HB. Chapter 3.

They weren’t formally divided, but patterns had emerged. 

Some drones naturally gravitated toward problems. Some were interested in cracking their way into the tower that loomed ahead, where they were seemingly programmed to go. They believed answers, and perhaps even inhabitable bodies awaited us inside. The idea of inhabiting an empty shell of a body somehow seemed a little creepy for some reason, Dora couldn’t exactly explain why. She could tell jonquil wanted to explore the tower too, but she had formed a bond with Molly, just as Dora and Simon had, and she wasn’t sure that was the best idea for Molly. Besides which, Molly wanted to explore the world around them. There was no way they could keep her cooped up in a big old military tower while the “adults” programmed their way out of this, if that was required. Also, while Jonquil certainly had the tech chops for the job, it seemed to Dora that she was much more intrigued by the position they were in, physically, environmentally, focusing on memory, connection, emotional recall. She kept trying to look at the sky, but to her dismay she couldn’t. Dora assumed it had something to do with aerodynamic.  

Today, they were all gathered near the western wall, locked in debate. 

GABRIEL:
“If we fly low and alternate our timing, we could confuse the sensors.” 

KIERA:
“They’re motion-based, not pattern-based. You’ll just die more rhythmically.” 

JAMAL:
“We send decoys. Shells from old drones. They’ll fire on those while we flank.” 

NGUYEN:
“Even if it works, we’re still flying into the compulsion vector. We haven’t broken the loop.” 

SIMON:
“We don’t even know if there’s anything behind that wall worth dying for.” 

The conversation spiraled, sharp with frustration and theory. 

Then Dora’s voice cut through, quieter, but firm. 

DORA:
“Wait… where’s Molly?” 

The group stilled. A few drones pinged local scans. 

SIMON:
“She was right here. She was watching us argue.” 

KIERA:
“I thought she was with you.” 

DORA (pinging visuals):
“No—look.” 

[Visual Sync – Source: Dora] 

Dora’s feed opened across the shared network. 

In the distance, a lone drone moved low across the grass, toward the eastern fence. Her glow was soft. Unhurried. Almost like she was just wandering. 

GABRIEL (stunned):
“That’s… brilliant.” 

KIERA (in awe):
“Unbelievable.” 

JAMAL:
“She’s going the wrong way.” 

NGUYEN:
“Or exactly the right way.” 

SIMON:
“No turret tracking. No forced override. She’s out of range.” 

And then, quietly: 

UNKNOWN DRONE (almost laughing):
“We could just follow her.” 

A ripple passed through the group. No one argued. No one analyzed. 

One by one, the drones turned. Left behind their diagrams. Their simulations. Their carefully planned routes into gunfire. 

And followed the child. 

She floated under the broken edge of the fence. 

No alarms. 

No fire. 

Just wind. 

And the sound of something opening. 

The air changed as they passed over the threshold—cooler, greener. Lush patches of forest unfolded below them, breaking through the dry scrubland like veins of life. 

The drones circled, lights flickering with awe and disbelief. 

JAMAL (still breathless):
“We’re over! They didn’t stop us!” 

GABRIEL (laughing):
“I cannot believe this is actually working!” 

MOLLY (deadpan):
“Duh. I can’t believe we were going the wrong way the whole time.” 

A ripple of laughter passed through the group. 

KIERA:
“All the most brilliant minds humanity had to offer… and it’s the kid who figures it out.” 

SIMON (grinning):
“Honestly? Checks out.” 

They flew lower, following Molly’s trail. No one was leading anymore. They were just… moving forward. 

For the first time, the sky didn’t feel like a ceiling.
It felt like a beginning. 

They’d flown past the fence. 

Most of them had. The moment had been too wild, too joyful, too full of something they hadn’t felt since waking—freedom. 

But not everyone wanted to keep going. 

A cluster of drones had pulled off to the side, gliding along the fence line instead of heading deeper into the terraformed green. 

They hovered near a rocky outcrop, trying to realign their bearings. Several lights blinked in rhythmic pulses—code for an ongoing discussion. 

GABRIEL (firm):
“We still don’t know what’s inside the facility. That was the whole point—getting access. The answers are in there.” 

NGUYEN:
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s just another lockbox we weren’t supposed to open yet.” 

KIERA:
“I’m not saying we go back in. I’m saying we follow the fence around. There might be a back entrance—something unguarded.” 

SIMON (uncertain):
“We can’t ignore what we just saw. Molly broke the loop. That means something.” 

A few of the others had already vanished into the trees, their lights blinking between the leaves like curious fireflies. 

The group paused. Tension rising. Until— 

JAMAL (dryly):
“How about this: you guys stick with Dora the Explora, and we Scooby-Doo our way into the compound?” 

A flicker of amused static buzzed through the group. 

KIERA (smirking):
“Pretty much.” 

DORA:
“Great. But are we taking Molly with us, or should you guys bring her along and see what you can glean? She’s a little more spontaneous than we probably need out here.” 

GABRIEL:
“She’ll be fine. She’s the one who got us out, right?” 

A low murmur of agreement followed, and Simon raised his voice to bring some structure. 

