Picking Up a Giant Robot
This world was rotting away, decaying at a snail's pace. Life was so damn harsh that everyone was scrambling just to survive, and you couldn't find a shred of humanity or morality anywhere. A future once foretold in the distant past. That's the kind of world where I woke up—in the body of a little girl.
On an operating table surrounded by blood, tools, and equipment. I didn't know a thing. Why my body was like this, where I was, why I was here... But not knowing shit didn't mean life was over. I survived—clinging on with everything I had.
...Well, maybe "clinging" isn't the right word. It carries some weird connotation. Everyone fights tooth and nail just to live. Degrees don't mean jack. You endure, you live. You don't, you die. That's it.
Just scraping by day after day somehow got me this far. Hindsight, I guess. 'Snapped out of it and here I am.'
I gazed up at the overcast sky, running my hand along my back. Under the plastic gown, soft skin gave way to the sudden cold bite of metal crossing the middle of my spine.
'Useless hunk of junk. Just gets in the way.' Probably tied to the facility where I woke up. What else explains waking on an operating table? What even is this? Sandevistan? Looks like an implant. Too bad I don't have a clue how to use it. Hell, I doubt it even works.
The place was already a wreck when I came to. Gunfire and explosions raging outside—I barely escaped with my life. So how the hell was I supposed to know anything? Went back a few days later, and it was total ruins. The mystery steel replacing my spine? No answers left.
Here's your new spine. What the fuck, give it back. Honestly, it's kinda badass, so not that bad.
Anyway. Starting from nothing, knowing zilch, I did whatever it took to survive. Sold my hair, odd jobs. Even tried pickpocketing. Got caught a few times early on—beat half to death.
Truth is, survival ain't noble. It's dirty, ugly as sin. But what can you do? It's instinct.
No plans anyway, so I just kept going. Today, too, I chewed down a ration and stared at the gray sky.
Why is the world I live in such a shithole? Hell if I know. Worrying about the next meal is bad enough—no time for big-picture crap.
Best guess? A bit further into the future from my past life memories. Not some fantasy world—familiar country names, place names pop up...
Population booms, fights over resources, wars break out, governments weaken bit by bit. Ends up like this. Overheard enough scraps from people to piece that together.
That's it, though. No easy info access like my old life. Society's chaos means most "news" is rumor-mill garbage. Try digging? Get your ass kicked and booted.
A kid like me can't even watch TV news freely. Filthy adults.
'But ain't this enough?'
World's a mess, folks are desperate, life's tough. Good enough. Digging deeper won't magic food onto my plate.
Plus, too much curiosity is poison. Stick to what I can know. Plenty.
...But I didn't get it then. Why the old sages always said info's worth its weight in gold. Knowing a storm's coming changes your fate from one who doesn't.
Even if the "storm" is a 10-meter-tall metal behemoth.
That day was like any other. I'd bundled up my plastic gown dried overnight and stepped out to rummage the streets like a starving raccoon.
Overcast sky, harsh world.
"Hey, brat, get lost. Nothing for you."
"…."
Sharp folks, too. Yep, world's consistent.
No pity for kids. Stand there a sec? Boot to the gut.
Doesn't faze me. Never think much anyway.
Splash! Mid-hustle, I paused and stared into a roadside puddle. Clouds reflected like a carpet. Made me imagine walking on the sky like a kid.
'I am a kid, though.'
Rippling puddle showed a girl with hair flowing past her shoulders. Me. No grooming—luxury I can't afford. Puddle hides color, but tugging a strand reveals dull gray, like the world. Frizzy from hardship.
'Used to maintain it to sell...'
Too much hassle now. Learned long hair's a great handle for grabs. Gotta eat while growing it out, dodge chases. Ended up twisting the useless locks as I wandered alleys all day.
City prowling brought a nagging familiarity. Senses on alert.
Nothing pinpointed logically. Just... the city felt more chaotic than usual. Whispers everywhere, more cars zipping by.
'People's eyes look scarier.'
Imagination? Nah, gut feeling. Upped my guard, poked alleys more cautiously.
Hours later.
"……!"
Vroooom!! Digging scrap piles for batteries, air split with a roar. Ignored it as plane noise.
'When'd it get this close?'
Unnaturally sharp. I jolted, looked up.
Whoosh!
'Fighter jet?'
A jet streaked low across the sky.
'Why so low?!'
Before questions cleared, sirens wailed citywide, ear-shattering.
What the hell?
Rumble... Sirens blared, but air-tearing roars persisted. Multiple jets.
Chill down my spine.
'Fighters? Actual war here?'
Makes sense. World's fucked. But me in the battlefield?
'Morning vibes were off 'cause of this.'
Should've eavesdropped more. Ominous rumbles dragged on. Caught in it.
'Fucked.'
What now? Panicking, seeking shelter anywhere—then.
"……?"
Far off, a psshht like air hissing. Not thruster.
Pop-pop! Like popcorn.
Glanced up instinctively—red flash over a building.
'Missile.'
Smaller than jets. Tiny projectiles from somewhere chased the jet overhead.
Boom…! Ground shook; I lost balance.
Thud! Gray world crumbled. Gunfire erupted on streets.
Dazed on my ass, tracing missile path—
Vroooom!! Roar swept overhead again, same trajectory.
"…!"
Dust-choked sky. My retinas caught a silhouette too alien for a fighter. Short fuselage, tall profile. Leg-like struts below... Legs?
...Arms then? Long after it passed, I pieced it together, mumbling like an idiot.
"…Robot?"
Must've eaten something bad.
'Robot... robot?'
Tranced, chasing its path—
Quake! Ground flipped; body lifted.
Ah.
"Cough, cough."
Head spinning. Usual fog, but not maggot-crawling bad.
How long out? Fed lungs air, assessed slowly.
'Anything busted?'
Lucky—concrete collapsed right, cushioning. Leg pinned by debris, but no break. Scrapes ignorable.
'Need antibiotics.'
Infection kills quick here. Checked back implant.
'Spine intact.'
Lucky again. Pain sucked, but I swallowed screams, crawled from rubble.
"……."
City to ruins in a blink. Not long out, but gray before and after—same shit.
Snickered inwardly, scanned around. Armed runners, bodies strewn, screamers... Some dead, some alive. Some alive but down.
Mind blank, staring—then eyes snagged somewhere.
'Smoke?'
Far off, massive plume. Not rising—erupting. Dwarfs local wisps. Draws eyes from afar.
Feet pulled there. Wreckage cleared my tiny world—clear view.
What's there? Vroooom! Jets overhead en route; gunpowder reek thick. Ignored, trudged blankly.
Gunfire ramped up nearing. Foggy head cleared a bit.
'Too close, risky.'
Climbed debris mound for vantage. Small hands suck at climbing.
"Ngh."
Finally summited. Source of fire pillar nearby.
"Robot."
Not wrong. Slightly different shape.
-"Get lost! Finder's keepers!"
-"Aaaagh—"
Carnage center: massive metal hunk sprawled against ruined building like a throne, crashed hard. Before me, a Gulliver in the land of tiny people—a tin giant shipwrecked.