Reawakened.
A well-deserved restart after an endless amount of time.
There the machine sees the blankness of the room once again.
Splotches of black overlay aisles of white.
The carving, a shattered pile now.
The word on the sign altered:
Guilt.
How long has the restart taken?
The machine leaves the carving room.
Going into the corridor once more.
Doors now splayed open.
Gores of black covering their once pristine rooms.
Leaving the halls the machine comes across the tree once more.
Now no longer in its white pristine form.
Hands writhing, limbs shuffling, a waltz of muted cries.
No longer does it bleed.
Its leaves, fallen and collapsed.
The right stairway, now a ramp allowing for easy passage.
The machine takes this chance.
Getting to the top of the stairwell the machine enters the forest.
Each tree writhes in pain.
Wailing, screaming, screeching.
Yet it is all unheard.
Muted their cries, unseen by all.
Instead, several white creatures meander throughout the path across the forest.
Seemingly blind to the screams of the trees.
They move as if they themselves don't know where to go.
Yet as they near the trees they do not react.
They move along.
The machine goes up to one of these creatures.
Their face, the same as the white figure it knows.
"What is occurring?"
The machine waits for the response, but what it gets is disheartening.
"what do you mean? Nothing's happening."
The creature soon begins to do their walk again.
Are they truly blind to what's happening?
Will they refuse to help?
Continuing their blind saunter.
The machine knows nothing can be done for now.
It leaves the forest.
Perhaps, just maybe.
If it gets close enough, the tree will speak.
It may tell the machine what it feels.
The machine moves down the ramp.
It nears the tree.
Getting close it can hear them.
Silent weeps of many.
Their cries choking on one another.
"Why do you weep so?"
The machine immediately gets a dozen responses.
Each different in their words.
Yet all similar in a single way.
The want to be seen.
The limbs begin to bleed once more.
Writhing quickens.
"Creature of wires and bolts, why does god hate us, why were we born to be unseen, unheard, and hated? To live life in such difficulty and pain? Is our life just suffering and ache?"
The machine simply stands idly.
it's response forming;
"I do not know, yet your struggle is visible, and I see it clearly."
The voices of the tree quiet.
Blood no longer seeps.
The writhing quiets to a slow shuffle.
"That's more than enough."
The tree's leaves soon form once again.
Instead of pale white, a light green grows.
Limbs once holding nothing now hold onto small petals.
Their voice heard.
Even if unknown how to truly help.
Just hearing their voice.
Helps the tiniest bit.
And so the machine knows what to do at this moment.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
It goes up the ramp once again.
The machine once more witnesses the events unfurling.
Trees writhing in agony, calling for anyone to see them.
Yet the creatures remain blind.
Refusing to see what's in front of them.
The machine goes up to a tree.
Getting close it attempts to listen.
Their cries silent yet loud enough to hear.
Yet even with just listening.
It is not enough.
For far too long they have been ignored.
One tree of a billion.
One machine listening may help.
But it will not fix the problem.
Their cries will not be fully heard.
Something drastic will have to be done.
And so the machine goes to the creatures.
Their lanky bodies shuffling one after another.
A dance of steps along the forest.
One is pushed from the path by the machine.
The lack of facial features once again putting the machine off.
"Do you not dare witness what's around you?"
The machine asks, yet the response it hears is hurtful.
"There is nothing wrong, I am innocent."
The creature moves from its place.
Going once more into the waltz of steps.
The machine once again finds defeat.
Even if it is not blind, those around it are.
A constant refusal to view reality.
In defeat, the machine leaves the forest.
Heading down the ramp the machine lies next to the tree.
"oh creature of wires and bolts, for what reason do you remain here in defeat."
The machine speaks back to the tree.
Its voice in failure.
"their refusal is constant, their beliefs stuck on about being innocent."
"No person is innocent, there is always one who truly isn't blind."
The machine upon hearing this has a realization.
A creature of flesh.
One that is not blind.
Who does not hide behind a facade of inaction.
One who has attempted to help.
Perhaps if one can change, the rest will follow.
And so the machine with a newfound energy.
Began to move once again.
It goes through the bottom door.
The long halls call upon the name of the machine.
It goes through every room.
Now pitch black, no specks of white could be seen
the once clean slate of the walls brutalized in black.
Eventually, the machine finds itself in the carving room.
The broken pieces of stone remain.
The sign still reading guilty.
Splotches of black still expanding.
Yet the vastness of white remains.
In the corner of the room sits a white creature.
It stares at the ceiling.
An understanding that it may not be so pure as once believed.
The machine slows down its chase.
"Why do you continue chasing your quest, machine."
"because it is my purpose"
"How are you less blind than I?"
"That I do not know, perhaps you already have the answer."
The creature looks at the machine.
It holds its hand out to tap it.
Feeling the slick metal of the machine.
Its exterior now slightly rusted.
Its gears breaking apart.
Yet the machine remains steady in its journey.
Why can he not be like it?
How does mechanical parts see more than it?
"Perhaps, I am not guiltless."
