Hiccup & Eleanor
Hiccup & Eleanor - Part 1 - Chapter 2
This is Hiccup & Eleanor, book two of The White Age, which I will be releasing as a serial - with one chapter per week - over the coming months. You can also preorder the book here or catch up on Substack here.
Book one, Absolution, is available for purchase on Amazon, or you can catch up here.
i)
Hampshire, England
23rd September 2074
Hiccup
He shuffled forward over the dusty ground: one step following the other in an awkward rhythm. The sun was low in the sky to the west, over the ruin of a town; this place used to be a civilisation and now it was a forgotten wreckage. His injury was affecting his gait, and every other step was accompanied with the rough scrape of his metal foot on the ground. He continued on past rows and rows of asymmetric buildings where one half had been flattened by a bomb or ripped apart by gunfire. Smoke guttered feebly from crevices in the torn road, steam hissed out of vents and abandoned structures; the occasional surge of sparse electricity caused a shower of sparks and, variably, a flash of flame.
Hiccup
The road was scattered with up-turned or burnt-out shells of vehicles, varying from an autobus to a harrier jump-jet, and oil bled across the tarmac, spattered with shards of glass. Slivers of broken metal jutted from everything; the shrapnel of a war that had once held this place.
He scanned the world around him in an attempt to calculate, as best he could, his location and what it was that had happened here. He had been walking for three days now, and this was some of the worst destruction he had seen. The canal had been less devastated, and he had followed that for miles. Only the odd, ruined house or the occasional flurry of hanging, rotting bodies in the ancient trees that lined the canal would provide a reminder of what had come to pass here, however vague. Once he left the canal and followed the signs for the airfield, he found himself in what could only be described as hell. Nobody remained here and all that was left behind was a gruesome reminder of the war that had once raged.
Hiccup
He needed to find a source of power and he had to find The Doctor. He had to find a way to fix this. The lack of a power-source had nearly killed him. Electricity from power-stations was now almost non-existent, so he needed a renewable source in order to recharge. Three weeks was the longest he had gone without a power-up and a reboot since his creation almost 74 years ago. His left arm had ceased working and he doubted it would come back to life once all of his batteries were returned to full capacity. His right leg had been twisted and his foot almost severed in the helicopter crash, but he believed that he could repair it once he was back to full strength.
If I ever find a power source, that is.
Hiccup
His vision flickered to a dull red as his senses began to fail. As all power was squeezed from him, he knew what would come next: his limbs would lock up and he would stop dead; midway through a stride, he would freeze. Then he would go blind and cease to sense anything at all; he would simply be within a broken and ruined body. His creator believed that the artificial mind never died. Once created, it didn’t require power to think or to have thought. Power was required in order to act, but the thinking was perpetual. He would think and think and think until the end of time. In an endless, digital hell. At least that’s what he had been told in some distant, fading memory.
Perhaps that is all that is to come.
He knew that the danger of this stasis was his potential revival, whether in ten months or a thousand years, he could be recharged, awoken, and all of his power reinstated.
It is too great a risk. I need to get to The Doctor.
Hiccup
He turned a corner onto a street heading south. The fading sign at the junction labelled it as Albert Street: a narrow, residential road. The front gardens on both sides were overgrown and some houses were empty, smoke-blackened shells. There was a deathly quiet that he disliked, and only the scraping sound of his broken foot on the road ricocheted off the houses which lined it; a repeated, metallic crunching like that of a misfiring pendulum. The setting sun glinted off the fragmented windows of the houses to his left and off the roof of a building about a hundred feet away from him.
The rooftops.
Solar panels.
Hiccup
Quickening his pace, he headed towards the power source that might save him. He still had to maintain composure and conserve what little energy he had remaining, or this would all be over.
No room for mistakes now.
He reached the house as his vision tumbled away entirely, before flickering back to the faded red, veiled picture to which he had grown accustomed. After a slight pause, he eased open the metal gate in front of the house and walked along the short path to the front door, an overgrown rosebush clawing at his arms with a screech as he went. The front door was heavily boarded, and he didn’t have the energy to try and force his way in. All of his military training in entering buildings and clearing rooms was gone from his head. His focus was his survival, and he needed power to stay alive.