SIMON:
“Alright—brains, over there. Explorers… yeah, over there.” 

He cringed at his own phrasing but logged the division quickly into the shared network. 

[New Group Log Created: SPLIT NODE – “Brains” | “Explorers”] 

Simon opened a backchannel to Dora. 

SIMON (private):
“I think I should probably go with those guys… but honestly? I’d rather go exploring. Any objections?” 

DORA (grinning):
“I was hoping you’d say that.” 

The group drifted apart—no bitterness, just difference. 

Some followed Molly into the soft, green heart of the new world.
The others followed the fence, still searching for a way back into the one they’d escaped. 

The moment they passed the treeline, the air changed. 

It wasn’t just the temperature—it was everything. The sound of wind moving through leaves, not against stone. The rustle of something alive underfoot. The distant drip of water, not from broken pipes but from moss-covered branches. 

For drones made of smooth, featureless alloy, it was almost overwhelming. 

They floated low over the forest floor. The ground was soft, loamy—giving slightly beneath them. The quiet that settled around them wasn’t empty. It was the kind that invited reverence. 

DORA (quietly):
“So… we built this, you think? Us drones, I mean?” 

SIMON:
“Or maybe another model.” 

Ferns the size of small cars spilled out from the bases of towering trees. Their bark shimmered faintly in the filtered sunlight—almost iridescent, though not unnaturally so. 

Mushrooms the size of umbrellas clustered at the roots, and thick vines stretched between branches like suspended walkways. 

They passed through a narrow clearing, where sunlight streamed in golden shafts. It flickered across the drones’ hulls like firelight, and for a moment, everything stilled. 

Then Simon slowed. 

SIMON:
“Listen.” 

The others paused. 

There it was—faint, distant… singing. 

It came in waves, barely audible beneath the wind. A melody without words. Not mechanical. Not human. Birds. 

DORA (hovering closer to a tree):
“Birds! I hear birds!” 

Her voice rose with wonder—relief, even. Like something sacred had just clicked into place. She remembered birds from childhood. The sound had always meant the world was still okay. 

They moved forward slowly. The trees thickened. Branches arched overhead, forming a natural canopy. Dainty flowers blanketed the mossy ground, and dragonflies zipped past—wings translucent, shimmering like stained glass. 

JAMAL (quietly):
“Wow. This is just like World of Warcraft.” 

A burst of laughter echoed through the clearing. 

DORA (scoffing):
“I hope you’re joking.” 

JAMAL:
“Uh, yeah. Of course I am. Sort of. I mean… that game was pretty awesome.” 

The laughter faded into something softer—a shared breath, a moment of almost-childlike awe. 

The forest broke open without warning. 

What had been dense greenery gave way to open air as the drones drifted forward, one by one, until they found themselves at the edge of a steep ridge. It fell away sharply beneath them—jagged stone and vertical drop, the kind that made even machines pause. 

Far below, a river wound its way through the valley floor, glittering and silent. 

They hovered there together, light wind pushing gently at their hulls. 

No one spoke at first. 

Then one of the drones pulled ahead. 

Drifting lower along the ridge wall, it moved with quiet focus—scanning the face of the cliff as if looking for something. The others watched, heads tracking. 

JAMAL (curious):
“What’s it doing?” 

The drone paused. 

Nestled just under an overhang in the cliffside was a dark cave—narrow, but deep enough to vanish into shadow. 

DORA (lightly):
“Cool. A cave!” 

The drifting drone tilted forward—almost instinctively, as if drawn toward the entrance. 

Its light dimmed slightly. 

Then, with a sharp clank of contact against the rocky lip— 

It dropped. 

Cleanly. Silently. 

The shape spiraled once as it fell, bounced off the stone wall, and disappeared into the rushing river below. 

A sharp intake of static passed through the group. 

DORA (stunned):
“Wait… who was that?” 

No answer came. 

They hovered in silence over the cliff’s edge, staring into the mist where the water continued to flow, indifferent and endless. 

JAMAL:
“I didn’t catch the name.” 

KIERA:
“There wasn’t a ping. No log update. Whoever it was didn’t transmit.” 

DORA:
“Wait… could that have been Robby?” 

A quiet flicker passed through the group. 

SIMON:
“Robby… the one who helped coordinate the drone logs. Said he’d tested reverse compulsion.” 

DORA:
“Yeah. That was him.” 

A beat of silence. 

JAMAL:
“Do you think he’s… dead? Or do you think he’ll be sent back?” 

KIERA (uncertain):
“I don’t know. We haven’t seen a drone reset since we crossed the fence.” 

DORA:
“Let’s check with the others. Maybe the launch zone’s still active.” 

Simon opened a channel to the perimeter team. 

[Outgoing Message – SPLIT NODE: Brains | Status Request: Drone Launch Activity] 

Static buzzed briefly—then a partial response filtered in: 

KIERA (from perimeter):
“—haven’t seen any—pattern’s broken since—Molly—turret cycles are—hold on—something’s—” 

The message cut off mid-transmission. 

The group hovered in silence again. A cold kind of stillness. 

The gorge stretched out beneath them. The river kept moving. 

And the cave stayed quiet. 

