During the Axiom, Sequel to Before the Axiom!

This was a project that I started in June of 2011, before certain events occured here which I don’t want to infer to anymore, further explaining more particular details of how WALL-E managed to humanize himself after all of these years, including many other trivialities. I have finished it almost 4 days ago, the hiatus was due to the fact that I didn’t see a need to continue working on it now that I originally abandoned the forum. But, as me, feeling provoked to start more projects than ever finish them, have started to complete other old projects I originally abandoned, such as this one. Chapter One, well, the Prologue, Chapter 1 and 2 will be posted on three separate replies on this topic. But, as a note here, after Chapter 2 the writing style drastically changes, since I began to get back on the tale of WALL-E around early 2013. Anyhow, enjoy, i guess.

[size=150]Prologue: 2120[/size]

It is the year 2120. We once again reemerge ourselves in the now desolate land of the Earth forged by the mega-conglomerate company, Buy N’ Large, where not one trace of human life has stepped on the barren ground of the Earth in a good 15 years. The human’s did not necessarily die out, they had left to escape the toxic levels of the Earth that had been infested because of BnL’s (that is the acronym for Buy N’ Large) large commercialism and questionable tactics into dealing with the large composites of trash. The humans had left in large, awkwardly shaped ships, but the jewel of them all, as been said in BnL’s numerous advertisements, was the Axiom, which was the leading vessel in this commercial fleet that BnL has set sailed across the galaxies. Humans still exist, but they have become morbidly obese and completely relied on technology due to the little use of their muscles and the hoverchairs that were originally used for the handicapped and elderly, but, once again inscribed in those advertisements shown 26 minutes every half hour, “there’s no need to walk!” .

The robots that take care of the humans are the only ones who can see the world in their own way, but unfortunately, due to the human thought of a robot being a cold, apathetic A.I., they are inclined to follow their directive for as long as they are programmed. But, there is just one robot who stood out from the rest, as well as one human who had helped that robot become something much different from the rest, enjoying life, and living outside of it’s directive.

There was a man, back before the flight of the Axiom and it’s fleet that set afoot, that wanted to put a stop to the so called utopian world that BnL had so falsely put around them, as he had thought, but at the same time, try to conserve the Earth and to make it habitable again for his family to enjoy, and that man, was Roger Simmons.

By this time, Roger has completely decayed amongst the collapsed ruins of his house, since the toxicity had finally worn out the house’s support as well as Roger’s anatomy. But, his individual legacy lives on, despite know one from this time would know this, except for the one contraption that he had transformed into a living, sentimental being.

A Wall-E…

See, during the peak troubles for Earth’s sustainability and desperate manuevers, BnL had enforced an army of small, geometric, cubical companions called Wall-E’s (short for Waste Allocation Load Lifter Earth-Class) to clean up the mess for them, but no matter how many they had created around the world, the trash was only being moved and the trash that was being compacted and burned had left a foul odor that destroyed everything in it’s path, save for the Wall-E’s that were left to continue working while the human’s were supposed to leave for a 5-year cruise, but, going back to Roger, he had found some incriminating evidence on BnL and had decided to head back to Earth to redeem the humans and to hopefully save the Earth at some point. But, what he had forgotten about his whole plan, was that the EVE probe’s would eventually be able to find some source of plant that would assure that Earth could be sustainable again, but nevertheless, Roger had put his hopes on the very same Wall-E that had taken care of his home to somehow clean up the entire Earth in a matter of some years to Roger’s liking. He didn’t care how long it would take him, he cared that at some point the Earth could be saved by that one little contraption, and this is where the story of this Wall-E’s misadventures and his progress to develop a sentimental, selfless and kind-hearted robot with speech and emotion, throughout the course of some 200 more years.

Chapter 1 HERE.

[size=150]Chapter 1: New Directives[/size]

So, now we immerse ourselves with the little Wall-E, who has at this point collected a small collection of trinkets inside a Wall-E disposal truck, which the holds were originally used to deploy all the Wall-E’s, but, this Wall-E being the only functioning robot, can use them for other purposes. There were a few rubber ducks, some lights that had been in use yet, several BnL lighters, and many other items that would fill this list for a long time to come. But, one of the most precious of Wall-E’s trinkets was a cassette tape for the ancient upbeat musical, Hello, Dolly! . If you remember Roger, the Wall-E had obtained it from him while he was attempting to turn him back on after BnL had shut them off, as well as the video cassette player that was once in Roger’s House, now crumbled from the multitude of dust storms and the toxicity aghast in the air that the Wall-E doesn’t need to breathe in. It was precious to him, because it was life changing for Roger as well, and it sparked the one thing that this Wall-E knew best: Curiosity.

The Wall-E already had a recording for the song inside his hardware, the Record/Play/Stop function helped him manipulate the song as an Ipod to most of the kids back in the days before BnL stepped forward. And ironically, through the tough process of jury rigging an ipod to a video cassette and to obtain a working one at best in the course of a 15-year curiosity run, had been able to adapt and feel like one too.

Put On Your Sunday Clothes, one of the upbeat songs in the classic musical, was one, or the only song that Wall-E would play everyday as he would continue to go about his directive while following other ones at the same time, it was the one thing that had gotten him through the day, and despite playing it so many times in his head throughout the course of 15 years, the song had never grown tired in his own youthful energy.

And even when he was done with a days work, as this robot had curiously put a daily work schedule inside his brain, he would play the song inside Roger’s cassette as he would rummage and wonder at the new knick knacks that he had discovered in the multitudes of trash not compacted and stacked into the neat skyscrapers that loom across the many skyscrapers not made of trash. The Wall-E’s curiosity was so keen, that anything would spark his interest, since 15 years was still short for a robot quite new to these feelings and excitements that the humans once thought were unimaginable to the metal exterior of one.

Despite that Wall-E’s collection was vast, there was still many, many deploying holds that Wall-E needed to hold, as well as the process of using the unused lights to light up the dark truck during the nights that the Wall-E would ‘rest’. This was also another curious characteristic that the Wall-E had found in his own way, the Wall-E would use the truck as a little bedroom for the long night, since it was impossible for the Wall-E to work with no suitable Solar Energy source, as Roger had aforementioned back 15 years ago. And although the Solar Energy crisis would be a big problem for the Wall-E tomorrow, he had a emergency backup pack that could last him for at least another full day or until he could use the solar panels installed into his system the very day they were deployed, in which the Wall-E had done this almost monotonously but happily every day, every waking moment that the Wall-E was programmed.

But, getting back to the less turbulent but no less significant task of obtaining a plethora of knick knacks and finding a moment to working, the Wall-E had never realized, throughout the course of his duties, that he wasn’t necessarily meant to continue his task, but yet at the same time, the Wall-E would take part of his time to use the igloo box that Roger had brought with him across the galaxies to store anything that may or may not still be in use and have some aesthetic interest to the warm outlook of the Wall-E. The Wall-E still needed to collect more and more things that he could find, and he attempted to collect the same types of knick knacks as sort of a memorabilia to the already growing stockpile of random items from before then. But, if the Wall-E were to stop working entirely, he could’ve focused more on his knick knacks, but his directive was much more valuable to him at this point and the robotic companion was unaware of the human’s actions after their supposed 5-year cruise into space. Wall-E was still entitled to his directive as instructed not too long ago, but with Wall-E’s curiosity, he always wondered when the humans would get back, although he wasn’t programmed to tell when the humans were supposed to get back, he could remember his master, Roger, complain about the 5 year cruise to, as he desperately tried to remember while cubing some more garbage, Caroline, the more compliant master in the household to the sacred Axiom flight. But the Wall-E knew little, and much of the obvious didn’t really occur to him that the human’s weren’t coming back, but with Roger arriving just on time, the Wall-E called that a safe return.

The Wall-E was completely silent as it worked, it had not maintained a comprehensive language and could not for the life of itself know how. The only thing that brought about the presence of the Wall-E wherever it would go is it’s robotic treads that would whir as he would compile more trash geometrically, piling them up on the skyscrapers that no human would ever be able to burn with those conveyor belts of theirs, many still sedentary after all these years, the spawning of the carbon dioxide would stop for the moment, until the human’s would ever come back home.

Getting back to the resting part of Wall-E’s day by day routine, the Wall-E would feel a sense of unrest and soulless energy whenever it would ‘wake’, and although this is like with any human as they would awake, this only happened ironically because his solar energy was critical, and it ran at about a quarter of it’s power, a quarter of it’s strength. So, already in 15 years, the Wall-E has developed a permanent sense of perseverance, collected souvenirs while on the job just like any employed human, made a humble abode to sleep in amongst the stars and the danger beneath the weather of the Earth, and practiced a 56-hour work week, completely by accident. But, there was much that the Wall-E had yet to know about human sentience, since it could be the only one to, and since he was the only one who wanted to, as the years go by, and Wall-E’s curiosity grows.

CHAPTER 2 HERE. This will be all I’ll upload for tonight, due to the fact that the chapters after 3 are written almost by a different person, despite that they were all written by me.

[size=150]Chapter 2: Last Robot On Earth[/size]

So, how is it like for a robot to be the only known robot in it’s local existence, perhaps even across the world? For the typical A.I. Of such robot, they feel nothing, have no sense in their mind that anything as degrading as leaving the things you built behind to rot in the heavy atmosphere of the Earth could be somewhat make a heavy atmosphere for such a gentle and kind robot as Wall-E was.

He had went through his days, constantly surrounded by the brethren that Roger was unable to turn on with him, not minding the simple aspect that they were the only closest things that the Wall-E could get to as pal. This was a company that only had one employee, who was a manager, financier, treasurer, employer, every job that you could imagine in Wall-E’s place he was, and not once did the Wall-E ever mention or even take notice of that.