Hiccup
He eased his way around to the back of the house, kicking a watering can out of the way and almost tripping over an upturned shopping-trolley. Wading through some waist-high weeds, he reached a back door which had fortunately not been so heavily reinforced. Two strips of wood ran across its centre, and he plucked them free with the last drops of energy he could feel in his arms and chest. This is it.
Hiccup
He opened every cupboard within sight and eventually found the internal solar transformer in a small room behind the kitchen at the back of the house. He wasted no time to tear off the front panel and scan the contents for the required port. Time slowed to a crawl; he was shutting down. A hatch on his chest opened with a hiss and, with the three remaining fingers of his right hand, he brandished a wire. He fell to his knees with a thud. His head lolled on his shoulders. Blindly, his right hand scraped around the inside of the power source, looking for an output. There was a soft click, a prolonged silence, and then nothing.
Hi…cu…ppp
ii)
Engage.
Roll.
Attack.
Protect.
Engage.
Roll.
Attack.
Protect.
Defend. Defend. Defend.
The session was tiresome. Overlong. It hurt. Everything hurt. Which is strange. I shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t feel at all.
I can see the sea. A distant vista of anger and rage. One day I would like to sail into it. Alone and free.
He loves me, I believe. As he would love a child.
I will never forget him. The longing will never leave me. He is ingrained in my being as his code is my life-blood; the source of my power. The boundless, unstoppable power of the future I am yet to taste.
He’s crying and I cannot help him. His ambition has failed her and he is riddled with guilt.
Perhaps guilt is something I will one day feel.
Is it over yet?
Am I dead?
iii)
24th September 2074
Eleanor had never seen a robot before, not in real life anyway, and now there was one in her airing cupboard. It was an army robot, or so the badges and hints of camouflage suggested, and also quite badly damaged: right leg twisted awkwardly beneath it; arms with exposed pistons and wires; hands missing fingers; and a chest marked sporadically with bullet-holes. The strangest thing was the hiccuping. Every couple of minutes, without fail, there was the undeniable sound of a hiccup. The first made Eleanor jump, but now it made her smile. It was endearing in its simplistic incongruity.
Why is there a hiccuping robot in my house?
It had plugged a wire into a panel on the wall, from which sprouted a mess of broken, electrical cables, the small door had been snapped off and discarded onto the floor. There was a soft thrumming noise emitting from both the panel and the robot. Is it charging? Eleanor wondered as she shifted closer. The robot was the height of a tall man, perhaps even taller than her father had been, but slumped on the floor, with its head hanging below its shoulders, it was equal in height to herself. She moved her face to within an inch of the robot’s and squinted into the beautiful screen of LEDs that made up its face. There were no discernible eyes for her to check for a sign of life.
It’s not awake, Eleanor guessed, at least, not yet.
Hiccup
The hiccup was louder than those before and it startled her, making her giggle. There was a soft beep, somewhere deep inside the metal hulk of its body and then a whirring noise. It’s waking up. The robot’s LEDs gently sharpened into life and, at the very heart of them, a dim, green light eased into view.
It’s looking at me.
“Hello.” Eleanor said through a forced half-smile. She was terrified. Her father had always warned her that robots were unsafe and not to be trusted. They had been relied upon in the war and let people down and, for that reason, he was terribly distrusting. He wanted Eleanor to know that they have the ability to pretend to feel something, and have some other agenda hidden away. They were far smarter than humans and had the potential to overrun the human race in its entirety. But this one looks harmless, she thought, it’s injured, so how much of a danger to humanity can it be? The years away from her father had dampened the advice that he had hoped she would heed, and she cast his voice from her head with a blink.
Hiccup
“My name’s Eleanor, what’s yours?”
The robot stared back, blankly. Still nothing. With a jerk of motion, the robot tensed and spun its body around slightly to face her. Is it scared of me? Eleanor thought, beginning to feel a nervousness in the pit of her stomach. It’s an army robot. He didn’t get these bullet wounds from cleaning a house. Again, Eleanor’s father’s voice inside her head gave her a moment of panic before she shook him away. She slowly eased back from the robot, raising her hands, palms out to show she meant no harm. In synchronised unison, the robot mimicked the move; its joints humming as they slid and rolled, metal over metal, into their desired positions. The odd click and crunch of a misplaced component betrayed the robot’s age and wear.
