It’s a desolate wasteland. Deserted. Broken down old city. Call it what you will. It’s a devastated garbage dump. There’s only two life-forms, and they’re not even organic. What happened?
Bibonites. That was what they were named. But it all happened so quickly, they couldn’t have done anything about it. It simply had to be fate, or the work of the devil. The scientist in charge of powering the bibonites mixed the wrong ingredients used for creating Chemical X. There was a BANG. Then a bright flash of light, and… nothing. Of course, Bibo, as he later named himself, knew nothing of this. In a hurry to protect their work, the Bibonators clumped their robots into the emergency lockdown room, but, unfortunately… only one survived. The soon to be named Bibo.
All he could remember was opening his eyes to bright factory lights. In his field of view, he could see many odd things going on. But then, as he was adjusting to his new body, it all just disappeared. Gone. Gone. That was the only way Bibo could describe the people lying on the ground. Gone. Far, far away. He wondered why he was the only one who survived, when he saw, or rather heard… life. A little girl was slumped in a corner, and the sound of her low moaning was what alerted Bibo to her presence. There was blood pouring down the side of her face in great sheets. But nonetheless, Bibo crawled towards her; was this why he still existed? To save this girl?
The badly oil requiring wheels of Bibo’s ice-cream cart squeaked slowly along as Bibo pushed the mobile stall along. It was now 3 years after the incident. His only customer was the girl he had saved from the factory. The one he had changed… converted. He quietly set up his cart on the street corner he had become so familiar with, as he wiped a drop of oil from his cheek.
His auto-mail fingers clacked against his chin as he waited for the clock to strike twelve. The gears in his head whirred, and his feet clicked: heel, toe, heel, toe. The wires all throughout his body vibrated and his core hummed like it was going to explode. DING… DING… The clock chimed twelve. But instead of the usual release of tension in Bibo’s body, he felt the cables connecting his body parts stop bumping around all together. He felt as if he was about to implode. He struggled forwards. Forwards to the blonde-haired girl robot slumped in the street.
Bibo was desperate. Desperate. He would do anything to save the girl he loved so much. He was working away in his greasy workshop, sparks flying as he welded shut the gash in his dear friend’s side. He had always known that he wouldn’t last forever. Now he could have a proper burial. Goodbye for the last time.