The multitude of fallen Wall-E’s across him, from terminals to Ultrastore’s, you couldn’t find not any Wall-E trapped in a middle of it’s own directive, a frozen cube a midst in a jungle of trash. The Wall-E’s were even piled in the Wall-E trucks that deployed them, also left out in the hot heat to rust ever so slowly, unable to complete it’s possibly lifelong duty to rid the trash that the humans could rival exponentially.

No, the Wall-E that was still functioning kept with it’s monotonous duties, continuing it’s solitary task in cubing solitary garbage in the only solitary planet we can thrive on. It never once ran into a broken down Wall-E, never it accidentally bumped into it or almost come across one face to face, the garbage it took care of never gave the opportunity for it to encounter one so closely.

But, after several days after 15 years of the aftermath of Roger’s doing, the Wall-E had finally, accidentally, ran into one of the broken down Wall-E’s, misinterpreting it as garbage.

The Wall-E had stood there, almost as if he was looking at himself, slowly engaging the poor mechanism, looking at it as if looking at itself, the shovel-like hands, the binocular eyes, the tank treads, everything about it looked just like him, but, he wondered, why it was just standing there so coldly, like a permanent statue to the foundation of BnL’s consumerism.

He could see himself through the dusty lens of the Wall-E, and he could realize, that strangely, he had a expression that he couldn’t quite word out. His binocular eyes were leveled to a extensive point that not any other Wall-E could master unless this one had experienced what it just did. It was worry, he could see the stress in his hands, how they shook so anxiously, he only hoped that this Wall-E was still alive or functioning at the most. He held the ‘eyes’ of the defunct robot with intent, as if he wanted to say something to wake it up, but he didn’t know how, all he could do was see his worry through the dirty lens, those dirty lens, how they looked just looked like his, how it was like his closest relative to him, now functionally dead amongst the growing heap of garbage.

He had a new expression on him, something even more grieving than worry, his binocular eyes had moved in such a way that he hadn’t done at all that it almost hurt him doing so, his hands fled down from the robotic corpse in hopelessness, his treads revving in a slow and less meaningful way. Sadness, a morose look ran around his eyes, and he could see the rest of his brethren, all left to stand out in the garbage wilderness, while he, unable to comprehend his survival, unable to reason why he was alive and they were not, now had to forcibly move the Wall-E out from the garbage heap to continue on with his work. He couldn’t do anything to help, it was hard enough for him to get Hello, Dolly! To work on a Ipod through a Video cassette player, how was he able to bring a full robotic being back to life? He couldn’t, not now at least, but, in the Wall-E’s tearless and voiceless grief, he somewhat found hope and a desire to strive amongst where his brothers could not, and he found a new reason to continue what he did best, not just by his directive, but for the other Wall-E’s that he was unable to revive, and neither did Roger.

The Wall-E had to do this much more frequently than before, having to move his solid brethren out amongst the garbage and only give them a reasonable burial somewhere away from the surface of the trash and somewhere on the dry surface that their treads once drove day by day. Despite much of the Wall-E’s concern for the millions of amiable relatives he swore to live on through them, he managed to find yet another use for his kindred. Since the Wall-E had developed a very strong comparison from these Wall-E’s onto him, he decided that he could at the very least salvage some of their parts if he were able to come across some damages not easily repaired with shovel-like hands. The Wall-E, through it’s 15 year course, had realized the dangers that this new Earth contained, the frequent dust storms and the heavy rain that occurred some time afterwards all boasted a possible chance that the small Wall-E could be harmed in his trash-collecting process.

He removed treads, the arms that were easily detachable by any human or robot, binocular eyes, and most importantly, hardware systems beneath the chest of the Wall-E’s, a robot’s heart, a robot’s memory. The Wall-E didn’t see any need to carry anymore than one, his body was nearly indestructible on the inside with his only foe being the lack of sunlight and the Earth’s weather, he didn’t see even need to carry one at all, but why not?, protested the Wall-E, displaying a gesture of ‘why not’ into his curiosity, and decided to keep this one for some extreme emergency measures if he was to become that damaged. The Wall-E had also remembered that he could also stuff these salvaged parts in his truck of a home, since he still had plenty of space for at least another 300 years worth of collectibles.

After collecting what he desirably needed, he laid the Wall-E’s that were in the way of his trash collecting way out of the way, out in the distance from where trash was undeniably forbidden to be thrown in, what was once a body of underwater life and a zestful source for even human survival, the ocean, way out in the coast, the Wall-E had mounted some kind of mixed monument to each Wall-E he had encountered while on his duties to the BnL corporation that had technically killed all of his friends and family, lest for him to live to witness all of this indescribable horror of a Wall-E genocide.

The Wall-E was keen on keeping this monument as far as possible from the filth that lay beneath them, he couldn’t do anything else for the other kindred that had not suffered the same fate as the ones he picked out for his monument. If someone was able to witness this from the distance of all of the commercial satellites in the Earth’s atmosphere, you could see a intricate yet choppy letter E surrounded by a different hue of what appeared to be a circle just around the area of the E, interpreting the E that is iconic in the Wall-E name. The Wall-E had found this idea accidentally while also looking at the first defunct Wall-E, he could see his name, much cleaner than his brother, and this was also the first time that the Wall-E could actually identify himself, on a mental scale, but not with his voice.

The ‘E’ monument would not last, not in the bearing heat and of the windstorms, the Wall-E’s would get pushed over, torn aside, and if the storms would get this worse, the Wall-E’s would be flung hundreds of feet away from where they would stand for what seemed like forever. The functioning Wall-E did not have the time to put them back in their place, neither did he have that many more Wall-E’s to repair the monument with replacement Wall-E’s, so, after a few years of heavy windstorms and heavy rain water, the E monument was now a scattered sea bottom of trashed Wall-E’s, once akin to a sacred legacy to the only robot, the only functioning being, the only sentient being, left on this Earth and the face of the universe.

But, he wasn’t quite alone…

CHAPTER 3 HERE. As mentioned, the language device in this changes drastically.

[size=150]CHAPTER 3: Curiosity[/size]

About 70 to 80 years after Wall-E’s testament to his own kind was finally strewn into dust, with the rest that the garbage accumulated and deteriorated with it all these waking years, The Sole Wall-E had finally learned to overcome the tragic and newfound sentiment seen with his comrades, almost being nearly numbed as he saw many of them strewn about through the peripherals of his monotomy.

If BnL where to still detest the records of the efficiency of their Wall-E robots, one could say that about 70 or 80 could get one 20-story pyramid of trash within the year. Whether or not this was true, the rate at which trash was flowing to it being disposed of was not nearly fast enough for anybody to live comfortably in. Anyhow, The single Wall-E robot, being the last vestige of human progress functioning, had completed his very first pyramid, but not so his very last. Despite an accomplishment of robotic motor skills and smart sensing to some, Wall-E did not feel necessarily the same way, if at all.

As soon as his programming, still functioned around the fibers of his wit and sentiment, told him his pyramid was done, he moved on, farther away, to move onward over to form yet another foundation for the many pyramids of trash that have yet to dispose themselves.

Eventually, after some few decades of attempting to brisk the sand storms that raged on a daily basis during the nights, Wall-E had realized that hiding in the Wall-E distribution truck would be worth a waste of his time trying to form pyramids blindly, not to mention his programming got screwy when the sand dunes piled over, his sensors braking up from the fragmentation of ultra-precise material objects pinning his cubic, metal shaped body.

In the darkness of his Truck, trembling through the pitch black murkiness of the cold metal walls, Wall-E’s only source of light came from the dial of his chest, showing his solar levels. He knew what would happen if he where to stay in this truck overnight, and his naivety feigned quickly upon the first time learning. When he had first decided to tuck in the truck for the night, when he had “woken up”, during the morning, he had felt a sense of grogginess, almost just like a human would moments waking up, although for him it was a matter of life or death, with his solar supplies depreciated during his rest, with only a emergency power supply keeping him in his state. He would, with a clumsy stupor, attempt to get the cargo door, so as to use the panels built inside him to power him up for the day, which ironically, would be the same way a human would get out of their restless stupor, by burning their eyes to the bright morning sunlight, which coincidentally Wall-E found more beneficial than painful.

To continue, after his completion of his first pyramid, going through the motions of his solar grogginess, he continued to build the foundation for the next pyramid, somehow still programmed onto a particular location. He had already been built to do this, and with 80 years experience looming over you, there was no faults to his efficiency. And since he was a robot, he didn’t have any reluctance nor ever grew tired of his job, he persevered willingly, day by day, working double overtime and tenure with no pay and practically being self employed in this case.

So, what made this day particularly different from any other repititious day that Wall-E would gladly continue to work in? I guess you can say that the new fibers of his programming had allowed him to pick up certain sentiments, as well as curiosities, such as with his brethren. The collection of viable parts that, critically thinking, would allow him to rebuild himself in the case of a “work-related accident”, if ever such thing could occur at all. His collection was only based on the needs of his survival, and not about what he likes or finds as appealing, and perhaps, in the moments he worked, piling things deemed as “trash”, he remembered back to the very start of it all, the strange man, with a certain kind of determination in his face, breathing heavily in a strange, cylindrical shaped tubing, with a scarf or some sleeve wrung around his mouth, and a lunch box complete with wires, light torch, but most importantly, a strange, small, rectangular-shaped object.

