The Apple Tree
The chat window grumbled as always, bored out of their minds. I'm busting my ass maintaining the Kettenkraft, and their whining next to me is getting on my nerves. I almost snap back but just sigh and focus on the work instead.
It's not like this is the first time. Telling them off won't change a thing—it'd just hurt my throat.
I finish up the tweaks everywhere, close the panel, and stretch my back with a satisfying crack.
"Phew... maintenance done. Ahh~ Nothing beats the view after a hard day's work."
I pretend to wipe sweat from my brow and take in the crisp panorama before me. The same open cityscape as always. Sunlight pouring over the haphazard skyscrapers makes it look strangely beautiful somehow. Views from up high have this unbeatable sense of freedom.
(´｀) They always have to pour cold water like that to feel better. I get it. We've been at this a while, so wanting fresh scenery or new creatures is natural.
But since starting my second life in this world, I haven't seen a single living thing besides humans. They might be out there somewhere, but I sure as hell don't know where.
I've said it before—they just forget and keep yapping. 'They know without me saying. Wouldn't wanna see it either.'
The rustle of leaves in the wind, endless green fields stretching out, the scent of grass tickling my nose. Things I took for granted back then are what I crave now. Dreams are one thing, but reality's just barren cities and rubble.
'At least the air's nice and crisp.' That's how we cope—with little jokes like that.
"Unni, how's the ride?"
"Can still go a long way."
"Oh, right. The UFO drone keeps acting like it wants something—what's it want?"
"Ah... just ignore it."
Obedient little Hope hugs the drone and hops into the back seat. The engine roars back to life, and we cut across the long, pristine white road ahead.
No matter how much the chats gripe and curse at the monotonous scenery, we press on.
"Unni, is it true the whole world used to be covered in green?"
"Not just green—full of all sorts of colors. But why ask?"
"Picture books have tons of that. But the world's all white now, not like the books. Even when snow melts sometimes, no green."
"Old folks hated green, so they wiped it all out."
"Ehh? Why? Looked pretty in pictures. Why clear it all and leave just these things everywhere?"
"To survive. Inside's warmer than out. Need walls against wind and snow. We hole up inside too, right?"
"Still, didn't need this many. Everywhere's empty, no people."
"Drone... what’s the UFO saying?"
"Uh... seems like 'dunno'."
Figures—I don't know either. Folks from the far past wouldn't.
Our views are always the same: rubble piles, debris heaps. Or buildings packed so tight you can't see gaps. Like Hope says, why this much...?
Maybe humans just have this urge to create. That's how we advanced science: planes, computers, ships, SNS... all that jazz. But creation breeds destruction, and it outpaces recovery. That's how we got here.
But screw the deep stuff.
"Back then, with all the people, they needed a ton."
"Should've left some. Just empty buildings everywhere."
Puffing up indignantly, Hope. If they'd left some trees or meadows, would it be different? Animals grazing... that kinda scene.
I imagine it, but it ends with blizzards and freezing cold wiping it out.
We finally stop the Kettenkraft in front of a massive building.
"Let's scout here today. Big place like this has to have food."
Hope hops down nimbly. I dismount too and loosen up.
The drone's off. I carry it everywhere 'cause who knows when it'll boot up, but scouting with it dark is a pain—dead weight.
"This place is clean."
Something feels off wandering the building. Signs someone's cleared the debris, swept up.
Who's here? My thought cuts short—other footsteps mix in. From the end of the hall. Getting closer... stops right in front of us.
"……."
"……."
Tension thickens. Hope grabs my hem tight, holding her breath.
I'm debating whether to shoot when the thing ahead bows slightly.
"Welcome?"
That greeting snaps the tension like a string. Not human. A cat robot, about Hope's size, standing on two legs.
"What are you?"
"I'm the robot in charge of managing and guiding this facility."
"What kinda building is this?"
"This is a Nature Exhibition Hall designed for experiencing nature up close. You can take in the wonders of diverse flora, fauna, and ecosystems at a glance."
What? I get what it's saying, but it takes time to process.
Before I can speak, the cat robot chimes in.
"We have a welcome guide service for first-time visitors. Shall I assist?"
"You'll guide us?"
"That's my job. Normally you'd need a ticket, but I'll make an exception this time."
"Real friendly robot, huh."
I say it with a sarcastic edge, but it takes it as a compliment and nods happily.
We follow the cat robot. No dropping our guard.
