It was a town, but not as he’d thought of it. 

Several buildings constructed of wood were loosely in a sprawling grid. It was clear they'd been looked after but abandoned and upon closer inspection, he saw why. At one point a tributary river had been its lifeblood but the dry banks told the story only too clearly. When the water had gone, so had everyone. 

But not this one. The stoat was shorter than him by two foot and dressed in dusty overalls. A tool belt was about his waist and he walked with some difficulty so carried a thick piece of wood as an aid, on which he’d expertly carved a bird’s head. 

‘Just call me Clint. I’ve had worse.’ He grinned. ‘Welcome to Clintville!’

Eugene looked over the crumbling buildings. ‘You have this all to yourself? How do you survive?’

‘Well, the river there dried up. You see how bone-dry that is? Well, a lot of people see that and move on. But the water just retreated. It’s underground.’ Clint tapped the ground to prove his point. ‘I just go into the caves below here and grab it. Easier to manage for one!’

The stoat lived underground too. He’d taken residence in a drier cave and it looked, for all intents and purposes, cosy. Eugene felt himself nodding in quiet appreciation. 

‘I hope you don’t mind me staying for a bit. I’ve been on the road for a week I think. Would be nice to get some proper rest before I go to London.’ Eugene looked to the caves. ‘Maybe if I rest in another cave, you can still have yours.’

The stoat nodded. ‘By all means! There’s one next to mine. I’ll get some bedding for you. Have you eaten yet?’

It was a good meal. Eugene contributed his share of the bug meat and the stoat’s eyes lit up immediately. ‘There’s good eating on these!’

—---------------------

As Eugene slept, he remembered. 

He hated how memory came to him in quick bursts before sleep or in times where it was more dangerous, such as daydreaming. He’d gone days without it now but tonight, a flicker of something resurfaced that had him feeling less and less certain.

‘Well done, Eugene.’ The lead nanotechnology expert Marshall Walters beamed. He was a magpie and normally beaming was not something that came naturally to him. Eugene had nearly failed his classes once and his reaction had been a stony disappointment enough that he’d tried extra hard the next year. It had worked. 

The bird adjusted his spectacles. ‘I was particularly impressed with how you incorporated the nano devices into EQUUS. A self-repairing machine would be ideal for the harsh climate out there.’

Eugene felt pride surge in his chest. 19 was not quite a child prodigy but to grasp the concept and not only apply it to something else and get it to finally work was still a feat. ‘Thank you, sir! It took a few tries but the integration here is seamless now. It still has its limits. Major damage is still something I’m working on.’

Marshall waved a feathered hand vaguely. ‘Oh yes, absolutely. You got the concept down just right though. Now to improve on that is the next major hurdle. Trust me, you’ll find that a little slower.’

The fennec held his breath. ‘Actually that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I may need a little guidance there.’

He’d been dreading this. Marshall was one of the more strict sorts and was known to have a bigger antipathy for ‘up top’ as the surface was often called. ‘You’ll never find me up top,’ he’d grumbled more than once. ‘Bloody savages up there!’ It had been speculated an exploratory trip had gone wrong, which he vehemently denied. Either way, something about being topside had been enough to make him swear off any trips. 

Eugene held his breath. ‘Cornwall’s facility has a bit more of what I may need. I will ask my parents naturally but I need approval from another in case. I’m asking if I can join the next expedition ‘up top’ for some of the materials I need.’

You had to ask for the go ahead. This was the first chance he’d had in months. But asking one of the more hardened and grizzled ones here had scared him. He was a month behind already. 

Marshall tilted his head. He sat back. It looked for all the world like he was about to blow up with how his eyes settled from a jovial blue to a hardened steely look. Eventually he spoke. ‘Do we not have what you need here? What guidance could you need?’

Eugene swallowed. ‘Um. Guidance on a particular machine. It’s for the eyes. I did try here first though. But the particular inputs for it, we don’t have.’ If he had to get technical, he would. ‘But I was told someone there has what I need. And here’s a convoy headed there in 5 days.’

An eye twitched. Then the old bird sighed. ‘You can go. Who am to stop your progress.’ He offered a wan smile. ‘I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t stop you. But ‘up top’ is… It’s a strange place. I can see it in some who venture there more often than not. You can get strange ideas up there. I just want you to be safe.’

‘Thank you.’ Eugene sighed in relief. ‘And I’ll be safe. I’ll make sure I will be.’

Huh. Strange ideas? What strange ideas?

He’d gone on the convoy. He’d been quite safe. And on return, he was happy to say he had no strange ideas from up top. 

But it was still an odd thing to say. Marshall was a notoriously private sort and it was still speculated about what had caused him to become so virulently hateful of ‘up top’. 

