Android Maria (Part 1)
I met a scientist named Hunter. He was mad, but I was born into mad times, so I listened to him. He claimed to have the cure to the zombie virus; a vial of a yellow liquid he said he had been working on for years. The dead weren’t going to be healed, but the living would no longer live in fear of infection. Along with giving me this promise, he also gave me the location of a human hide out. Up until recently he had been in radio communication with a group of humans some 400 miles west. For reasons unknown to him, they had told him to leave them alone, and ceased all communication. With my android body, I would make a perfect courier for his “invention.” The dead pay me no mind.
We set out for the settlement within two days of our first meeting. I found an old van and painted all the windows to obscure my new friend from the eyes of the dead, and found a chain with which to drag it to our destination. My main body did so while I used my three auxiliary units to cover my rear and sides. Meager as his supplies were, it would allow him to reach our destination hungry, but not starving. As we made our march to the west, my three auxiliary units picked off every zombie they could manage. One could fairly easily track my entire journey across the Americas by following a trail of corpses missing the tops of their heads. I need to make room for living, and give aid to any I meet. That is my purpose. A lady of perpetual help. I have hacked away at this goal for 28 years now, and I will wander for 28 millenia if need be.
Our march is a jarring contrast with the dour remains of civilization. My slick, Hajime Sorayama-inspired bodies still shine in a way that nothing has the capacity to anymore. My main body has an intricate lily design on its chest, with my auxiliaries having a rose, a chrysanthemum, and a lotus design on theirs. These images on my chests are among the last remaining remnants of these plants existing. Unless kept far away from zombies, vegetation dies as well. The zombies produce a miasma that kills all plant life around them; typically in their immediate vicinity, but often encompassing a much larger area. I once encountered a zombie whose miasma surrounded her for a mile. Humans must grow crops in highly hidden and secluded farms. This limits the size of farms to such an extent that large communities are impossible, and trade among communities would risk exposing the crops to the miasma, so that too is a thing of the past. Virus is illfitting I think, this is a curse more like.
Our path took us through the remains of two large cities, many zombies wandered the streets, and as powerful as my bodies are, a horde can still overpower me. Should the scientist make too loud a noise the zombies would recognize his human voice and descend upon us. My synthetic voice was too off for them to mistake me for life, so for just as much myself as for him, I talked to him periodically. Sometimes I just made observations, others I began to absentmindedly sing, others I read books from my database out loud. He remained silent. This was the part of the journey that I dreaded the most. There always came a point where silence had to fall. I had lost the luxury of human interaction.
As I passed a moderately sized skyscraper, I spotted humans on its roof. I happily waved at them, and began pulling the van up to the curb. I might not be able to bring them with me just yet, I could still clear out the building and introduce myself. I could return later towing a larger vehicle.
Without a fuss, they all jumped off. No new friends. I carry on.
That would be all the humans I saw on the journey. Over the years I was able to gather the myths and conspiracies that circulated about the origins of the zombies. The popular belief was that Orlando was the city it started in. While zombies began being sighted all over the world, Orlando was home to the first. A man named Dr. Isaiah Wormwood, who claimed to be an indigo child. Among the remaining humans a belief arose that he was not just the first victim, but indeed the cause. He was a mix of pseudo-scientist and religious leader. His congregation provided the funding for his research into psychic phenomenon and the supernatural. The only recognition his efforts got him was an upcoming legal battle with his hundreds of victims, which the apocalypse halted. He, as the myth goes, meddled with something that no human was meant to on a fundamental level, and as an unfortunate consequence, or perhaps even a punishment, the zombie virus was unleashed.
I was created several years before the apocalypse by a woman named Linnette Monja down in Argentina with the aid of her grandfather Dr. Shotaro Monja. Dr. Shotaro had foreseen a calamity at the hands of Dr. Wormwood, and with his wealth game Linnette the means to create my siblings and I. They were the first I heard to blame Dr. Wormwood. They declared him a false indigo child, and said that should a true indigo child have been undertaking his studies, the world would have not only not died, but would have prospered beyond anything that had been before. I have since learned humans believe many silly things, so I doubt even the sanity of my makers.
They made three of us. I, Maria, Lilith, and Astaroth. I, with my once numerous auxiliary bodies, was tasked with searching for survivors and cleansing the earth of zombies. Lilith was tasked with searching the extreme reaches of the earth for survivors. Her body could withstand extreme heat, cold, and pressure that I couldn’t. Astaroth was tasked with seeking out humanity’s colonies for aid, however, he has been radio silent for 27 years.
With my pace we left the city behind quickly. Cities were my favorite areas to wander around at first, but they now grow tiresome. I left this one behind for now, but soon I will have to return to clear it out, and it seems I won’t be rewarded with new friends for my devotion to killing zombies. For the first few years cities were filled with distant screams, be they zombie or human. Cities rarely make noise now. I miss the screams. They meant something was happening. It’s been made clear to me that very little happens in this hemisphere without me causing it anymore. Had I not picked up this chain Hunter would be starving to death alone in his junkyard, probably still sitting underneath the pyramid he made out of iron bars. He claimed it drew in natural energies that kept him healthy these past 28 years. Humans believe many silly things, but I guess so do I. I believe in humanity.