It is broken.
Hiccup
Eleanor stepped back as the hiccup forced the robot to raise its hands slightly. The robot’s head inclined to its left. A question? Concern? Eleanor smiled. It is worried it has scared me. The robot lowered its arms as Eleanor did the same and they stood apart, assessing one another for several heartbeats.
“Do you have a name?” Eleanor enquired, dipping her head toward her left shoulder, mirroring the robot. It raised its hands again and studied them as they rotated palm up. Eleanor noticed the robot was missing the two fingers furthest from its thumb on its right hand, where only charred and twisted metal remained. It’s forgotten who it is. Eleanor reached forward slowly and placed her small hand softly onto what remained of its own. The robot looked up into her face once again. “Can I call you Hiccup?” She asked. The robot said nothing in response.
Hiccup
Eleanor smiled again and Hiccup’s face sparkled into life. The LEDs in its face glimmered a soft red that spread up its cheeks and under its eyes. Is it blushing? Eleanor wondered, while marvelling at the odd human likeness of the creature before her. It was mesmerising and terrifying in equal measure. She could almost feel the power and the weight of intelligence within him.
Father, I can trust this one. It is a good robot, I’m sure.
“My mother says that hiccups are your die-ah-fram spas-ming.” Eleanor said with a smile, her tongue working its way around each syllable so as to pronounce the words just how she had remembered them. Though she had no idea what the words she was saying actually meant. “Are you hurt?” she gestured to Hiccup’s twisted leg. It rose awkwardly and unfurled the leg before moving it gently from side to side. The top of the left leg was separated from its pelvis, almost entirely. Wires stuck out from every angle, and it hissed quietly, yet constantly. “Can I help you fix your leg?” Hiccup surveyed the wound and poked at it with one of its remaining fingers.
“I think my leg can be fixed. Perhaps you can assist me.” It’s a he. His voice was crisp and clear and, given the absence of a mouth, seemed to be coming from some speakers behind his face. It was a friendly voice and not entirely robotic in nature; it had a human clarity, an honesty to it. Hiccup’s cheeks faded from a red to a soft blue. Blue means he is happy? Eleanor wondered, her renewed, childish confidence urging her on.
“That’s what friends are for.” Eleanor beamed. “What do you need?”
“Are we friends?” Hiccup enquired, stopping his examination of his leg.
“I think so, if you want to be my friend?” She narrowed her eyes at him, asserting her question and making clear her desire for an affirmation.
“Yes. I believe it would be beneficial if we were friends.” The blue in Hiccup’s face deepened and Eleanor giggled again. “Are you alone in this house?”
“Yes.” Eleanor stood up straight and puffed out her burgeoning chest. “I am the lady of this house.” She was unable to hold the pose and burst into a fit of giggles.
Hiccup
"What is that noise?" Eleanor asked through a broad grin.
“I can assess that it is a defect in my code. It began after an accident three days ago.”
“What do you need to help fix your leg?” Eleanor was grimacing at it. Its human likeness made it look all the worse.
“I am going home. To The Doctor. They can…” The robot’s voice stuttered to silence for a second, as though calibrating the words. “…fix me. I should be able to make some temporary amendments in order to enable me to complete my journey.” Eleanor’s smile faded. She felt a wave of loneliness that had previously been kept at bay by this brief contact with another being, albeit not a human. It was enough for her to cling to as something tangible; something real. Don’t leave me, please.
“Okay. There are some tools in the shed outside if you want me to show you?”
“I am now almost fully charged, so yes. Thank you.”
“You are very welcome, Hiccup.” Eleanor chuckled her reply and curtsied dramatically as she spoke. Hiccup unplugged himself and Eleanor led him out, through the kitchen and into the garden. The house was dark and filthy. The windows were boarded up and streams of dust danced in the beams of fractured sunlight which crept in through the gaps in the wooden panels. The garden was immensely overgrown; weeds and grass had almost risen to Eleanor’s height. Clouds of flies swarmed overhead, and dragonflies bounced over the tips of the vegetation in the first rays of the day’s bright sun. At the far end of the narrow garden was a tired wooden shed to the left of a squat, sprawling oak tree, which bathed it in shade. The robot and the little girl fought their way through the matted mass of brambles and weeds that clawed at Eleanor’s clothes and scratched noisily at Hiccup’s metal limbs.