The object, it seemed precious to him, he thought, because he put it into his hand as if his life was about to end and that he put the responsibility of his entire legacy into your robotic, claw-like hands, never once considering that you could of thought that it was trash. You felt curious, he analyzed in the guidelines of his thought process, showing numbers and algorithms that formulated into his thoughts and ideals that no human would understand other than a robot. Why stop here?

Why stop there? Perhaps there is some value in the items he was supposed to trash, he felt materialistically obligated to try to collect what he could in the small pile he formed. And perhaps the very first thing he collected, beyond the strange valuables in that lunch box, and the tape, was a small, stainless-steel block, with a folding cover that covered a small ignition that would be lighted by a unwary fingers of a narcotic.

A lighter. Although Wall-E’s programming didn’t tell him it was a lighter, that it was simply an object. but the fibers found in his sentience and curiosity had made him FEEL that there was more value and specification to the object he was holding. But how could he carry all these “objects”, that he felt dear to? How could he possibly do this, in the midst of his work? He couldn’t slack on for the merit of his materialistic pleasures?

The lunchbox, he remembered. The lunchbox the man carried, it has a handle. Perhaps Wall-E could carry, he thought, but nevertheless carrying the box throughout his work would be cumbersome, as he needed both of his crane-like hands to work on trashing what was empirically trash to him. He was so entwined in his thought process, that he had felt a sudden twinge from his backside, and also, his eye.

The flaps that were boarded around the ring of his binoculaur eyes, had raised just slightly, almost as if they functioned like brows. And a small handle from his back, potruding out slightly, as if trying to attempt to get the feeling back in your leg as you stopped the blood flow to it. He was surprised, unsure of how he was capable to manage such a feat that seemed vestigial to him.

He considered his programming, the new vestiges of his fibers, teaching new, humane thought processes that perhaps no other robot had considered, and he attempted to reinforce them so that he could take independent control on otherwise analagous structures.

He had refrained from his duties, contradictory to his claims about his curiosity, on trying to “wiggle the big toe”. He began with his eye, as he already had some motor functions installed inside, and with the work of programming, managed to get one of his eyes to wink, nudge, and raise it’s newfound brow. He had moved on to make the other work the same way.

But, onto his back. He could not see exactly what he was potruding, nor know of it’s worth to the values of his curiosity. In his plight, he noticed the sun’s rays burning against the ground floor, causing mirages so wide and close that a faint mirror formed beneath him. He could see himself from the back with the help of these mirages, and he realized what he had to function. And he knew it would help him travel with his knick knacks.

He tried to push his back, somehow thinking that he was stretching it out, attempting to send signals towards yet another analogous structure. Soon enough, about 9 hours attempting to bring new life into otherwise static objects within him, he now had the independence to move his knew hunchback with ease, as well with his brows. Although, he didn’t know how to do naturally. He fervently made spontaneous brow raises during his duties, collecting some values here and there, almost starting to feel a slight strain from the movements, almost like a sore.

His hunchback was easy enough to control, as the lunchbox hung upon him like a backpack, yet the weight of his values never deterred his ability to continue working, while having the joys to it. He had experienced new pleasures in the valuables he was collecting, getting an idea of human life and society through objects of history. His eye brows started to go in tune, despite the pain his signals were reading, when he spotted shiny valuables, such as BnL-labelled fine china, plastic forks, spoons, a plunger, and even a dusty Ipod in the process.

Since the darkness of the distribution truck bothered him, he attempted to associate the objects he found that would eminate the same amount of light that the sun could. The difficulty of this, however, was that he did not have the programming to understand the fundamentals of the objects he was collecting, such as the lighter. He could say that it’s used as scrap metal, and none could say the wiser. Fortunately, his recent collection of fluorescent light bulbs, most of them uncracked and all entwined in their collective wire, and a power adapter in his more later collections would bring him light in the distribution truck.

How, you may ask? When he had observed the wires of these light bulbs clearly, he had noticed a strange power cord at the end, the prongs slightly bent from the wear of the wasteland. The power adapter, after observing it, had multiple ports, each with 3 organized holes that could fit into the wires.

He had not thought this critically yet, but considering the strange coincidence of a power cord being able to be put in the same fashion of a adapter, didn’t seem far from the stretch. So, he hypothesized, and experimented, using his clumsy fingers, to put the cord into the adapter. Despite the bents of the prongs, Wall-E managed to fit the prongs inside, but alas, with now power. This confused him, but only for a moment, when he noticed that the power adapter itself also had a cord. He first attempted to plug the cord into itself, but to no avail, so he attempted to search around the truck for a better means of plugging the adapter. He had found an unnaturally high power outlet, hung around the assembly shifters, which he had to use to get to the top, which also gave him the idea to store his collectables inside each of the assembly shelves. He finally got the adapter inside the power outlet, but still was left with an unpowered cord, despite him not being known of the fundamentals of the object itself.

Until he came across a strange switch on the adapter, much like the switch he used to ferris wheel his way up to the port to begin with. With his determined curiosity, he had turned it on, and before he could react, he had light.

The switch had eminated a dusty, dull orange light, but that was not Wall-E was amazed by. Most of the bulbs that were treaded on the wire had lit up, not with the spectacular illumination of the sunlight, but now Wall-E could easily see the floor he was moving around in. He could see each of the tungsten filled bulbs bright heavily, much to Wall-E’s bereavement of the light show. His new found knowledge of power and electricity had allowed him light inside a dark and decrepit distribution truck.

Much to his excitement, he had accidentally rolled over one of the bulbs, destroying it in the process. He was somewhat frightened by this, but realized that he could not keep the bulbs laying around the floor, while he needed to move around to store more of his valuables. He remembered the top of the assembly shelf, and decided to toss the light bulbs over to avoid destroying their illuminance.

After nitpicking through his goodies, finding new light and new functions within the limitations of his body, He could now traverse his originally abandoned model of desperation and find a place that he could now call home. It amused him, finding a need of shelter away from the torrents of earth’s weather, needing light to reinforce his need for clarity, especially when his programming starts to go haywire at the sign of no known objects. His eyebrows raised, fluently to the emotions he kept within him, speechless in nature, with his eyebrows almost moving at a subconscious level at best. The experiences he found within these moments may seem just trivial in his eyes, but what he didn’t realize what that this robot was transcending from the usual monotomy of his programming to the functions of choice and inhibitions, of sentiments over mechanical aptitude, beyond the gray that he was originally more than happy to live in.

Suddenly, he seemed very alone.

CHAPTER 4 HERE. Still has the language device changed.

[size=150]CHAPTER 4: Throwing Shapes[/size]

About another 150 to 180 years after configuring his own set of brows and spine, as well as learning the basics of electricity, the Wall-E had continued to grow upon that talent to apply to certain other uses.

In his plight to collect more bulbs, specifically the ones with the same prongs that would more or likely fit into his adapter, he had to come upon the realization that some of the wires would not work, period. This frustrated him, as much as a robot could get frustrated with a seemingly basic tablet of emotions. But, during his collections, he came across a mangled book, which turned out to be a electrician’s manual, full of technical details about hard wiring and certain plug-ins.

Once again, looking at this to the Wall-E looked like reading from Hieroglyphics, but he could recognize the faint icons that resemble the same three prongs he was scavenging for. He could see the different features of it from the inside, and thought to himself that perhaps the reason the bulbs aren’t working is the faulty wiring from inside.

But how could he get inside of a wire, with such awkward hands? Surely his crane like hands could not foresee to dissect the hard outer layer of the wire and expect to see the visible colors and fabrics without causing some damage?

The Wall-E had closed his eyes, growing ever more frustrated with the thought of it, until he felt a slight growing heat radiating from the forehead of his binocular shaped eyes.

He had just a fraction of time to open his eyes before he realized he had made a small, laser circuit that miraculously cut through the wire he was analyzing, although through it entirely. He remembered how he had to find these talents within him, and learning how to manipulate to his will like with the Eye brow raises and the handle, almost instantaneously learned to use it.

The super-heated, red laser had made deft markings across the desert plain, leaving a black char from the resulting pyre. After learning to use it, in a way which a human would think extremely hard to the point of boiling their forehead, Wall-E returned to the now completely defunct hard wiring, though that was the least of his problems now.

He could see the wires, all cleanly cut from the heat of his laser, all coiled tightly together, with red, yellow and green. splicing each of the wires together, he noticed that there was, indeed, a faulty wire, even after being severed from it’s power cord. And even if the Wall-E had been more careful with the wiring, it wouldn’t have done him any good to fix it. This wire was far from working anymore.

Despite the loss, he was fortunate to learn more about the fundamentals of electricity and technician work, and with the continuation of more bulbs to be put in his knick knack collection, perfected his work, just like the monotonous work that he still labored in joyfully.

Joyfully? Did the Wall-E enjoy it? After working like a dog for nearly 230 years, he learned all of the tricks behind his job, and was now able to construct his massive pyramid’s in the span of 50 years, and if any of his coworkers were still alive and had some functioning sentience, would call him “an over-achiever”.

But he didn’t seem to evoke joy from his job, but he couldn’t evoke hate or disgust either. These feelings were quite unknown to him, and as he would work, never did it occur to him that he could stop, at any moment, and no one could tell him any different. No one could.

And that was most painful of all to him. he didn’t feel love or hate, but he did feel lonely. Being the most solitary being in a world devoid of life, the last robot on earth, this big world, all to him, with no one to tell him differently, no one to talk to, or that expresses his feelings nearly in the same way.

But, at least his hardwiring improved?, he considered, subconsciously.