As usual Sten had his answer. The bear, as part of his work, was always on expeditions and came back full of ideas. ‘Think of it this way,’ he’d said once. ‘I go up with my team once every… Oh, every few weeks. 5 or so. But that's because we do longitudinal, you see. I mean I could go up a damn sight more often and I’d love to but that means having to be up there a lot more. Even living up there!’

Eugene tried to think. ‘I don’t get it. What’s that got to do with Marshall?’

‘Everything. Robotics and nanotech is your area, right? You don’t need to do studies like I do with heritage crops and plants. You monitor completely different things. But I have to go up a lot more and well, I get to speak to them. I get to know them.’ He shrugged. ‘And.. Eugene. It’s really not as bad as they say up there. Up top is just fine in places. It just needs a helping hand, that’s all.’ Sten shrugged again. 

Was that all it really came to? There had to be more to it. Sten had not supplied anything after they dropped the conversation. Then he had thrown himself into his work. He’d forgotten the conversation.

No. He hadn’t. He’d put it at the back of his mind. He’d made EQUUS then Zero then, yes, Zero Two, the show model. He’d just made himself busy because now he had questions. Not questions the minds down here could answer without some careful use of language. 

As he drifted off and the dream of the meeting and the recollection swirled in his mind, he felt troubled. There had to be more to that than just a fear (and a very unscientific one at that!) of being contradicted. 

—------------------------------------------

The next two days were worth the rest. Without realising it, he’d sprained an ankle and that alone would have made walking harder. Clint was generous enough to give him some bandages to act as a support and while he still took the time to explore the abandoned town, it was with great care. 

The ruined houses had formed a crude town but it was larger than he’d realised. During the day, Clint scavenged the houses and found food in the shade and scraggy grasses that made up its inhabitants. The only time he didn’t was when the roar and buzz of motorcycles announced road raiders and bandits. They had remained below ground at the first sound of a motorcycle's roar for the rest of the day until dusk on one of those days.  

Today though it was quiet. Clint pointed out the gun turrets on what had been a shop. ‘I built those. They don’t work no more though. Sand got into them and you try finding parts to replace them.’

Eugene looked at the crude defences. Gaps everywhere. No wonder the sand had damaged the mechanisms. ‘Is that why you hide?’

‘Too damn right!’ The stoat cackled. ‘You think I’m fighting those goons on those things? I can take out one or two but there’s normally about 10 of the devils. No, best to let them think this place is gone then hide underground.’

‘I’ve been hiding underground for all my life. All in the name of science.’ He found a bean plant in some shade, so began checking it over. Was this one of Sten’s heritage projects? He began plucking the pods. ‘I’ve no experience of fighting.’

‘Good thing you found here then!’ Clint cackled again and Eugene felt his tail thrash in mild annoyance. The cackle grated on his nerves. 

His dream had still bothered him. He decided to try to get more information instead. ‘I have a question. Are you an engineer of sorts?’

Clint nodded. ‘Automobiles mostly. But in my younger days, I worked on a few planes to get them working. That was before we realised the fuel alone wouldn’t make it worth it.’ He looked almost wistful. ‘I’d have loved to see one of those birds fly. ‘Course, the parts were still going so someone decided to scrap the planes and they made other things out of them.’ His expression turned dark, with a tinge of sadness. ‘And now I’ll never get to see ‘em fly.’

Eugene felt like he had strayed into a sore territory. He tried for what he hoped was sympathy or empathy. ‘Oh. Um. Very sorry to hear that. Do you know who did do that? I mean, there may be-’

‘Save it, kid. My dream might not happen but I’m honestly happy just living. I live another day, I’ve achieved my dream.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m not like you science types. You always have to do one better, go one better. There’s no stopping you but you and eventually death. That’s the problem.’ 

Well this had taken a turn.

Eugene blinked. ‘Wait. What? You mean me wanting to help this world and make it better is a problem?’ Maybe Marshall had a point after all. Maybe he’d presumed too much. These could be the ramblings of an old man. Eugene couldn’t help but take it a little personally.

Clint gave him a curious look. ‘Didn’t you all just leave us to hide underground? You all just left. We had to weather the worst of it out here.’ He noticed Eugene’s look of confusion. ‘Oh. They didn’t tell you that.’ 

‘I… I thought everyone was underground because of how terrible it was!’

Clint leaned on the heavy short stick. Eugene was taller than him but somehow, least in his eyes, was still a child. The fox was looking so bereft and lost now. He looked as though he’d burst into tears at any moment. 

‘Listen, kid. I don’t know the ins and outs of it. But all I know is this: I grew up in Oxford. And at some point we had your lot out here with the rest of us. Then suddenly they left. The only thing I heard was that they didn’t want anything to do with us. My old man was furious with the lot of you.’ 

