeful future, the destination is met.
Illinois helped him walk to the patch of hopeful weeds. " I ain't ever been to a funeral..." Yancy said. " I don't know how this works..."
" This is for you, Yancy. It works however you want"
"Youse ain't gonna help me here...?"
"Only because I know you don't need it. Think of this all as a... first-grade art assignment. You've been coloring in the lines for so long. Coloring sheet after coloring sheet. Everything defined. You don't get to make things for yourself. I'm giving you a blank sheet of paper. No wrong answers here. No lines. Nothing to help with."
Yancy looked to the dandelions, before nodding and setting down the rock, so the name was facing the sky.
"It's a pretty day..." Yancy said, carefully sitting on the ground.
Illinois sat next to him, "It really is. Warm, pretty, bright. It has been for a few weeks now..."
Yancy pulled his human leg to his chest, letting the metal one rest in the grass. The dark metal of his foot seemed to deny light. Despite the warm light covering them, making almost everything seem bright and beautiful, the metal refused to do the same.
"Ain't it funny, how the worlds so pretty? Everyone always sayin they hate the world, but they forget the world is so much more than... whatever we are. I feel like that's part of the problem. Us thinkin it's just... us."
Illinois just listened, with a bit of a curious look on his features. Yancy could hear chirping in the trees. He could hear the wind overtaking the leaves. The sounds of the world.
" Those birds up there. They ain't bothered by us. While my own world is just... fallin apart, theys just singin. It's another day for them. Another beautiful day with sun, and warmth."
He looked at the poorly crafted grave. " It was an accident... I pushed him out of the way. I didn't know how strong it was... but it was still me... I wish I could tell him, face to face, that I'm so sorry. I'd do anythin to explain myself. I guess closure really is what I need"
The mechanic still listened. Yancy glanced over to see if he seemed bored. To his relief, he didn't. Illinois was listening intently, looking interested. Yancy still wasn't sure of Illinois's motives. Maybe it was just to keep him calm and subdued... but at this moment, he needed this. Even if Illinois was using this for his own gain, he was right. Yancy needed closure.
Yancy looked at the grave. " I'll never get an answer back from him. I didn't even know him well enough to know if he'd accept this apology... But..."
He went quiet. Even the soft wind was louder. But that was okay. This was for Yancy. No one needed to hear him. He just needed to say it.
"'m sorry, Benjamin... I really am..."
—
Everything was a dead end. Everything that S had access to, at least. He typed away at the monitor, huffing at every beep that meant 'no luck'.
J, their unofficial leader, looked over his shoulder, leaning on the back of the chair. "Any progress?" He asked, looking at the code that he had no chance of understanding himself.
"No. I'm trying to hack into the place myself, just to see what route whoever did it took. It's a top-secret facility, though. There really is no clean way in. Xander said it himself. The hacking job was seamless. But every way I'm finding would leave an obvious trail. The more I'm looking, the more I'm convinced it was someone on the inside."
J frowned, "so you think whoever hacked it was in the building...?"
"Not necessarily. The person would have to have been in the security control room. Which is where Xander said he was when I asked. Whoever hacked it only hacked wherever Daniel Jones was. So they weren't concealing themselves somewhere in the building, either." S said, cleaning his thick glasses with his shirt.
"I think the place was bugged. But nothing big. Otherwise, the facility security would have found it. There's something called a 'Micro Interception Chip'. MICs aren't produced for sale. Even illegally. Everyone understands it's too much of a risk. Producing this stuff is like opening Pandora's box." He put his glasses back on
"But on the rare occasion that an MIC is made and made well, a person can remotely control or spy with little to no show of it. It's rare, but I think it makes the most sense here. If Xander will me, I can take a good look over the system. It would be in a control room, in a main computer. I don't think it'd take me too long to find it, if a MIC is what's being used"
"So it was an employee?"
"Or a past one. Someone sneaking in without the hacking assistance is super improbable. So it was someone, who at some point, had or has access to the inside of there."
J nodded "And if it's an... MIC, and you get it, then what?"
"Well, the next step is childs play." S said with a shrug.
"The MIC chip would have a direct connection to some sort of device the hacker owns. We track that, find them, and do our job"