Indeed it did. During his further expeditions to find rare valuables, he had come across the very same house that started it all, now collapsed under the pressure of the wasteland. This journey was about 5 miles away toward where he was settled, and slightly farther from where he worked, so why take this jaunt out of the blue? Somehow, deep in the wires and his programming, he felt a sudden urge to come here, to find what other valuables the Strange man would have mistakingly left for him.

Using his crane-like hands to pry a makeshift opening to move into the chasm of a suburban family home, Wall-E had caught slight glimpses of his days here, way before the many humans had left before, but all of these careless in the days he didn’t realize sentience. The two kids that ran about him, watching in awe as he began to “clean the earth”, as a mother and father stood, one more than giddy, the other, with something else on his mind. And he remembered the VHS tape he was given as well, and the VCR that had yet to be a part of his vocabulary. He felt the urge to retrieve this invaluable artifact, because due to the articulation of shapes fitting inside objects that were similarly shaped, somehow he knew that the VHS had a place where it would fit perfectly.

Remarkably, he found what was left of the living room, the decrepit drawer that held the remote controls and was the mantle for the TV now barely held onto the roofing of the house, forming a small, claustrophobic cavern beneath. The bones of a familiar corpse still laid quietly inside the cavern, many of them being crushed when the house had fallen upon it’s weight. And the VHS tape, dusty, somewhat corroded, but to Wall-E’s fortune, still intact. He also recognized the familiar prongs that he was associated with the light bulb, and felt more than confident that his trip was worth it.

Prying the VCR out of the crevices of old ceiling top, rubble and rotten drawer, he realized that the VCR was too big for to be fit inside of his lunchbox, so he had to carry the large object in his able hands, as he quickly veered out of the collapsed house, heading immediately back home to test-proof if the VCR would even work, what with it’s somewhat mangled appearance.

But, there was something that discomforted the Wall-E about the VCR. three prongs, all colored in their ends red, white and yellow, confused his usual thought process of shapes. Surely, these could not fit into the adapter, but they were essential, right? He considered that these wouldn’t be on it if they weren’t needed, but for what?

he looked back onto the shoulder’s of his cubic body. He noticed the small buttons associated with it, and remembered how the man was able to insert the tape into him. He didn’t have the tape with him at the moment, he still had a special place for the tape amongst the everflowing growth of his knick knack collections, but at this moment, he had looked at himself, downward, and onto the VCR. the VCR had the same buttons too, almost similar in shape and color, despite it’s top heavy design. Wall-E felt associated with the VCR, that he could find a connection that would explain the addition of new cords unfamiliar with him.

He remembered his laser ability, the dusty IPOD, and the hard wiring taught from the electric bulbs.

He hurried quickly back home.

During his experiences, he had also found a IPOD jack, but with him initially not finding a connection between it and the Ipod, had ignored it. Now associating himself with shapes, he had realized that both parts are the same. During his technical work, He had put his VCR far into the back of the distribution truck, his home, using the cable extensions to have the cord reach to the power adapter, and analyzing the structure of his VHS, and how to properly insert, carefully, very carefully, inserted the tape.

He had pressed the supposed “POWER” button to the VCR, soon enough, seeing faint lights that replied “hello” to him, which he had ignored. He press the “PLAY” button, but to no avail. Despite that he had carefully inserted the VHS, and plugged the VCR carefully, he did not hear the sounds of the VHS that he remembered in his “rebirth”.

This was fine for him, this was what he had to figure out. If he hadn’t thought critically about the other cords, he would have otherwise removed it from the rest of the hardware. Remembering his ability to use his laser, he had to make sure that he could get inside of the hardware without damaging the essential parts of the wire himself. he remembered the chars that he made on the desert floor, and took his Ipod Jack and the red, yellow and white cords outside too. He put the cord carefully close to where he would shoot his laser, while not having quite a hang of the feature, felt more than confident to debunk this. After spraying his laser at a very precise area, he realized that the outer cover of the wires started to melt under the heat, exposing the wires, still intact and fairly reminiscent with the other cords he had cut through. He did the same for the three cords next, noticing the pattern between each, and realizing the super-heated charge of his laser, realized that if he could melt the plastic away, he could also use it to fuse the wires together.

He had intentionally cut the ipod jack from a supposed USB port plugin, and the cords from their respective colors. Using his laser once again, brought the two very closely to him, being careful as to not burn through the wires, fusing each individual strand together.

After about 3 hours of careful nitpicking, Wall-E had crafted a Ipod Jack/Video-Audio Port with the use of his basic technician skills that would allow him to see his VHS come to life.

After plugging the VHS and the IPOD together, making sure that the VHS was shut off, he had hoped, within the faith that he put towards making his dream come to life. And as the power button plugged on, and he pressed play, he could the faint noise of a upbeat musical, and the small screen of the Ipod flash with the dancing of many boys and girls.

Wall-E was so exhilirated, that he made a sudden “Oh” sound. That startled him almost as much as his success of hard wiring the Ipod to a VHS tape. He noticed the strange circular figure on the ipod, and testing it with his crane-like hands, noticed a sudden change in the volume from the Ipod. He could hear the chantings of “Hello, Dolly!” throughout the entire truck’s interior, despite that Wall-E himself could not see clearly the Video that was being played, the screen too small for him to take into detail. Nevertheless, he felt successful, and strangely surprised that he almost had a vocal reaction to his successes.

As for the song itself, the first time it rang into his mind, he didn’t care all that much. But with the fibers of his sentience growing ever more so, becoming self aware, curious, critical and beyond what he was originally programmed to do, felt the joy that seemed utterly missing out of him. He nodded with the music, with the brows moving in tune without him even realizing this at this point, becoming a homogeneous structure to the rest of his body. With the movements he made to the music, he almost started to dance to the music, despite him being unbeknowns’t to the act of dancing. He felt more than happy, and more than impressed with himself, the capabilities of his programming far exceeding the monotony of his brethren.

And with impressing himself, he felt more at peace with the loneliness that he would have to endure for the next 600 years.

CHAPTER 5. Same new fashioned device language.

[size=150]CHAPTER 5: A Bug’s Life[/size]

Another 40 years had passed since Wall-E’s inevitable discovery of electricity, hard wiring, non-verbal communication, laser-guided sensors, light, and shelter. Since these 275 to 315 years that Wall-E has treaded, building the many trash empires that loom over the skyscrapers like a dwarf among midgets, learning about the necessities of the human condition and the sentience of a once cold interior, now learning to act and feel more humane than this particular Wall-E could have ever imagined. He had gotten so good at what he did, that he could almost create the first story of those mighty trash pyramids within a day, and despite his growing curiosity, often getting so tied to the point of collecting multitudes of cigarette lighters and forks, still managed to work with the same perseverance, only clearly getting better with the age.

Wall-E, in his new programming, had created since these 300 years about 17 20-story trash pyramids, still looming high, being not obligated by the furnaces that would otherwise dispose of them in such a fashion. At the point that Wall-E had organized his trash in such a precise and meticulous way, any trash that would be near the Distribution Truck that now was home to him was absent. Only the treads that still etched the dry earth, and the earth itself from about a quarter of a mile radius from the truck existed. And the little contraption, the tiny cubic robot, with his crane-like hands, consantly swapped over better ones to continue his work, learning more of his technical marvel.

His previous issue with the IPOD screen was remedied by a giant magnifying lens he found that used to belong to the case of projector, as well as a small minature scissor-lift mechanism that he jury rigged onto the projector to magnify the size of the IPOD’s screen to about the equivalent of a 25" TV screen, almost nearly as big as Roger’s TV before it caved in with the house.

with his insight upon hard wiring, he had now found a way to attach the adapter he had grown so inclined to use it’s power outlet indefinitely, with the switch being used to lower and raise the Truck’s lift when he would need to. He had found about 4 to 5 additional cords of half-functioning bulbs, that now illuminated his “house” entirely. He also found a way for the lights to turn on when he would either lift the cargo door or close it, depending on the time of day.

Surely, he seemed to find peace of mind within himself. He had reasonable accomodations, with no worries of stress or exhaustion, with his only fear being that the sun would just burn out some day. This was the thinking of a small child, but in no way makes WALL-E as less intelligent or self aware a robot as his companions before him. And that was his mindset, all through the course of his lessons. His discoveries, his thinking, his use of his motor skills, curiosity, energy, and enthusiasm. You could truly see the small child within the equally child-sized contraption.

And yet, with all that Wall-E was able to do, to personalize his home, to enjoy listening to his Hello, Dolly! tape either on his duties or during the nights, like a child, he felt lost, afraid, and lonely. He was just one robot, barely reaching at 3 feet tall, with no modifications that would make him feel taller and not as somehow insignificant in a world that doesn’t seem to hold any significance whatsoever.

The thought of him being so alone, the dissonance with the pyramids reinforcing his fear of significance and the reason behind why he felt so alone, trifled him. He would look out towards the sky, the beaten blue sky, and wonder, Who else is out there that feels the same way? Am I alone in all this?

Through his duties, he would just stop in the middle and wonder, why he keeps doing this? Who is he trying to prove? Is his programming telling him to do so, but not at the sake of what he would get in return? How would the Wall-E know that he would matter in all of this, that even if he could see his brethren being reprogrammed in such a way, he would essentially be just one gear that gets all the other gears going, and with him being the only one that keeps moving, progress slows indefinitely, no matter how hard you try. would it make him feel better, knowing that the whole reason behind this could be helped by the restarting of his fellow companions, or would he be more happy in knowing that he could be restarted, more happy to just live his life in monotony, so as to avoid these complicating decisions?