Eugene remained silent. 

‘Fact is… I’m not my old man. I’m me. And I don’t have a grudge.’He paused again, watching Eugene’s face carefully. ‘Now if my old man was still alive and he saw you, you’d get an earful and more. He could have a grudge that lasted till death and he did!’ He patted Eugene’s side gently. ‘The thing is that no one knew what happened. But if nothing’s said and you all hide underground, then rumour fills it. Then lies. And… Well. We get you taking the flak for something that's not your fault.’ 

The fox listened. When he finally spoke, he was quiet. ‘I need a lie down. I think I’ve been in the sun too long.’

—------------------------

Dinner was simple. A trap had caught a rabbit and Clint had prepared it carefully. Along with the beans they’d gathered then soaked, it was as good a meal as he could hope. 

Over dinner, Clint looked over at him. ‘Sorry kid. For earlier. I didn’t mean to make it like I was accusing you. Talking about the past gets me in a mood sometimes is all. I shouldn’t take it out on you.’

Eugene took the offered food bowl and shook his head. ‘You’re fine. I had no idea it was a sore topic still. I haven’t talked to many up here, unless you count farmers.’

There was silence as they ate. 

‘What’d they tell you?’ Clint was gentle. ‘You know, in your bases. If you’re wanting to talk about that. It’s fine if you don’t.’

The fox paused then spoke. He was only too glad to finally talk about it. If anything, over food was the best way because his hands were occupied with the bowls and cutlery and he wasn’t so anxious. For a good few days, this had been bothering him too.

He told Clint of the one story he did know, his parents. He explained how they came from Reading then were accepted into the fold or their attempted work on irrigation was considered laughable. On that, he noticeably stumbled as he recounted it. It sounded absurd but that was what his father had said. Their method was simply considered impossible, he recalled. 

The Institute had accepted them and then he had been born, underground, having no idea of the outside world or how it had operated. They’d warned him it was dangerous. If you didn’t die from bandits, you died of disease of which there was no known cure. If not disease then starvation. Possibly even both! That was why they made it a rule that he ask to go on expeditions before going. If it was still dangerous, they wanted to know he would at least be safe with the convoys. 

Eventually he went quiet as recollection faded into smaller and incomplete tales. He wished he could remember more but what little he did remember had been swallowed up by the frequent classes he took then his own research.

Clint took it all in with keen interest but said nothing. 

‘So, that’s that. That’s what I do know. I’ve never been up top for this long and not without a plan to come back.’

‘Back to the safety of the below?’ Eugene nodded at Clint’s remark. ‘You think you’ll get back there?’ 

The stoat leaned back, lighting a pipe. Eugene was about to respond but instead watched in rapt fascination as what was in the pipe’s open end ignited and sparked before smoking. It was something enough to distract him from the myriad of questions he still had. ‘I thought tobacco was exhausted like everything else.’

Clint nodded. ‘It’s called making do. This works just as well.’

That seemed to be that. No explanation what was stuffed into the pipe. Eugene was too tired to ask anyway, or to answer the stoat’s question. It was time for bed.

Before they parted for bed, Eugene stopped at the entrance to his cave. 

‘I, er, wanted to thank you.’ 

‘For what?’

‘Listening, I guess. Hearing me out.’

Clint smiled but did not move from his seat around the fire. ‘Sometimes all you need is a different perspective and a willing ear.’

The fennec nodded then glanced down as thoughts rose once more. ‘It’s… not fair. I thought I’d be helping make a perfect world. Instead, all it seems is that I’m getting more questions than answers and it’s not what I was, I suppose, sold.’

‘You thought you’d be seeing perfection up here, right? Or something like it. ’ The stoat sounded amused more than anything. 

The fennec shook his head. ‘Not really. The reason I made Zero is for making and forging a perfect world. I think. In my head anyway. But… I don’t know.  I just wanted to make the perfect world, like they said I could. Is that so hard?’ His look at Zero made Clint look too. 

Clint had not entirely been idle in his observations. The fox was, now more than ever, in his eyes very much a child, one learning the world was not as he thought. He’d talked about what he knew, that much was true. But there was so much more unsaid and much of it was about the robotic creature in that cave. 

‘It’s a noble goal, lad.’ Clint looked back at Eugene then at Zero. ‘He’s your world, isn’t he?’

‘It.’ But it wasn’t said with conviction. 

‘As you say. But I’ve seen you with that runfast. That thing’s your world. Otherwise you wouldn’t have left without it.’

The fennec nodded and now his look of troubled angst faded to a warm smile that was full of genuine affection. ‘I wouldn’t have left Zero behind. Sometimes, and I know it sounds stupid, I wish I could be just like it. Just like Zero.’