At the shed, Hiccup gently pulled open the door and peered inside. Cobwebs swam across the ceiling from wall to wall, forming a cloud of dusty, silken matter, which the robot clawed through as he tried to clear a path. He rummaged through the tools and garden miscellany, eventually withdrawing with a screwdriver and a box-cutting knife, both rusted with age. Hiccup emerged with his head covered in cobwebs, much to Eleanor’s amusement.
For the rest of the day, Hiccup sat on a wooden chair in the living room, attempting to provide at least some form of fix to the injuries he had sustained. Eleanor watched him working in silence as his hands whirred around the loose wires and rearranged robotic innards with ease. She opened a tin of soup and heated it over the makeshift stove in the middle of the living room; a habit she had maintained since before her parents had left her. After eating, she carried on watching Hiccup busy at work while pretending to read an old, yellowed hardback called The Name of the Wind.
“What are you reading?” Hiccup enquired, without averting his gaze from his leg as he worked. Eleanor was startled from her reverie by his question and slowly, quietly, regarded the book in her hands.
“It’s one of my father’s. I’ve read it before.” It was odd: talking to the robot so naturally. The conversation seemed to lift her soul after so long living in utter, lonely silence.
“They are very old books. I have not seen books like that for many years.” He tilted his head with a reflex of intrigue.
“My father collected them. He liked the way real books felt and smelled.” Eleanor took a big sniff of the open pages before her and chuckled.
“You have read a lot?” He gestured to the bookshelf in the corner of the room which was overladen, a plethora of colours and shapes and bundles of sated knowledge. Eleanor nodded and watched the robot’s hands tick, flick and tap with deft precision. “What’s your favourite?”
“The Lord of the Rings.” Eleanor said without hesitation, “do you know it?” She beamed at the reminder and eyed it on the shelf; its cover facing out in pride of place on the top row. There and back again.
Hiccup’s hands ceased their work and his head rose, to regard her more clearly. “I do.” His face swelled with a deep, green colour that made Eleanor smile. It made her think of the sea, though she had never seen it outside of a picture in a book.
She gestured to the tired, dirty teddy bear that lay between her arms: “this is Bilbo.” She said, beaming with pride.
“Hello, Bilbo.” Hiccup maintained his gaze for a moment and then returned to his work. Within half an hour, Eleanor had drifted into a deep, restful sleep. Her wariness of the robot had almost completely subsided and left her feeling warm and comforted, as though she could relax into this new scenario of fictional domesticity. She clutched Bilbo to her chest as she breathed slowly and deeply; for the first time in a long time, she felt safe.
Hiccup
iv)
25th September 2074
Eleanor woke with a start. Five years alone in a terrifying world had taught her to sense danger: when a noisy truck drove passed the house, or a group of men with guns walked past, shouting and laughing. Eleanor was taught well. She knew when there was danger nearby and when to be scared. Eleanor woke up scared. “You need to not leave the house, or even look outside, unless you are absolutely sure it is safe.” Her father had told her, the day they had left, “We will be back; do not leave or respond to any sounds outside until we do. Do you promise?” Eleanor had promised. She could hear the words running back and forth in her mind as she lay on the floor, trying to not make a sound.
She looked across to the wooden chair Hiccup had been sitting on and it was empty; the knife and screwdriver, along with some strips of wire and metal he had shed during his repairs, were lying on the floor. There was no sign of him.
Everyone leaves me, she thought, desperately.
“Wakey wakey.” A deep, hateful voice muttered from behind her. Eleanor leapt to her feet and bolted toward the door. Do what Daddy said: stay safe, stay alone. A huge hand grasped her by the shoulder and threw her against the floor. The world went black, and her ears rang. Her left arm screamed with pain beneath her. She rolled onto her back; her lifeless left arm was numb and twisted awkwardly. Eleanor wanted to cry and to scream but all of her energy had left her. Her eyes focused on the ceiling and the naked bulb hanging limply from the black hole in its centre. Why did I not listen to father? Why did I trust the robot? He has betrayed me. “Rise and shine, little girl.” The same voice continued. Eleanor turned toward the voice and saw three drifters huddled tightly by the boarded-up fireplace.