A slight whimper was heard, not too far from where he was working. The Wall-E could hear the incessant sounds of what sounded like feelers, working it’s way aruond a small tin can amongst the many that Wall-E could see before him. As with his curiosity, he was determined to find out the source of the noise, sifting through different cans, careful as to keep them from dying out the noise he heard.

He began to hear silent chirping, growing louder as he looked through. Soon enough, He found a tin can with it’s lid still attached, although could be easily pulled out. He noticed something he had never seen before, potruding out the opening from the tin can. He could see what I will call Antennae, but this was beyond Wall-E’s vocabulary.

WAll-E, despite what he could expect out of this tin can, felt the sympathy and kindness to release this helpless “thing” from it’s comedic prison, much like how he felt for his brethren being the only vestige for human life to prosper on this wasteland. Nevertheless, he was somewhat reluctant, was it that he was socially devoid from everyone, and everything, that he would be much more willing to continue to live his life in being socially shunned from the rest of society.

Slowly, he peeled the lid of the tin can outwards, to free the beast within.

The animal had suddenly jumped up towards his shoulders, accidentally pressing the play with his VHS recording still inside him, which shocked both the rodent and WALL-E simultaneously.

WALL-E shrieked, or more technically, made a shrieking noise that emulated within the bounds of his programming. The Cockroach, now in clear view, was shivering, on top of one of the tin cans WALL-E shoveled to free him.

WALL-E had to calm himself, both from the rodent latching onto him, as well as finding out that he might have some sort of real verbal communication. He seemed to understand and empathize with the Rodent’s fear, noting the antennae dropping down and curling itself back into the rodent. WALL-E wanted to treat the rodent with kindness, as with understanding and respect, yet he wasn’t sure how to respond in a way that would make the Cockroach feel comfortable around him.

WALL-E, with the limits of his programming, considered how he would reach his hands outward, palm open, to carry his loads, so consecutively, he thought this would be the best way to approach him.

He held his hand out, in sort of a waving pattern as to get his attention, as he slowly reached out, palm flat and on top, as a way for the rodent to give him his royal red carpet.

The Cockroach receded initially, but began to feel somewhat more comforted in the idea that this robot meant no harm. The Cockroach began to walk alongside his hand, alongside his arm, towards his shoulder, feeling complacent in his newfound friendship.

Wall-E too. He couldn’t comprehend the amiability that he was receiving from all things as a rodent, but nevertheless, he didn’t feel alone anymore. He felt like there was someone who we could communicate to, in some form.

But the rodent had a language unbeknownst to him, and him the same. He only practiced the notion of non-verbal communication, while his squeaks and utterances happened whenever they seemed pertinent. So, with his non-verbal communication, he had held out 2 of his 3 “fingers”, diverging towards each other, like a peace sign. What the Wall-E thought that symbol meant, was beyond him, he had only seen it thrown out several times through Hello, Dolly!, but he could convey that when used, it evoke a certain kind of peace and proclivity between differing opinions. He wanted to make the rodent feel he understood him, and the rodent nodded in almost a sort of dog to man companionship.

the Rodent had chipped giddily, alongside his shoulder plate as he noted the excitement invigorating out of the cockroach. He also noticed a faint rumbling sound too, which made the cockroach quell slightly.

Wall-E was concerned and confused as to what this could possibly mean. Was the rodent nervous? was he hungry?

But before he could answer, the cockroach immediately jumped off him, scurrying quickly to what seemed like a small yellow, rectangular shaped patty within a dusty wrapper, affixed with the BNL logo. He noticed how the rodent was attempting to pry it’s way towards the yellow goodiness, and soon enough, WALL-E realized that he was hungry.

With the help of his capable hands, he was able to open the plastic wrapper, as to allow the cockroach to delve in the treat. The Cockroach dove into the patty, like a pool filled with pepperoni slices and marinara sauce, coming out with what seemed like a smile formed out of the sugary coated goodness that hid inside of it.

Which gave Wall-E another thing to start looking for in his journey for knick knacks.

When the Wall-E had welcomed his new Cockroach to his home, keeping him comfy with the several new “Twinkies” that would be the roach’s source of food. Wall-E had managed to learn to “pet” the cockroach, using the slightest movements of his fingers to pat the cockroach on it’s head, much to the cockroach’s delight. And with this, Wall-E found more meaning to his existence, greater responsibility for the life of one cockroach, because for all he knows, there won’t be enough friends for him to make in such a long span of time.

He was content with his life, feeling the invigoration of companionship, responsibility, and loyalty, and with him holding his vow to the end, would keep him at peace with himself, but perhaps, not finally.

As the night rolled away, and his Cockroach friend had already accomodated the modest living space, Wall-E had turned to his VHS/IPOD mesh, hoping for yet another night of wonder and excitement to hear Hello, Dolly!. As he was moving his magnifying projector towards the IPOD, he noticed a sudden glimpse of his reflection. He moved the projector back to that moment, seeing the most clear vision of him. He could see the rust that had accumulated off of him, the paint of his metal sheen had died away, his eyes, dark in tone but soft in countenance, and most importantly, the name that was stapled right along his belly. The distribution truck he called home was his only way of knowing what his name was short for, yet he preferred his name just the way it was.

His name. He could read out “W-A-L-L-E”, but how could he pronunciate it? It seemed really vindicative of him, having a name that was given to him that he doesn’t even know how to say? And he knew that he has the capacity to control his verbal actions, allow himself to vocalize thoughts and perspectives, even if he was a robot with such limits, he broke through the normal bounds of his programming time after time again.

So, through the projector, he had practiced it, first, trying to make a sound, much like he did with his first encounter of any sort of life, but using it so as he can use it and allow himself to continue to use it. He heard a soft whine, emulating from his programming, realizing that his mouth seemed to come not from his eyes but closer to where his solar panel glared, and so he focused around there more often. Soon enough, he made that very “ooh” sound that triggered his curious nature, which could be heard just loud enough for his rodent to catch.

And with every night, for a few hours, Wall-E would practice this, starting with trying to enunciate each word in the way it was shaped to him. He would move onto the next one when he felt confident, and despite that he was successful in enunciating, it was particularly hard and strenuating for him to keep learning new letters, especially with his own name.

And even if the WALL-E wouldn’t have to address himself in any sort of way, or that his label would tell others anyhow, deep inside, he felt more self-aware and cognitive knowing that he could recite his own name.

CHAPTER 6 HERE. Another 3 more chapters for tonight, with the last two saved for tomorrow.

[size=150]CHAPTER 6: Preserve and Persevere[/size]

After 35 years and many, many centuries practicing the imitations of the human body and mind through his curiosity, and what he could scrounge from the recordings of Hello, Dolly! as they danced and paraded about, with his companion Cockroach beside him even after all these years, alive and well from the diet of merely artificial sugar and preservatives (which ironically is what most insects needed anyhow), willing to follow him like Man’s best friend for as long as Wall-E would be able to find those treats for him, you could say that Wall-E almost felt human himself.


through the oscillations and rhythm of Hello, Dolly!, transfixed as a recording to his chest, learning eventually the various buttons (3 to be exact), Wall-E learned to hum towards the song, so as to allow his recorder much needed rest from the feigning audio receiver. This humming and singing, along with how he bobbed his head slightly to the notes and tune of the musical, made the monotony of packing cubes of garbage for the sake of nobody made it much more bearable, even though with Wall-E being a robot as he was, he understand the issues with monotony.

Even after so many centuries of packing cubes in programmed, designated locations of which to be dealt with by machines that have overslept about 400 to 500 years now, Wall-E never realized that those mountains of trash that he created still loomed over him, until just now.

IN a sudden quake of self-realization, at the moment he had finished compacting a bunch of trash into a nice, neat cube, he stood there incessantly, staring at the block, almost with temptation.

Every trash he had compartmentalized into proportional cubes were not significantly the same, nor significantly different. Only the smallest errors of what pieces of trash would go to what corners of the cube could ever tell Wall-E that one trash was unique from the other, but it wasn’t the trash that necessarily piqued his self-serving rebellion, no, it was what he was doing with it that mattered.

But did it? He has compacted perhaps millions of the same cubes that never feature any notable differences other than the items that could be worthwhile knickknacks that unfortunately have fallen ill to the decay of age and of it’s trash. Who was he taking orders from? What made him responsible to keep working the way he did? He might consider that his programming told him to do so, but he had already wrestled the bounds of his programming oh so many times before, and never once failed. What would stop him from not compacting trash anymore? What was the punishment for doing so?

He considered it, the moments between him and the potentially last trash that he would ever compact again. His cockroach stood behind him, waiting patiently, yet cautiously of his pause. Within the mixed numbers and binary of his data and logged memory, compiled of folders and files that have been packaged into something he could translate into, he remembered the man, the man with the scarf, giving him the cassette, the key to his curiosity and more importantly, why he was even considering these thoughts running through his data field.

He could remember the so to say “emancipation” of his fellow brethren, and he could remember the many that still lay in the wake of his work, numbed now by the needs of compacting his trash. This sickened him, he felt the guilt of leaving them behind for the prowess of work and perseverance, despite that the programming had made him that way.

The programming! he cursed in a particularly distraught yelp, affixed by the expression of sadness being addressed towards the eyelids of his binocular shaped eyes. The programming ran his life, his day to day needs, his mindset, and the reason why he should continue a somehow utterly pointless duty of compacting trash.

And he went back to the man, and what was left of him from his earlier visit. Based on his basic understanding of human expression and emotion, he could determine, from his very first power up, that the man looked extremely frantic, as well as sweaty. And from that logic, he remembered his brethren again. Why was he the only one who was on? It must have been the man who turned him on, concluded the robot.