Something changed in the air the moment he said that. There was something for a mere second that felt different then whatever moment had passed faded. Clint looked between them both then smiled. ‘You know, there’s an old saying….’

‘Be careful what you wish for. I know.’

Clint clicked his fingers. ‘That’s the one! Well, it’s been a long day. You’d best sleep. Good night.’

Eugene waved his goodbye before heading to bed.

—-----------------------------------

He couldn’t sleep. 

Clint had been right. There was a lot more to this than an exodus of great minds. He may have been set off in a dark mood earlier but Clint was right. Nothing had been said, rumour had filled the gaps. And what seemed to be worse was that even his own parents seemed to have given him half truths. 

Eugene Clintock had only known the facility. He’d known classes, study, being able to ask what he could and yet, he hadn’t thought to ask why so many brains were underground, in one facility, all seemingly with the same story. 

It started with an idea. Someone high up said no. There’d been disagreements, the scientists had left. Then time filled in the gaps, making up stories then inserting lies. 

There was no way, literally no way on this earth that they’d abandon people. Sten would have been appalled at the very idea! 

Eugene carefully rolled upwards and looked out at the where the fire was. Then he blinked. For the briefest of seconds, he thought the stoat had gone, replaced by a crow of strange orange colouration and smoking the pipe. The shadow there had certainly leant the perspective of a more birdlike figure hunched over the fire. It had even worn a hat.

He looked again. The shadow was still there, just very long. The stoat was still there too but this time he was whittling a piece of wood. The strips he carved went into the fire. The stoat was also humming something. He hadn’t heard the fennec stir. 

Eugene had to wonder about the strange old man. It was clear he’d been out here a while, eking out his living in the ruins of a once prosperous town. Maybe it had been long enough that his mind had started to dwell on the past and remain stuck there. 

He seemed nice enough but there was nonetheless an edge to him. Maybe you had to have one to survive out here, one you didn’t need underground. Nonetheless, there was something about him he couldn’t quite work out. 

He lay back down and feigned sleep. Something about Clint bothered him. He was not entirely sure what it was. It was just a feeling he had that something was unusual in him. Not that he’d turn away a friendly face, his inner voice hurriedly reassured other parts of his mind, but…

He halted that line of thought. He wasn’t sure where it was going and he was definitely sure he didn't like it. He’d try to sleep for now and maybe thought would be clearer in the morning. Things looked better after sleep. 

—-------------------

The day after the night before saw a brilliant dawn. Eugene found a good place to watch the sun rise and the play of the colours on the clouds before it gave way to a brilliant blue sky. 

It was starting to warm up which he was thankful for. Dawn and sunset was when temperatures dipped and he still had nothing that allowed him to keep warm in those times. 

Strange thing there was that he’d woken up not really needed to warm up. The cold had bitten hard the past few days upon waking, dawn greeted by a shivering as he was unused to the changing temperatures. The Institute had really spoiled him for moderate temperature control. Today though, he’d felt warm inside. 

He wished he hadn’t dropped his bag of supplies, for about the millionth time. It had his notebook in and he’d have liked to make notes. 

Zero was with him. He’d felt bad for hiding Zero away the entire foraging trip yesterday. It had been for the best as the bandits could still have been around but today it seemed to be quiet. 

He looked over to his steed, the silvery finnish reflecting the dawn glow before it became blue. He smiled. 

‘No matter how often that happens, it never gets old. Just think how Zero Two would have looked on a farm, starting early with the dawn.’ He stood up and patted the smooth flank. His ankle had recovered too. In fact, it had been surprising how quickly it had recovered. Not even one twinge of complaint.

His hand patted smooth flanks but then he noticed something else. Hadn’t there been the faintest of seams there before, shimmering before vanishing like it always did? It wasn’t there now. Not even when Zero moved.  He shook his head. Still tired, that was it. 

‘Giving it a bit of air?’ Clint’s voice drifted over. ‘Come on. I got a bit of news.’

The news was, in one way good, in another frustrating. 

‘So I rigged up this radio here and I keep tabs on things to see if there’s anything I should be aware of. They called it ham radio. Either way, useful little thing.’ Clint gestured to the radio set up. It was crude and very cobbled together but it worked well. The sound that came out of it had sounded clear enough. 

‘What did you hear?’ Eugene tried not to show too much impatience, leaning forward in anticipation. 

‘About a convoy, surrounded by guards. Outskirts of London, been travelling a fair few days. They’re about 5 days ahead of us.’ Clint continued, appearing to ignore Eugene’s impatience. 

‘Could they be.. We’re not talking merchants are we? Are we?’ He had to be sure.

‘Merchants travel in great big caravans or wagons. Radio terms have to be very precise, or we waste time going back and forth asking what it is.’ Clint explained patiently. ‘So when I say convoy, we mean they aren’t merchants and they sure as hell aren’t raiders or bandits.’

