Zhi emerges out of the shadow, moving slow, deliberate. S/He is dressed in mending cloth, their face hidden behind a mask of shards of glass and wire.
“You’re one of them,” Ky says, their voice muffled but level.
Zhi cocks their head, thinking. “One of what?”
“One of the ones who watched,” s/he says, creeping a little nearer. “Watched while everything fell apart.”
The accusation bites deep.
Ky wobbles, their hands clenching and unclenching. “Why have you come?”
Zhi looks at it, its markings glinting softly in dim light. “I have come to understand,” s/he says. “To learn what is left, and must continue.”
Ky spits out a laugh, its sound acid. “Nothing’s left to carry. Ghosts and ash, that’s all.”
“Not true,” Zhi says, their eyes moving to the flower at its feet. “The life remains, even in crevices.”
The two stand motionless for a long, quiet interval.
Finally, Ky comes to life and talks. "If you're here to learn, then you have to see what we saw."
S/He offers a hand, and Zhi takes it. Hand in hand, they move deeper into the ruins.
And there, buried under heaps of ash and debris, stands a machine, behemoth and sleeping, its face etched with the same inscrutable symbols etched into their epidermis.
The visitors watch it closely. "We made it to save us," Ky says.
Ky touches the face of the machine, resting a hand against its metal faceplate.
"I see now," Zhi breathes. "The machine did not kill you, then."
Ky shudders in their voice. "So then, then, what?"
Zhi turns, radiating a new light in their form. "The fear of falling," s/he says, "when you could no longer stand together."