But why? If the programming is sending this Wall-E through the monotonous and impeccably pointless workings of trash cubes, how could this man think that was worth something? But perhaps he knows more than the Wall-E could perhaps realize. He was the sole survivor, meant to complete or continue this utterly boring path, based on the assumption of just one man’s conquest for it. Wall-E remembered when there was a lot of people on this earth, many who gleamed at him and his fellow brethren, but back then that meant nothing to him. He was told to compact trash, and that is simply what he did.

But even if the Wall-E had realized that perhaps compacting trash was indeed worthless, what did it mean for the man? what did it mean for so many others here on earth? Where did they go that required only the Wall-E’s to do their bidding for them?

Perhaps if so many of him had continued to work to this day, Wall-E could say wonder why his part of the job even mattered to so many doing it too, but he was the ONLY one who compacted the trash. The man knew this, the people around him knew it, it must had been important, and so if Wall-E is the only one who is capable of making this task important, it is even more important now that Wall-E continue to do what he is done.

He realized that despite the need of his programming to tell him what he was built for, the insight of the man and his new found humanity, hope, logic, reasoning, and curiosity, he felt that what he was doing actually MEANT something now.

He put the solitary trash just where he had left off, from his moment of relapse. He felt more proud to do so than perhaps conceivable. Even if the event of his work finally amounts to something, the idea of something coming from it made him strive for more than what is even humanly possible. His programming told him what he had to do, but through the Wall-E he learned something even greater than that:

He learned what he could evidently get from doing so.


[size=150]CHAPTER 7: Stars Get Lonely Too[/size]

Another 28 years had passed since Wall-E’s realization over worth and what he was told, between the limitless piles of trash he compacted, to his human curiosity and child-like enthusiasm for life, between the limits of his programming and what he could achieve from far beyond.

Wall-E was at the peak of his success with his trash compacting, now being able to form a foundation of a trash peak within 8 hours. With this, he had more time to his knick knacks, his companion cockroach, and managed to keep himself off of the nightly dust storms that pervaded his sight and enjoyment.

Whatever the reward or otherwise conclusion to his trash compacting would come to, Wall-E was nevertheless enthralled with the curiosity of what that could be. Even though garbage and trash to him was a minor convenience, and otherwise the entitlement of human civilization on earth could be sustained from the consistency of trash compacting, Wall-E knew that the trash wasn’t gone, it was merely placed elsewhere, in a concentrated position mounted upon a geometrical scale.

So, what else could the wall-e envision from the success of his eternal role? perhaps his cargo load could increase in size to load more of his knick knacks? Maybe the idea of trash compacting could perhaps hold a treasure far beyond anything he has ever collected over the years? the possibilities seemed endless for Wall-E, and the best part of the accomplishment was not knowing to begin with. His mind was open to interpretation, perpetuating the ideas of logic and reasoning, picking up the trail and making connections between science, reality and philosophy.

But with his perseverance came an almost immediate reward for his work, perhaps from how he was able to work to impeccable speeds and diligence. With his knick knack collection, cockroach companionship, Wall-E still managed to glorify in some of the moments that he could witness the sunset and even some of the brightest stars that kicked off the dusty skies above before the true duststorm would kick in.

For the slightest of moments, Wall-E had casually revved back to his distribution truck, I.E. knick knack loader, pressing his automated button to lower the lift so as to enter, like he did every day for the last five to six hundred years, when he noticed a deftly faint, light blue light reflecting from the grill of his loader.

As his curiosity had naturally took in place of his programming, Wall-E had investigated the source of the light, first from the ground, and again from above.

For the first time in his usually busy life, he noticed the small yet bright radium of the moon, easily bypassing the dust that normally kicked through the lens of WALL-E’s eyes. Full Moon, a term Wall-E will have never heard of, was at Wall-E’s very presence, and with it’s optical illusion, looked much bigger than what Wall-E could understand.

But the beauty and brightness of it amazed him, much more than what the Sun could. Sure, the sun could be seen in full spectrum on a daily basis, but Wall-E had already seen it’s presence time and time again. But the moon, the moon was something unknown to the Wall-E, due to the presence of the dust storms and how long it had taken the Wall-E to feel satisfied with what he was able to accomplish.

He could already feel the reward of his progress flourishing. He stood, entranced by the moon, staring at it for what felt like hours, but mere minutes to the Wall-E. The small, spherical shape, with what seemed like craters that had formed over the moon, by what the Wall-E could see with his robotic eyes.

Soon enough, he started to notice even smaller lights, those which could not reflect or penetrate the dust but were visible from around the Moon’s perimeter. We would have called them stars, but to Wall-E they were just entrancing, as much as the Moon was, but with how small they appeared, it was not possible for the Wall-E to glimpse exactly what they would look up close.

And with so many of them, there were so many that piqued the Wall-E’s various possibilities, like with what he could gain from working so hard and long, even if it never came. And through the moment that Wall-E had shared with the stars and the moon, he wondered if his cockroach companion could share it too.

Alas, the cockroach had already tuckered in, with his abundance of sweets in the warm confines of the truck, tiredly waiting for the Wall-E to tuck in with him. But the Wall-E was still amazed by the speckles throughout the sky, spanning the infinite miles that those stars could be between him.

And his loneliness became noted.

The vastness of the skies and stars shuddered his cold exterior, being so small on this earth, now noting the expanse of the universe made him feel even more small and insecure, but most of all, alone.

His cockroach, though a amiable friend at best, still made him feel discomforted with the fact that he still didn’t have a direct connection with anything beyond his intelligence. His cockroach friend was much smaller than the Wall-E was, which made him wonder how the cockroach felt more comfortable with his size than he did. And because of that, Wall-E didn’t exactly feel that the cockroach could sympathize with him, especially since it was hard for him to direct his feelings to him. He still felt lonely, nonetheless.

He really wanted another Wall-E, or a robot of some kind, to communicate to him, because that way, he could direct his feelings upon another. But the Wall-E realized that what made him different from the rest of the WAll-E’s was that Wall-E was the only one who knew sentience, so even if he tried, they wouldn’t be able to understand either.

And the stars couldn’t either. But with so many of the stars in their own designations, Wall-E wondered why those stars wouldn’t together in harmony. There was a more scientific approach to the answer, but Wall-E was never taught those many pursuits of science, whereas he was more inclined to believe what ever seemed to make sense to him. He considered that, with so many stars indifferently placed far between each other, if this universe is so big, then that must mean they feel lonely too.

Maybe if those stars were made in the same way as the earth, with Wall-E being the sole being on it, with the situation at hand, those stars might have someone up there that was lonely too. Maybe, they are looking at the stars at this very moment, maybe this Earth, wondering if anyone else could be out there, feeling as lonely as they are.

That they could be lonely, together.

Wall-E noticed a familiar alarm, realizing that the dust storm had kicked in once again. Despite Wall-E’s reluctance, he had to get back inside, for the safety of himself and his cockroach. Tucking himself with his cockroach, much to the cockroach’s pleasure but much to Wall-E’s disdain, Wall-E had fallen asleep, pretending that the events of that night will probably never occur to him again.


[size=150]CHAPTER 8: Feeling Empty[/size]

Immediately the next day, Wall-E had awoken in the usual manner he did for the past few centuries: groggy, but not from some humane characteristic, but more that his solar power was depleted and that he was barely running on a emergency backup. His friend the cockroach, however, didn’t feel the same way, already up and going, diving into his morning meal of yet another twinkie.

As the Wall-E went up top of his furnished abode, going through the motions of deploying his solar panels so he could gather the energy he needed from the burning sunlight. It wasn’t as fun but intriguing for him to see the brightness of his panels as the sun pierced against them like daggers that would otherwise blind a human being but otherwise looked fascinating to the Wall-E.

And after his power levels were up to nominal levels, he immediately began his day with replaying his Hello, Dolly! casette, grabbing his ice box meant as a backpack for his knick knacks, and darted towards another new spot that was directed at him some 500 years ago ,high in the cosmos.

His comrads and counterparts all littered the landscape of other pieces of litter, none of these really bothered the Wall-E anymore. His apathy, however, was overwhelmed by his cheerful enthusiasm, despite the many daunting questions that may never be answered. What was he meant for? Clearly it must be something, Wall-E proclaimed, but of what? And was the goal meant to be perceived as morally righteous or truly reprehensible?

These questions of morality were the forefront for why WALL-E continued the way he did, with his job and his music. Where so many humans would limber down to every self-entitled and greedy plight for material needs, WALL-E was much more abstained to reap the benefits he seeked. He did not offer some kind of reward to his friend, as he freed him, now did he? And it’s not like killing the poor animal would somehow help the Wall-E from feeling anymore alone he was. He needed friends, not enemies in this state of devoid life.

Of course, goodness seemed like the only thing that existed within what little he knew of human life. His cassette would preview to him the most basic fundamentals of what one shall go for the love of someone, the sacrifices he’d make, the obstacles he would need to dodge and the trains he would have to run himself into to find that reciprocating feeling from another. That was all the Wall-E would ever need, even all the knick knacks in the world would not remind him that he is truly alone here.

His next foundation of geometrically composited trash was relatively close to a dried waterbed, the sudden sloping decline of the cityscape and what seemed like a desert that went on for miles, for once the many infrastructures of trash and skyscrapers ceased from what used to be water. A small, spherical object could be seen out in the distance of this desert, looking just as decayed as the rest of the city. The crater and the residing dirt still were kicked up from it all those years ago, but the Wall-E was not aware of it’s purpose behind it.