‘Then they probably made it!’ Eugene yipped, the first true sign of joy he’d had a long while. ‘I know exactly where they’re going! I’ll have to follow them.’ He made to go to his part of the cave before Clint’s voice halted him. 

‘You’re just going to go with no idea of what’s up ahead?’ He waited until he had Eugene’s attention. ‘I told you. They’re five days travel ahead of us. You have no idea what’s up there or what you could face in 5 days.’

The fox hesitated. He bit his lip then shook his head. 

‘Well I do. So before you get going, we’re going to load up. Then I’m coming with you. You’ll need a guide out here, especially with how London’s changed.’

—-----------------------

That was the frustrating thing but he had to concede Clint was right. They had little to no food and needed to stock up. Then the other frustrating thing was Clint insisting on walking when with Zero, he could have just ridden all the way. 

‘Yeah, sure you can. But can your runfast protect you from whatever danger there could be? You just said as much that you can’t fight.’

Clint was, again, right. Zero had no combative abilities. It was designed to help, not to fight.

They left the former town. Clint had the radio strapped to his back initially but the weight of that and any supplies meant that his hobbling became worse. Eugene, in some impatience and mostly concern, had offered to have Zero hold the heavier supplies and this was agreed. Clint had insisted on keeping the radio.

Now, at last, they were off. 

The road was straight ahead. Dust had blown across it but it was still a large main road at heart. Clint had suggested they follow it during the day until nightfall when they’d find another station. ‘There’s plenty of them. When they built these roads a long time ago, had to have somewhere to rest. Good thing too, otherwise we’d not have anywhere to stay!’

There’d been a few additions to their travel needs. Clint now wore a long brimmed hat and so did Eugene. He’d been berated for not wearing one at all during the day by the stoat. Eugene had also replaced his worn boots, taking relatively fresher ones better suited for long travel. 

Despite the obvious advantage of Eugene riding Zero, Clint was still ahead. He hobbled but it was not too obvious. The fox had wondered if the old man was actually as weak as he looked, and by extension, if showing weakness or apparent weakness was a good idea in this sort of climate.

‘Eyes on the road, lad. Keep those radar ears of yours peeled.’

His eyes were on the road. In fact he was glancing at Clint’s shadow. 

He had to have imagined it. He was tired, it had been a long day. He’d had sunstroke and not enough water. But that night in the cave he’d seen Clint’s shadow change. It wasn’t a long shadow cast by the fire, it was the shadow of a creature the stoat wasn’t! And it hadn’t been Clint there, it had been a taller bird with orange feathers and a hat. The image had only vanished after he’d blinked. 

Right now Clint’s shadow was normal. 

Darkness fell and they found another stop. Eugene took the time to scout it out and it was empty. This one had been ravaged more though. The pumps outside had been torn into with tools.Eugene thought it looked recent but the thick coating of sand and dust  suggested maybe longer.

‘That'll be from the fuel shortage. People would rip them open for last dregs then leave them.’ Clint tapped one with his stick. ‘Fat lot of good it did. Those dregs wouldn’t last long.’

The fire was small but still warm. The fennec felt strangely warm again but with his suspicion of Clint still there, he declined to say anything about it. The food was simple, strips of meat cooked into a thin soup with some water. It wasn’t much but it would do. 

Eugene laid out his blanket then watched Clint fiddle with the radio again. ‘Any news?’

Clint shook his head. ‘Silent now. Sometimes I go a few days without news. Seems even our raider friends stay quiet.’

They both had to agree that was a good thing. The fox watched him work the radio a little more, eventually asking how it worked. For the next hour, with voices quiet and eyes watchful for the outside, Clint did give him a brief overview. 

It was funny how similar it was to the radios they made for fun back in the facility, a way to help understand circuits and nurture skills. As conflicted as he was about how he felt about being underground and why, this short moment was a warm glow in his memory. 

‘You’re a natural.’ Clint smiled. Mind you, with your runfast there, no wonder. Bet there’s all sorts of wizardry in that.’

‘Far more complicated than this.’ Eugene gestured to the radio. ‘This radio is cobbled together but works. I had far more precise tools. But sometimes going back to basics is necessary.’

The next two days of travel was considerably more arduous. The midday sun, even with water and hats, was intolerable at times. They often camped out along the road, finding the shade of a tree or what remained of a forest made things easier. It wasn’t quite a desert but in some parts, it was dangerously close to one.

At another rest stop, this time a larger station that also had each pump ripped apart and the shop ransacked, they had made camp. 

The meal this time was a little more hearty. The apples he’d picked from an oasis several hours away made for a good cooked down cobbler style dish. 