"You manage this place alone?"
"No. There were others with higher clearance."
"Were... where'd they go?"
"All offline now. Just me."
"You stick around solo?"
"It's my role. And... someone has to maintain it."
"Talk like a person. Other bots I've met were busted, glitching out. You always chat like this?"
"Who knows? Probably varies by unit."
We reach a vast hall. The cat robot fiddles with a machine, and the empty space overlays with grassland. Animals we never see roam inside.
"Unni, look! Just like the books. First time seeing a scene like this since I was born."
The sudden change startles me. Hope's thrilled, bouncing around, reaching to pet them.
But her hand passes through the fluffy fur.
"Eh? Hand went right through?"
Hope's baffled. Same with other animals—no substance.
The cat robot helps her up from the floor.
"All holograms. For viewing only. Don't run—could be dangerous."
Holograms? Looks so real... wait, no.
"What's that? Glitching."
Parts flicker like game bugs. Some animals too, on closer look.
The cat robot paws at its fur sheepishly.
"Machine error. Repair bots should've fixed it, but they're all offline. Minor glitch—ignore and enjoy."
Enjoy with glitches? Sloppy much.
"Can't you fix it?"
"Not my job."
"You've held up well. Everywhere like this?"
"No, there's an interactive exhibit with robot animals. This way."
Next spot: clear sky, fields. Hope perks up from hologram letdown.
"Unni, look! All green here. This one's touchable."
Hope dashes freely. I try too—not real plants. Sky's fake.
"Hey, no animals?"
"Sadly, all broken. But don't worry—I'm here. Feel free to pet me. Special permission."
"Pass."
"Eh... cats are the cutest creatures."
"Cats are cute. Not you."
"Aww."
I step past the drooping cat robot and flop onto the field. Hope joins, lying beside me.
Feels off from what I expected. Fake sky's clear, sunlight perfect, but something's awkward. Better to sprawl in the snow.
Fake's fake, I guess.
"Designed to auto-form immersive real-nature feel."
"That broken too?"
"Yes."
We see more spots. All half-broken, no full enjoyment.
Disappointing? Yeah. But Hope's beaming at first-time wonders softens my meh mood.
"Final area. Plant your own apple tree here. Many visitors did."
"Whoa...... all withered?"
Hope's face falls. Proud intro wasted— just twisted, dead trees. Lifeless, like outside.
"This broken too, right?"
"Well... yeah. But don't despair yet. One still works. Follow me."
Deeper in: one live tree. Tiny, wilted. Pathetic for 'last tree'.
"How was the tour? Hope you enjoyed."
"Total mess. Everything busted— you managing right?"
"I'm just a guide bot."
"If you're still running, try harder. Get visitors that way."
"I am trying my best."
It paws up cutely like a real cat, begging for approval. Annoyingly adorable—I knead its cheeks nonstop. Squishy even for a bot.
No intent to bully, so I stop quick. Not its fault. Impressive it's lasted.
"Any other visitors lately besides us?"
"Not a soul. Thought no one'd come anymore."
"Yet you stayed."
"Like I said—someone has to. This is home. And hey, surprise guests."
"If you like it. Ever hear of Eden?"
"Sorry. Never left, don't know outside."
"Right...."
Rumored Eden. Hoped for info, but no dice.
"Think others'll come?"
It smiles human-like, reading the subtext.
"Life adapts. As long as they don't give up, survivors exist somewhere. Like you here."
"Bot with wisdom."
"I'm no ordinary bot."
I chuckle.
"Seeds left—plant one before you go?"
"Can we? Doubt it'll grow."
"I'll tend it."
I glare at its smug grin. It averts eyes guiltily.
"Me, me! I wanna!"
Hope butts in.
Dead land. One seed changes nothing. Sprouting here, full of flaws? Near impossible.
But ditching the seed denies our own existence. We're not so different from this seed in harsh soil.
"Get used to despair, but don't forget hope."
We dig, plant the seed. Pack up supplies.
"I'll be here as always. Visit if you think of it."
We wave casually. If there's a next time, check the little miracle.
When the broadcast flickers back on, the screen shows oddly happy girls. Something happened off-air, no doubt. Before I can ask, one tosses a question.
"If your last day came, what'd you do with it?"
Viewers baffled by the random query. Event? Then the innocent kid hums a tune: tree, tree...
Viewers catch on. Next day, folks worldwide— no special occasion—go nuts planting trees.