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.