The past days had given Eugene a new look at Zero. The horse, runfast or whatever they said out here, was extremely durable. In the high heat though, the road was not ideal. The road heat was like a furnace and even the most durable metal couldn’t stand too much. Zero’s hooves were fine but it wasn’t worth the risk if the heat would be that bad. 

He brushed along the smooth back, the flanks and legs, getting the dust off. The mane and tail, solid blocks of metal, came after. 

‘I’ve been meaning to ask.’ Clint watched Eugene clean Zero from the dust. To him, it looked almost reverential. It was curious to observe. You said Zero’s an it. I kinda wanted to ask a few nights ago but… why?’

It wasn’t a mocking tone. It was curious but Eugene somehow felt a little nonplussed by it regardless. It had been a hot day. He just wanted to relax. 

‘What does it matter? I’ve heard you call your radio it before. Why is my case unusual?’

Clint shrugged but wasn’t going to stop poking. ‘My radio? She is my lifeline. If I say it, then I mean something’s gone funny. Like last night, one connection came loose. Now the wire I called it, and a whole lot more besides. But the whole thing? Well, she was always a she in my mind. After the first radio voice I heard.’ He grinned.

The fox silently counted under his breath. Counting to ten rarely worked, so someone had said. It just made you even angrier. Somehow he managed to cool his temper. 

Turning, he gave Clint a look. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

‘Maybe I will. Just find the words. You science types are good at words.’

That did feel mocking. The fox sighed, unable to conceal the frustration. ‘Then maybe you’ll answer one of my questions after. A fair deal?’

‘Done.’ Clint looked expectant from his seat on the floor next to the radio. 

‘Right.’ Okay. Now to explain the deep thoughts the fox had. He decided to try anyway. ‘You will never fully understand how it was in the facility. We weren’t in competition, but it was… It was the kind of atmosphere that could lead to it if that makes sense.’ He watched Clint carefully then turned back to cleaning Zero. ‘We had wonder kids, a few who grasped ideas so quickly that they were hailed as prodigies. But still, you know, kids. And I wasn’t one of them but I did have a very good grasp of circuits and the like. I guess… I think I saw them as expressing a means of perfection few things can. Not even nature could replicate what I saw in them.’

Clint simply nodded to show he was paying attention.

‘There’s a beauty in machines I can’t describe. It isn’t male or female. I couldn’t even say it has a concept of being anything in between. Machinery and all its intricacies just is. It is an it in my mind. And here with Zero, I perfected the look and feel of a machine that replicates an animal you don’t see very often.’

As he spoke, Eugene felt the frustration simmer out of his voice. Talking about machines had that effect as Sten Heywood would definitely have testified. By the time he was talking about Zero, it was pure reverence. 

‘What I see when I work on Zero is me helping the perfect to exist. Now people can see a… a runfast, a horse, and see they are elegant, majestic...’ His hand trailed over the now dust-free sides, from shoulder to flank. ‘And like the famous Uffington horse, they’ll understand why it is that our culture thrived with them.’

Clint tilted his head. He’d listened, quite intently but he wasn’t exactly wanting to say what was on his mind. From his point of view, little was perfect but he’d accept minor imperfections over complete perfection. Sometimes, yes, imperfections were what made something work.

Instead of voicing his thought, he said: ‘Well I think I understand better now. You big brain types are something else.’ He clicked his tongue idly as the atmosphere changed in a second then passed. A feeling that had passed the previous time they’d talked about Zero, almost impossible to describe. If Eugene had felt it, he didn’t show it. ‘So let’s get this out of the way. I asked you a question, you get to ask me. Fair’s fair.’ 

The fox nodded, switching Zero to dormant mode. He sat down in front of Clint, looking as much all business as he could after such a monologue. ‘You keep saying London is not what I’m thinking it will be. I’ve never been but even those with me never talked much about it. What the hell is going on there?’

Clint leaned back, enough that his back was to the wall. His arms folded. ‘I probably should have said earlier but I think half the time you don’t really listen. You’re still stuck in this…’ He snapped his fingers irritably. ‘You got this way of thinking that makes me think you’re in a land of your own, like it’ll all go right. Like your talk of perfection.  But the truth is it’s not like that. So here it is: London’s gone. We don’t know what happened. But it's gone. Damn near nothing left.’

He saw Eugene’s expression change. Clint sighed. ‘I can tell you any which way you like. But that's the truth of it. Bandits pick at its remains like vultures. And I know folks like you. You’ll have to see it to believe it.’

The fox was silent. His mouth had fallen open. 

That couldn’t be right! He remembered the instructions now. All three evacuation convoys would meet outside London. From there, it was into the London bunkers for safety and to pick up on what they’d been doing. He’d spent hours putting his research into a smaller format so it could be sent off and that had been overseen by several others, by their own instruction! 