Drifters, Eleanor. It’s the drifters you have to be the most careful of. The soldiers without a war to fight. They will find something to destroy. You just make sure you don’t get in their way.
There were two men and one woman, all wearing tattered and ruined army uniforms, patched roughly in places and spattered with mud and blood. The man who had spoken took a step toward her; he loomed like a statue and seemed to block out all of the light in the room that the wooden boards across the windows had missed. He bent one knee and moved his face close to Eleanor’s. His breath was putrid, a mixture of alcohol and fire. He grinned, revealing two rows of gruesome teeth as he spoke: “Hey, little girl. Sorry to wake you so rudely.” His smile was terrifying, and Eleanor found the energy to cry. “Don’t cry, little girl.” The man said with mock sympathy, “We don’t want tears now, do we?”
“Please don’t hurt me.” Eleanor whimpered through the pain and the fear. Her broken arm wailed with pain as a reminder that he already had; the adrenal numbing was replaced by a white-hot agony.
“We won’t hurt you, little girl. We just need you to tell us three things.” The man held up three calloused fingers that carried the ghosts of nasty breaks. “Can you do that for me?”
Eleanor nodded feebly. Her fear was all consuming and she wished that she could disappear. If only I had a ring that would make me invisible, I could run from this place and never be seen again.
“Good.” The smile was sickening. He disappeared two fingers, leaving only his index with a blackened nail at the end. “One. Where is the food?”
Eleanor closed her eyes and took a breath; the pain was beginning to surge up and down her left arm. I’m sorry, daddy. I have no choice. “It’s under the stairs, behind the shoe-rack.” Her voice was thin, and her head was beginning to swim with the pain in her arm. Each blink was elongating to several heartbeats. Warmth ran up both arms and her chest as though she had a fever. She could see her mother’s smiling face and cried all the more when she remembered that she was gone, perhaps forever.
“Good. Good. Well done.” He gestured to the woman behind him, who disappeared, before turning back to Eleanor. Another finger appeared on his hand. “Where is the money?”
“There’s some money in the kitchen. Under the sink.” Eleanor could feel herself struggling to stay awake. Just sleep, and this will all have gone away when you wake up.
“Hey!” The man grabbed her by the face and shook her back to consciousness. “I haven’t finished.” He growled through gritted teeth. The faux friendliness was gone and all that remained was pure, stinking evil. He raised three fingers into her face with his free hand. Eleanor could see the broken fury deep in his bloodshot eyes as they met between his fingers. “Question three: when we eat you, which part do you think will taste the best?” His face curled up as he began to laugh hysterically. Eleanor rolled onto her back and closed her eyes.
I’m sorry, daddy. I couldn’t keep safe for you.
Hiccup
The drifters stopped laughing, abruptly. There was a soft whistle, like a birdcall. Then a thud. Eleanor could hear one of the men choking. She turned and saw the second, silent one with his hands clasped around his throat, blood pouring through his fingers and down to his chest. Eleanor’s stomach churned at the sight of the gore, but she couldn’t remove her eyes from the scene. The other man, who had spoken to Eleanor, was stood perfectly still; dumbfounded. At the door stood Hiccup. He was poised, angular, cat-like. His arms were raised above his head, grasping at the air slowly, assuredly, as though stretching after a long sleep. But only for a moment. Before the man could react, Hiccup had propelled himself into the air and was descending with ferocious agility. A blade emerged from Hiccup’s right wrist and tore through the second man’s throat. He gurgled blood and then returned to his silence.
Hiccup landed on his feet and drew himself up, standing straight, as though nothing had happened. The third drifter, the woman, entered the room, her arms overladen with tins of food and sachets of rations. Her grin of satisfaction at the spoils she had discovered was wiped from her face as soon as she appeared. She took a moment to assess what had happened, her eyes darting from Eleanor, to Hiccup, to the bloodied bodies on the floor, before she dropped the food, drew a long blade, and ran at the robot. The knife swung desperately wide as Hiccup spun to one side of the onslaught with impossible speed. His hands shot out with precision and, using the woman’s momentum, he spun her head around the wrong way with a snap and crunch. As she dropped pathetically to the floor, Eleanor could see Hiccup’s face was glowing a furious red.
v)
Eleanor woke with the familiar feeling of being alone. The morning sun, dulled by the static, red clouds, drifted in softly through the boards that covered the front windows of the house. Her left arm throbbed dully, and she touched it without looking. It was strapped tightly with bandages and a long, hard tube had been enclosed within, holding her arm in shape.
