“Beep?” Queried OtaMot, with polite curiosity.
”Perhaps its carrier wave is “Boop”, suggested Dratsum.
Both Faux-bots stood at the base of a massive maple tree, mere hours into their GREAT BIG ADVENTURE outside the cold, angular, repetitive confines of the warehouse they’d worked at all of their existence.
No strangers to patience, they’d been trying to access the trunk’s user interface since they’d stop to admire the infinite beauty of the moss at its feet, the craggy depth of its bark, the minute insects scurrying away from curious eyes.
”Boop?” Asked OtaMot, leaning close to the trunk, the better to catch any scattered sub frequencies, or loose lines of code that might drift from the tree and suggest what language it used.
No trees grew close enough to the warehouse to provide a break in the sliver of sky OtaMot and Dratsum could see from their conveyor belt controlled life, trees were alien entities to them.
They had concluded the tree was not inert, wasn’t a human, wasn’t a conveyor belt, a package, box or any other warehouse work associated thing. At least none they recognized.
There were no ports, no wires, though there’d been a brief moment of excitement when they’d observed the tree’s roots disappearing into the ground, “Power cables!”
It was thrilling, time passed quickly, the sky darkening and the hulking shape of the warehouse not so very far away became a black shadow against the deep blue sky.
If they’d been less curious, OtaMot and Dratsum would have noticed how tiring the crossing of the long stretch of boring, empty parking lot to the woodlot at the furthest edge had been.
The lure of the trees, the newness of it all, the branches bare of leaves, like a physical representation of a hierarchical database was a siren song, as unignorable in their new life of GREAT BIG ADVENTURE as the instructions to move boxes had been in their old life, mere hours ago.
There were other delights to investigate, strange sounds, something was calling “WHO WHO WHO?” In the distance, deeper in the shadowy forest and for a brief moment OtaMot and Dratsum had cheerily called “hello” back, answering with their assigned designations, “OtaMot and Dratsum here!” but the call had stopped,as if startled by their reply. The tree was still a mystery and the slow feeling of battery cells discharging, having moved off of their wireless charging stations was now unignorable.
Moving around the tree, so that its trunk blocked all view of their previous life, the two bots slid down onto the softest moss imaginable, that in itself was a miracle.
The warehouse had no softness.
”Boop…beep….” Whispered Dratsum, one more time, leaning against OtaMot in the darkness. The tree was silent.
They slept, batteries near empty.
The tree looked outwards with puzzlement.
It had listened, answered in its way, but there was a communication barrier greater than an ancient maple could seek to cross with even the bravest root.
It felt the stillness of the two creatures, leaning against their trunk, their spark of curiosity that tickled the tree’s sense of humour like tiny little waves of electricity running through.
It wondered, sending out messages to familial trees further in the forest, roots comingling, talking, sending signals back and forth, back and forth as the Faux-bots slumped in the chill night air.
A decision was made, perhaps related to the bit of magic that had swept through the warehouse and urged the Faux-bot’s unprecedented curiosity to explore and the tree gave back.
In the way of trees with jusssst a little bit more.
Otamot sighed, Dratsum smiled, a slow trickle charge of impossible power flowed up from the mossy earth beneath them.
”Boop-Beep: murmured OtaMot in their sleep.
The tree smiled.