There was no way the stoat was right. He shook his head violently and set his jaw in grim determination. 

‘No. It can't be. Lead me there, let me see it for myself! You’ll see it’s still there!’ He stood up briskly, pacing the floor with his tail bristling. 

Clint raised a brow and shook his head. ‘I’ve held off from saying this but you really are just a kid. A damn kid! You have no idea how it all works and think that just because you were told one thing, that means it’s true. Take it for what it is. I wouldn’t lie about that. London isn’t there any more, or if she is, then not much of her remains.’

‘Then if you say you’re not lying, why do I feel you’re just trying to stop me?’ The fox stopped pacing and glowered at Clint. 

‘Because maybe you’re not listening.’ The stoat rolled his eyes. ‘And you’re being stupid right now. I get it, you want to see your family again, that’s great. But honestly, we’re still trying to catch up and who knows where they’ve gone?’ 

It was clear he wasn’t helping. Clint didn’t feel much like helping anyway but right now, maybe he needed to get this sorted. He stood up with difficulty and hobbled over to Eugene, who was on the verge of tears.

‘Listen, and listen good now, yes? Look at me.’ He waited until Eugene was looking at him directly. ‘I am not trying to stop you but I had a feeling you wouldn’t believe me. I’ve met some of your sorts before. You’re open minded at times but then say something else and your minds shut off. I gave up talking to ‘em. But I said I’d help you and if you want me to go to London with you, I’ll go. Okay?’

The fox nodded, wiping his eyes. 

‘Good. Now just be prepared for what you’ll see. That's all I’m saying. And I hope at least someone’s waiting for you there.’

That seemed to close that off. Eugene went to bed while Clint remained on watch. 

—----------------------------

Eugene dreamed. 

It wasn’t a recollection. If it was, he was sure that this one was nothing like his time underground at all. 

His body was strapped to a table. It wasn’t too tight but somehow he did not feel like moving. It wouldn’t be the first time he had ever dreamed something like this but this one felt different. 

It reminded him of the only time he’d had to have an operation. It had been minor, appendix removal being something that was very routine. The scar was still there. When he’d been set on the table and looking up into the bright lights, it had looked a lot like this. 

‘Shall we begin?’

Eugene tried to talk but it felt like his muzzle was filled with fluff. To his horror, he couldn’t move his jaw either.

‘I think he’s ready.’ Another voice. It was as if he was hearing through gauze but he swore it sounded like Clint. 

‘Good, good.’ The other voice was unfamiliar. It carried a lot of authority though. ‘No need for that, this won’t hurt a bit.’

‘Are you sure?’ The Clint voice again. 

‘Oh positive, positive. They’re small, you see. Can hardly see them by the naked eye. He won’t feel a thing.’

There was a clink of tools on metal as if being taken out of, or put back onto a tray. Whoever they were,they were not professional. He tried to speak again. What were they doing, his mind screamed. What were they putting in him? Why can’t I feel it? Can someone tell me what’s going on?

‘There we go… Done. Now that.. Yes. Now we wait. Put him back to sleep.’

The last thing Eugene heard as the dream fell away was  the Clint voice saying ‘I don’t know. All people want these days is to be perfect. I hope he’s happy with this.’

—-----------------------------------

Eugene did not relay the dream to Clint. He’d woken up in the night again and just drifted off, thankfully no further dreams, no recollections. 

They were two days away from London now. The day’s journey was started much earlier to take advantage of the cooler air but the atmosphere between the two was even colder. The only time they spoke was to communicate moving from the road to the shade that was becoming ever more sparse. 

The night came but already Eugene was seeing more of what Clint had meant. The road had bent and twisted, forming strange shapes and smoother areas that had once been molten road, long cooled now. Trees had grown back but they grew on uneven ground and filled the deep gulfs of cracks where the road had been. Grasses surrounded them, swayed by a breeze. 

Something had happened. But that did not mean London was gone forever. 

That evening, Clint kept watch. They’d hardly talked all day. The fox went to sleep again, although only after some restlessness. 

—-----------------

The same damn dream.

The same two, the Clint voice and the other. He could vaguely see them. They looked avian, but which bird kind they were, he wasn’t sure. 

This time he was strapped down by the chest and… They were removing his arm. It was his right one. There was no sensation other than a faint buzzing.

‘It’s started.’ Clint voice said, to Eugene’s right. ‘Here it is.’ 

What was starting? Eugene looked over and saw his arm. It hadn’t hurt to remove but as he watched, the joint where his arm met his shoulder began to grow wires. They were thin like tendons yet strong. His hand flexed reflectively. 

Even that was strange. The fingers moved as though unsure. And were they also getting more reflective? They weren’t furred, they were shiny. Just like Zero’s ‘skin’. 