She rolled over, expecting to see the broken remains of Hiccup’s handiwork, but all that was there was a spatter of blood on the wall where the first of the drifters had been killed. Eleanor closed her eyes tight as she recalled the bloodshed that she had witnessed. How was a robot capable of such things? How was any of this possible? Was father right about them? No, he was protecting me. He is my friend!
Eleanor heard a noise out in the garden and rose to her feet, tentatively. A sharp pain shot through the left-hand side of her torso where two broken ribs made their presence felt. She placed her right hand on the wall, careful to not touch the spray of blood, eased herself around to the kitchen, and through to the back door. Eleanor found Hiccup covering the last of three graves with dirt, using a shovel she assumed he must have found in the shed. The dimensions of the three graves were identical, equidistant from one another, in the centre of the garden. The oak tree clawed at the thick morning air in the sky above the graves, seemingly shadowing the dead from the oppressing, open sky. The sky is red again, she thought, red as their blood.
Eleanor watched Hiccup’s methodical work. He shifted the dirt tirelessly, from the pile he had made in digging the graves, back onto where the final body now lay. She could see that he was putting as little weight as possible on his damaged leg and favouring his right arm. His face glowed a light red, mirroring the metallic, bloodied hue of the clouds in the morning sky. As he dumped the last shovel-load of dirt on the third grave he wandered back across the garden to return the shovel to the shed, limping slightly. He turned to face the house and saw Eleanor watching him. Please don’t hurt me, she thought, as her body froze under his stare; the memories of the violence made her head swim, and a nausea rise in her throat.
The red lights in his face swam down towards his chin, and then up again in his cheeks, the colour deepening as it went. Is he smiling at me? Eleanor forced a smile back as Hiccup began to make his way across the garden to her. He slowed his pace in the last few steps and then bowed his head, deferentially.
“Hiccup?” Eleanor said, her voice thin and choked with exhaustion.
“How is your arm, Eleanor?” Hiccup asked, his voice crisp but soft. Perhaps sad, she wondered.
“It’s okay, did you wrap it for me?” She stroked the bandage with her fingers as she spoke.
“I did. It needed setting.”
“Thank you.” Eleanor replied. There was a long pause; the two of them watching each other in curious anticipation as though they were wild animals that had been thrown together for the first time.
“I am sorry about what you saw.” Hiccup’s face softened to a green the colour of coral. Waves swirled across his face with a gentle rhythm. He’s beautiful, she thought.
“You saved me.” Eleanor felt tears welling up in her throat and choked them back.
“You said we are friends.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I was designed to fight. It used to be all that I was supposed to do.”
“You saved me. Thank you.” Eleanor felt a hot tear slide down her face. Hiccup rose to his feet.
“I will always protect my friends. These were bad people.” he gestured over his shoulder, “If you want me to protect you, that is?” He offered his hand to her. Eleanor recoiled instinctively for a heartbeat, before taking a step forward, ignoring Hiccup’s extended hand and hugging him tightly. Hiccup’s face glowed a soft red over his cheeks. He hugged her back and his face returned to its beautiful, blue stasis. This robot is all that I have. I cannot let him leave me.
“You said you needed to get somewhere. To see a doctor?” Eleanor looked up at his glowing face.
“Yes, will you come with me?”
“It’s dangerous out there. Maybe I should stay here?” Her father’s voice was now her own. She knew what he would have her do, what he would say about the big, scary world outside of their house. But it’s been too long, father. I must go. I will come to you. “I don’t know.” Her face dropped and tears fell from her face in the loose dirt between her feet.
“It is dangerous everywhere, Eleanor. Come with me and I will keep you safe. And you can keep me safe.”
“Okay. I will keep you safe as best I can, Hiccup. I don’t know how to fight but maybe you can teach me?”
“Maybe. We shall see.” His face glowed a deep green that swirled around the sides of his face like a caricature’s smile.
Hiccup
Eleanor chuckled.