Occasionally, as the Wall-E would continue to work, he could notice, up from the skies, slowly clearing up from the kick of dust from his treads and of everything else, what seemed like comets or falling stars. He could see a small light and what seemed like the essence of smoke or cloud from the edge of the Earth’s stratosphere, plummeting elsewhere, as if it’s known destination was not of earth but of the many stars that WALL-E could see during the breaking dusk.

As the dust blinded him from seeing the precious comets, WALL-E remembered what he was working on. Just what seemed like the nteenth cube that he chucked out of his gut over and over again, formed perfectly, just as long as what was inside of the Wall-E never changed. Sometimes the Wall-E wondered if there was anything deeper inside of him, as he continuously did this, the matter that required 70% of his body to be filled with this trash confused some his earlier findings about his unique personality.

Nevertheless, the greater impact of his programming proved that there is truly more inside of him than foreseen, even how strangely empty he felt without him ingesting and then regurgitating his trash in a compact manner. The music in a small way alleviated this issue.

His cockroach companion happily followed him as usual, always keeping behind him about 2 feet away, until the WAll-E had suddenly stopped, then reverted, crushing the cockroach into a pancake.

WALL-E only figured out by the time he had rolled out of his cockroach friend that he had killed him. The Wall-E yelped worriedly, his loneliness at the fate of this insect’s life. Wall-E’s expression and focus went from happy and his garbage to depressed and his friend.

WALL-E leaned over his fallen friend, what was left of him, more or less still in one piece, if that piece was to flattened by 700 pounds of steel.

But, miracously and to the surprise of the WAll-E, the cockroached leaped up, taking back his original form as if to be stretched and inflated to his proportions. Despite what WALL-E had done to him, the cockroached was just as happy and fixated on him before WALL-E steam rolled him, as if the cockroach had been through this with some other Wall-E in the past.

The Wall-E was confused, not sure how the cockroached managed to survive that impact, but nevertheless was more than relieved to see his friend unscathed. The cockroach did, however, decide it would be safer to stay on WALL-E’s shoulder, rather than haphazardly behind the tank. WALL-E subliminally agreed, noting the cockroaches actions rather than it’s snickers and vocalization. And thus, another day of garbage meddling went by the WALL-E like so many other infinite memories of those.

He found knick knacks, as usual, finding repeats of various ones hes collected, and new ones where he would seem to find more places in what his distribution truck could provide what with it’s automated shelf. Before he would clock out and go through the persistent to-do’s of the next day, WALL-E made a new kind of schedule on his clock: The sky.

Like yesterday night, he looked up to the stars again, as if by prayer or religion, thinking about exactly what he thought about last night. Who was out there, aware of his whereabouts and his actions? Who could fill that missing piece deep within his gut, where his garbage would fill and then subsequently empty.

But the Wall-E realized at the moment that the emptiness of his gut was not what bothered him. There was a more symbolic, inner kind of emptiness that he felt, and no manner of garbage or toy could fill him up. His morals were already beset upon kindness and being morally applicable, and any sort of material piece could not satisfy him.

But solar power could, his cassette did.

Higher up from his stomach, past the ribcage of his metal exterior and onto the dial of his power system, currently at 5/8 power, running up his cassette with the same 3 buttons he currently doodled on top of his shoulders.

He could hear the small, noticeable beeps emitting from his chest. His cassette wasn’t playing at the moment, so WALL-E concluded that it was his power system which seemed so insignificant before. He could notice a small oscillating patter with the beeps, the pattern slowed as he receded within himself. He calmed his heart down, his metallic heart down. He could feel how distressed it was underneath his metallic cage. Even if his heart was simply made of a motherboard and a limited supply of RAM, they became something that were well beyond his power. Beyond his human instincts to be run and to run, his heart acted and reacted upon his moods. He could hear it beep faster and more anxiously when his cockroach had abruptly died, beating slower when the skies would calm his nerves and anxiety, and beating so slowly and quietly when he had gone to sleep. He felt a symbolic hole within his heart, a distress and a missing piece that he could not find without something, or someone, to fill it for him. He didn’t know what was it, but surely, the thing that he had been working on for so long had reminded him of a certain goal. Would he feel truly fulfilled in his life, finally? That the missing piece would be found and make himself feel more whole and meaningful than he ever did?

For the stars and the comets that fall, WALL-E took these as his missing pieces. Would they find their course, soon enough?


[size=150]CHAPTER 9: Extraterrestrial Vegetation Evaluators[/size]

32 years past, going through another shift of time for the sake of impeding the old emotions kept by the Wall-E and the new ones he seeks to find, of the goals of companionship and knowing of meaning, to preserve the past and persevere for the future, of curiosity and newfound youth and sentience. All of these human experiences were shared by this robot, through and through, with just the right heart and determination of a man that now is too long dead to be physically examined anymore, rotted from years of pollution and natural decay.

The Wall-E could notice too, the colored plating on his body had worn to the same gritty browns and tans that littered the city, his buttons, while still functional, carried a vein of their original beauty of greens and reds. His treads, constantly replaced with new, smoother pieces, could not hide the rigid shape of squares that were once round. His eyes, despite his programming showing him clear vision, had collected nearly 500 years of dust and grains that would take hours of vigorous cleaning to clear. His hands, after multiple periods of trash compacting and collecting junk, revealed pieces of rust from when he would extend them outwards or inwards, all telling of the little oxygen that could bleed into his metal.

And yet, from the outside you would see a wretched void of a once prominent human existence, but from the inside you could hear the voracity and cheering of a 9-year boy at softball practice. Wall-E, day by day, even learning by heart, would hum the same repeated tune to Hello, Dolly!, without ever feeling bored or monotonous from it. His upbeat, optimistic glow, with the way he bounced his body slightly up and down from his treads, as if skipping across an entire road of wasteland, feeling content with the environment he was placed in. His eyes nodded to the hums he make in his music, his eyebrows raised highly in amusement and joy, complacent with his newfound nature and sense of identity. And his cockroach buddy, all but gleefully joining with him, his antennae flicking from side to side at the tune of WALL-E’s nodding and humming, chirping quietly over the loud revs of WALL-E’s 700 Pound body.

Apart from all the cheering and bustle that WALL-E was making, as he was heading towards yet another predisposed trash dump, the holograms of the old world still rang and repeated themselves despite mankind’s departure of them, only degrading by the pickups of the dust protruding through parts of the LED’s that littered much of the city, only outnumbered by the trash around it.

The holograms were meant to be projected by the presence of some entity, and tracking WALL-E’s presence as he scootered along, the hologram flickered on again, the screen dulled by years of projection and dust, mentioning something about many of Buy N’ Large’s established products.

WALL-E and his cockroach were somewhat surprised by this sudden intrusion, the cockroach retreating into WALL-E’s chest as WALL-E inspected the hologram, what with it’s huge, teetering projection.

Although WALL-E had a very poor understanding of the english language, his programming had set with him a series of codes that could take certain functions of the english language and translate it into something that would make sense to the Wall-E, so for the first time, WALL-E was thankful that his programming provided himself something like that, yet never allowed him to utilize it in any form.

Anyhow, he listened on, but with frustration, as some certain dulled phrases that the hologram’s projectors audited toward him did not translate seamlessly through, becoming NULL! signals deep within the many wires and sockets that built him, as the Wall-E was only getting piece meals of what the hologram was burgeoning him about.

"Come aboard the…! With indoor…, weather…docks, and our own…hoverchairs! come join the…, far far way from…! View distant…, … cosmetic needs, with… … amenities you can enjoy, …free! … B N…!!!

Despite the utterances of the hologram, the Wall-E was slightly amused that this was the only other means of communication he knew, apart from his Hello, Dolly! tape. But the amusement wore off, even from the massive display of the LED projectors, which the Wall-E unfortunately couldn’t see since his eyes were programmed in a way that couldn’t see invisible light such as LED’s, so all he could labor in was some partly incomprehensible nonsense.

As the Wall-E reclined back to his duties, with his cockroach friend climbing back out of his chest onto his shoulder, the Wall-E had ran into yet another projection that beamed up as soon as he reached to the middle of the projection’s width. In his curios naivety, he also stopped to listen to this one, already forgetful of the lost promises of the previous.

Apart from the previous hologram, which seemed to spew details about some particular service, this one seemed to elaborate more on some scheme, with more solid, clear and disposable voice, despite that this still had WAll-E in circles with what it was trying to come across with.

Hello there …-to-be astronauts, … president here, … you that the … will takeoff in a … from now, onto it’s … year cruise! We … the trip to … vacate those who … to live a life … trash! You are … asking yourselves, ‘How … you know that earth … be …?’. We … have … question answered! As you … see from … this … projection, we send … every … months to scavenge … for … resources, enabling our safe … back to our …! These Extra… Vegetat… …ators, or EVE …, will scour … pieces of … for … life, and … they do, shall be … to send their … to the main Lido …, which will … the … in hyper… directly to …! in five …, our WALL… units should have cleaned our … in … for humans to … … and …! This is your … president, signing out, and … shopping! …BNL!!!

The very same BNL end queue played, with equal infuriation to the Wall-E’s understanding of it. Despite the erratic cutoffs of WAll-E’s translator to the hologram’s poor audio frequency and quality, Wall-E became somewhat transfixed in the particular words that he could understand, especially those that seemed to mention him.

He became almost excited at the notion. He felt that he may have finally found the answer to what he was meant for, despite that the answer seemed unfinished in the most displeasing places for him. Sure, the most obvious answer to what the WALL-E was doing was that his trash compacting was to clean the earth, but WALL-E was no scientist, and could not understand how those two could be connected in any such way. Like a child, he had to look towards other people for the kinds of answers that would make him to be what he would be, be it video cassette or ancient holograms.