The other arm was the same. Joints moved with uncertainty then fluidly as though nothing had happened. 

The other voice was closer now. They had his chest open. Again, no pain no unpleasant sensation, just the chest opened apart and a thin slender tool testing various parts within. He tried to look in. It was his chest cavity but strangely bloodless. The tool probed and tested, then a clink as it was set aside. 

‘All looking good. Responses as expected, no abnormalities.’

‘Except his brain. I always say it’s the last to change.’

His chest was closed. That was silent. Eugene marvelled at how it looked like there was no seam at all. 

He was becoming a machine. His arms were put back with a slighting jolting sensation. 

The last he heard was a faint buzzing in his skull before the not-Clint voice said with satisfaction ‘Ah. There he goes. I knew it wouldn’t be long.’

—--------------------------------

Eugene was awake but immediately something felt off. 

‘Clint?’

The stoat was up before him, usually cooking. This time though, there was no cooking. There was no fire. 

The fox stood up quickly and wondered if he’d just gone, starting his search as quietly as he could in the last remaining station shelter they’d found. He hadn’t had to look far.

Clint’s radio was live. Its flickering red lights told him it was scanning the airwaves, waiting for a response. Before it, the stoat was sat, cross-legged, head bowed. 

‘Clint?’ Eugene whispered urgently and tapped his shoulder. ‘We should-’

The touch was enough to make the stoat fall over to the side. Eugene almost squealed. He felt cold, the cold of death. How long had he been like this? Was rigour mortis about to set in? He stared into eyes that had long ago given up and whimpered. 

Okay. So he still felt a little warm. There was no pulse, no breathing. Clint really had just passed in the night. 

The fox felt his breathing tighten in fear and panic. Clint had shown him the way after all. Who else had been friendly, other than a shrew with a bad temper? They’d had the one day of nothing but essential contact but that could be forgiven, right? 

Okay. Focus. Get a grip. He tried to keep his nerves from fraying. 

Just follow the road and he’d be fine. He’d take the radio with him. Clint wouldn’t want his handiwork forgotten. 

A voice crackled on the airwaves. ‘This is Ham, over. Respond, over.’ The crackling couldn’t hide the faint concern. Eugene swallowed, picking up what appeared to be a speaking tube in Clint’ dead hand. 

‘This is Crow, over. Um. Crow has… passed away. He can't answer, over.’ His voice shook but still rang as clearly as it could. Crow had been Clint’s calling card on the airwaves. He waited, feeling shaky. 

‘This is Ham. Look… are you Crow’s companion? Where are you? Over.’

Eugene nodded then realised he was nodding to a radio. Hastily wiping his eyes, he spoke again. ‘This is Crow. Er. I mean, yes I’m travelling with him. I’m Eugene. We’re one day from the outskirts of London. Er, coming from Dover direction. Over.’

Time seemed like an eternity as he awaited a reply. 

‘Right. Eugene? At this very moment, I suggest you start walking. When you see the road join a huge junction, stop. I will meet you.Over.’

‘Is it safe? I mean, are there bandits?’ Eugene sounded panicked. 

‘It’s safe. But the sooner you start, the sooner I can meet you. You’ll know me by the radio on my back and the bright yellow hardhat. Understood? Over.’

Eugene closed his eyes. He found his voice after a few breaths. ‘Understood. Over.’

The radio crackled to silence. 

Not the start he’d hoped for. He’d cried at funerals before. It wasn’t held over him like a badge of shame. A noted professor had died when he reached 20, days after he’d taken a class of his. He’d been shaken and given some time off to process it as he could barely concentrate on his own studies. It had been all the more jarring because he was as healthy as anything then it had just happened. 

He wondered if Clint had had anything similar. Maybe age had just decided his body stop altogether. He’d been old, certainly older than Eugene so maybe there’d been more to it than just that. 

Clint was covered with a cloth and his eyes closed. Eugene didn’t make a speech or anything but uttered a very quiet ‘Sorry. I wish we could have worked it out.’

Zero was activated. In the dull silence of the former petrol station, Zero seemed quieter still. It watched Eugene as he took out some dried meat from the bag and attached the radio straps to his back. 

‘I’m sorry. It's just us.’ The fox bit his lip. ‘We have a friend helping us. We have to get going though. No time to enjoy the sunrise today.’

Not strictly true as the sun rose over the mangled road and painted its array of colours over the landscape. While beautiful, it didn’t do much with the sudden heavy weight on his heart. 

If he had paid attention, he’d have noticed the radio was hardly any weight at all for him, whereas before it had felt like a bag of bricks. 

He wouldn’t have noticed the only other thing to happen as he rode off. 

Behind him, the cover over Clint’s body sagged and flattened completely as though it was covering nothing but bare floor.