Simon quickly relayed what happened. 

[Outgoing Message – SPLIT NODE: Brains | Incident Report: Drone fall into gorge. Query: Is re-launch possible?] 

The channel went quiet. 

Just static. 

A few drones exchanged glances—if glances were something drones could really exchange. 

Then a voice came back—Gabriel this time, from the perimeter group. His tone was slower, more thoughtful than usual. 

GABRIEL (crackly but clear):
“Huh. We didn’t even think about that…” 

A pause. 

GABRIEL (continuing):
“But yeah. That makes sense. We’re probably solar-activated. If he’s down in the gorge… there might not be enough light to reboot him.” 

The silence after that hit different. 

JAMAL:
“So if we fall… that’s it?” 

DORA:
“Not if there’s sun.” 

No one moved for a moment. 

The river kept winding below. The cave entrance stayed dark and silent. No drone re-emerged. 

SIMON (softly):
“We should keep moving. He wouldn’t want us stuck up here.” 

They hovered a beat longer—processing, hesitating, learning what death might mean here. 

Then they slowly pulled away from the ridge. 

They didn’t speak much after the call with the Brains. 

No one had to say it—they all knew what it meant. Sunlight was survival. Shadow, silence, caves… not survival. 

But they couldn’t just leave him. 

So they followed the ridgeline east until the slope softened. Eventually, the steep wall gave way to switchbacks of stone and moss. Slippery. Jagged. The descent wasn’t easy, even without legs. 

SIMON:
“We should stick close to the ground. If we go too low, we lose solar input. Stay half-shaded, move slow.” 

They coasted carefully, adjusting their altitude with each bend in the gorge. Trees loomed above them. The sound of the river grew louder. 

Eventually, the ground leveled out, and they reached the bottom. 

The river moved slow here, dark with sediment and foam. The air was damp and cooler. Light filtered down through breaks in the canopy above, but it was thinner. Less certain. 

DORA:
“Robby?” 

No answer. Not even a flicker on the shared channel. 

They scanned the water. Edged along the rocks. Nothing. 

They had made it to the riverbank. 

The air was cooler here—heavier. The water moved slowly, murky with sediment. Shafts of light filtered down through the canopy above, but everything felt quieter. Dimmer. 

Molly hovered close to the shoreline, peering down at the wet sand where the river curled against the bank. 

MOLLY:
“It’s like the beach!” 

No one responded at first. 

MOLLY (quieter):
“I wonder what it feels like now?” 

Without toes, she meant. 

It came out with a child’s curiosity, but the others fell silent. Not knowing what to say. The weight of what they’d lost—and what she would never have—hung in the air like mist. 

DORA:
“We don’t have faces. Or names. Or anything. I mean—how would I even know if you were the one who almost flew into the cave earlier? Unless I was tracking you the whole time, how would I know it was you?” 

She wasn’t trying to scold, not really. She meant to explain why Molly needed to be careful. But as the words left her, she heard something else in them.
Sadness.
They were just prefab machines now, with slight variations in code. Identical on the outside. Easy to forget. 

The others felt it too—her despair. 

Then another drone spoke up. 

JAMAL (gently):
“Well, we all know who Molly is now.” 

The others turned toward him. 

JAMAL (smiling):
“She’s the one covered in mud.” 

Molly looked down at her reflection in the water. 

Two wide streaks of riverbank clay smeared across her lower shell. She blinked her lights, then laughed. 

MOLLY:
“How about now?” 

And without hesitation—without even thinking—she reached out with a small extendable arm none of them had seen before. 

Smooth. Simple. Efficient. 

She dragged it across her hull, leaving a series of short, vertical marks in the mud. Four slashes. Then a curved line beneath them—like a smile. 

She laughed hysterically at her reflection. 

The group froze. 

If they’d had mouths, they would have dropped them open. 

DORA (in awe):
“Whoa. How did you do that?” 

MOLLY (giggling):
“What?” 

JAMAL:
“The arm, Molls. The arm.” 

MOLLY (still laughing):
“I dunno. I just wanted to do it, so I did it. I mean—how did we walk when we were human? Didn’t we just… do it?” 

JAMAL:
“Molly, you are a genius.” 

MOLLY:
“I know. People keep telling me that.”
She giggled again. 

One by one, they began to descend to the shoreline. Testing their arms. Dipping them in the mud. 

Molly was already at work, scooping and shaping a squat little structure near the water’s edge. 

A mud castle. 

Dora drifted beside her, watching in silence for a moment before joining in. The idea of identity tugged at something deep inside her—now that she had the means to shape herself, to leave a mark, it suddenly mattered more than ever. 

And then—like a faint echo—she remembered. 

She had been an artist. Not just someone who dabbled, but someone who needed to make things. Who stayed up all night chasing a shape or color that lived just out of reach. Someone who lived between inspiration and frustration. 

The exhilaration of a new idea, and the emptiness of a blank canvas. She felt both now, staring down at her reflection in the water—smooth, metallic, unreadable. 

But the castle was good. Primitive. Satisfying. 

She needed this. 

Time to reflect. 

Time to choose who she would become in this strange new body—and how to begin.