Maybe he thought that other things were involved.

He noticed the mention of a certain EVE thing that was supposed to obtain something from here on earth, but what it was completely boggled WALL-E’s mind. Not to mention, that the presence of these EVE things were never here to begin with, no real physical or tangible evidence of their presence could make the WALL-E more keen to finding what he was looking for. But surely, he knew that what he was doing was the catalyst for these EVE things to drop by someday, and ever since those 32 or so years ago, when his mind teetered on the landslide to his increased loss of companionship and loneliness, that he had to find something or someone else that he could look up to, reciprocate or show to them that they mean well and shall care. Would it that what the Wall-E was doing all of these years could lead to the possibility of these EVE things appearing? The strange lines of clouds and thumping of noise from miles of away seemed to support the idea that those contained the secret and the answer to his troubles with love and longing.

But he couldn’t see the EVE things anywhere, no such evidence for their existence or that there could be a existence was possible to him. Remember, he had a myriad of different conclusions to come by, to he wasn’t going to garnish this one as the ultimate and most possible. He could understand little of the projection, much less even see it, so to him it might had been jargon to begin with. As with the previous hologram, he lost his amusement of the projection’s ramblings, but with more vigor from the previous.

As many other holograms swam past him, proposing him with half told details of products and food, he ignored all of them, as well as their inane ramblings. They could tell him little, if anything at all that seemed significant to him.

With his cockroach by his side, like every day of every week of every waking year and century, the Wall-E resumed the same day, like he always did, complacent in his goals, whatever they may be, content with his life, full of trash compacting and knick knacks. And when evening fell, he tucked his friend to bed as he spent moments looking up at the stars and the big bright star that barely peeked out in the dusk. He would think again, what could be up there, waiting for him, before dust storms reminded him that he had to retreat back inside of his cove. And as he went back into his home, he pillowed himself inside one of the shelves of the distribution truck, putting himself into a sleep mode, which to him simply meant sleep. And this would go on and on and repeat itself for the coming of so many other waking day of every week of every year and century.

The only difference being is that Wall-E felt purpose behind it.

CHAPTER 10 HERE. THE LAST CHAPTER of the long awaited sequel to the prequel! I hope the wait was worth it for those who can even recall that I had begun working on this long ago! Hope there will be something worthwhile to come back to on here!

[size=150]CHAPTER 10: Underneath the Meaning of It All[/size]

697 years. 697 years of trash compacting, to the rhythm of trillions upon trillions of code that was all hard wired, packaged and compressed into 700 pounds of metallic think tanks, except that thinking was never a thought to be had. Would it make a difference if all the Wall-E’s would continue to do what they did, despite that their sentient others had left them to handle a world that they themselves could not, due largely to convenience? in 697 years they would had continued to do the same thing, and when the furnaces refused to burn any of the garbage, the trolleys never bothering to move, and every single gram and atom and molecule of trash that ever was and ever could be was finally organized by those autonomous machines, what do you think they would do afterwards, now that their work is done?

They would find something else to clean, some other piece of trash. They would look to the ends of the earth for something that suited their programming so delicately that they’d die before realizing that there isn’t anything else to clean anymore. 100,000 years they would continue to scour the ends of the earth and the cosmos for any sort of trash that has not and should be compacted and voided from their mechanical bowels into so many identical cubes.

What happens when at the last legs of their functionality, that only one remains? What does he do, when he can’t think, yet in his eyes he knows that he’ll be like his brethren, all lost relics to the continued contributions to technology some 697 years ago? Can he think of any means to break from it? Negatory, implies the programming. He was only meant to compact trash that isn’t there, upon trash skyscrapers that are already filled, to places already cleaned, in areas already filled. Did the robot expect no trash at all, at some point? Did human science predict how the robot could possibly handle himself without the nature of trash being a existence? Would the programming go into denial, say that indeed, there is more trash to find, more to clean, more to keep going? And how about the Wall-E, his programming the puppet master, pulling him by the strings but with no script to abide him to the words, no self conscience or awareness of the incidents around him, soon becoming blind to the convenience of only what he has? Is this the ultimate sacrifice that the humans had to give up? The thought of being proactive to all the things around them, but instead deciding that it all doesn’t matter, and sure it might kill us in the end, but let’s have the convenience for this moment?

697 years. The Axiom still high up in space, all too late to it’s originally 5 year vacation. But the humans do not care. They are not even aware that they were supposed to return. As long as all the necessities are present with them, so long as they can have that, they are happy. Roger Simmons, however, was not. The only dissenter amongst the system that has forsaken common awareness or sake, rather sacrificing their minds, hearts and physical bodies for all the luxuries. He made it back to earth, in time, but he never came back. He never would.

What did he think, when he came onto Earth, making his unorthodox attempt of bringing his own personal Wall-E “back to life”? Did he hope that the Wall-E would react in a way that differ the motives of his programming? What if in all of his attempts, that the Wall-E could had just gone about his day, continuing to compact trash as typically as any other hundred thousand of him did so in lock step? How could Roger be so sure that his plight and diligence could ever lead him to the victory of bringing sentience to his robot companion?

And yet, 697 years later, here he is, the Wall-E, all fully comprised of that once token human sentiment that has been dissected and surgically removed by the edifices of the BNL corporation that, while still being in existence, now only wears it’s face on the many labels still standing on earth and it’s ships. 697 years and the cradle still stands, dusty yet patient, hoping for the return of the Axiom. 697 years and WALL-E has done exactly as Roger has hoped, to learn more from what his programming, what BNL can tell you, what human incongruity has taught you.

697 years and despite all of them mainly comprised of the continued search for knick knacks, his truck still seems competent to maintain an almost indefinite amount of items, so long as those do not exceed it’s own size. Lights all litter the inside of the truck, contemplating WALL-E’s dislike for dark spaces, noting his own disfunctionality and human perception. He has with him a cockroach pet, to whom he feeds plenty of still fresh twinkies to, noting his companionship and sincerity to those less fortunate than himself, who runs on the unforgiving sun. He is nervous, shy, kind-hearted and weak, but strong when the time comes, but he doesn’t know that. He can be unsure of himself, always thinking up in the sky, for something more meaningful than just his work, something or someone who can be there for him to lean on rather than a insect that is only a thousandth of a thousandth his weight to be leaned on. He is diligent, despite the inflections of his programming, he continues to follow his work not in the name of what he was told but in the name of the principal reward that could ultimately follow, wherever it may be. He is curious, often scrounging through his job for anything of peculiar aesthetic, which he has grown more observant of through his studies. The skies, still cut from small lines like clouds that are wavered by bright lights at the end, like meteors coming down to earth, amazes WALL-E in the few moments that the sun does not obstruct his view with dust or dark. He loves beautiful things, the sky that shows him the much more bearable qualities of the world, where his programming at these moments goes silent, only for a moment. He bears these qualities, and the most important thing about all of them, they make him human. He might be 700 pounds of cold steel, paint rusted over from the dust and the bark of the sunlight, 93% of the integral parts on him not even his own, scrapped over and over from wear by his fellow comrades, who still feels grief for. These are not what make someone human. He knows that judgment is not from the outside, but from the inside, the like of which being his own running mainframe, still running at normal capacity, but truly this has not become a floppy drive filled with wires but a heart with arteries, that feels guilt, contempt, anger, happiness, and love for others.

3 years from now, there will be a event that will ultimately change not only his own normal life, but perhaps the life of those still contempt in their own impregnated luxuries, and the fate of his world. This does not come from some manifest destiny or likelihood of chance, and not from the linear objective of programming. NO, this comes from one destined for something that may seem so simple to them, but unwinds itself in a turn of events that ultimately leads to the return of these carbon based life forms. It does not take a man or a robot to accomplish a feat, it can not be taken from one who can easily follow to orders without asking questions, it must be from one who can understand the issues and be aware to the world around them, ready to take action that is swift and beneficial to the cause. The Wall-E does not have only 3 years to accomplish this: he has already done so, perhaps some 100 years before beginning to mention this to you. It might seem quite strange to you right now, to believe in the idea that some 700 pound, 700 year old trash compacter could ever possibly make the irrational and unintended decision of re-establishing human kind back into their homeworld, safe and free. Does it sound more practical to you that something that told him that he needs to do this, exactly this way and exactly that way, seem more plausible a situation? With no motive for love or hate or dissent or opinion or fact, that he had this specific quandry in the back of his hardware that intended him to accomplish this feat, told by the almighty spirit of his directive?

This cannot be so. There is no line preliminarily drawn for you to take you where you need to go. You are the one who makes the choices, the journey, and the sacrifices, it is on you what you do in life and what you strive for. It is not the choices we make, but evidently the choices that make us. You can decide to march left foot and right foot in, but how about the road less traveled? How about the greener pastures, the open hills and plains for which to spread the boundaries that are set by life’s programming? The Wall-E could find those greener pastures, beneath knick knacks and the like, he found solace, and as a human, he knows it isn’t enough. There is more to life than the need and want and love for self, humans are bound to care at one point, and the Wall-E is aware of this too. Must we stop loving too, just so we can continue to live at the plight of our benefits?

No. WALL-E would agree. There is more to life than what programming tells you, what other people tell you, and what you tell yourself you need, living in selfishness of others. live in selflessness and humility. Love those around you. Because in 3 years, when those events mentioned occur, in the end, irrational love, defeats life’s programming.

Um, what? All the chapters ARE HERE for you to enjoy. is Chapter 8 the FIRST CHAPTER you just came across to? Also, did you even read Before the Axiom before coming to this?