Glyph's Tale


"For who can say he knows all life in its abundance? Only the Maker is privy to such a thing."
-King Jordan Acorn, 2690

No one knows exactly how it happened.
Some say it was the ambient power that flowed through the old fusion cores of the mangled robot bodies strew through the junk piles. Some say it was the acid rain that fell, mixing with the industrial waste and other disposed of chemicals. Some say it was a bolt of lightning in the storm.
But one thing was certain: Life was born in the junk piles outside of Mobitropolis that night.
The sky was cloudy and grey, shedding cold rain tears on the worn out city that slumped over filthy earth like a dying giant. The robot patrols were gone, leaving an eerie yet welcome silence. Only the hiss of the rain echoed out, mixed with peals of thunder or the soft groan of an old building, broken by years of war. Out in the junk piles the water ran through the various body parts of many robots who'd come and gone. Sadly enough, some had not started out as robots. They were destroyed Robians--roboticized Mobians--whose lifeless metal carcasses had been tossed out in piles like so much flotsam.
But something in that pile was stirring.
This time it wasn't rats--robotic or otherwise--or the brave group of freedom fighters looking for parts or some piece of technology that would give them an edge against their adversaries. Part of the pile itself was moving. An arm twitched. A cracked optic sensor began to glow with life.
Pieces of old robots began to sitck together into a makeshift body, a lump of parts with four limbs that ended in three digits. It attempted to move, clumsily, falling over and loosing parts with a clatter. It stopped and shivered, beginning to develop instincts, primal needs and sensations. Energy was needed. The air was cold. It was wet because of the rain.
Then it touched the core memory of a deceased Robian. It stopped and nearly fell over as the surge of information almost overwhelmed its primitive soul.
It was a male. Maleness was defined by his memory. His name was Marcus. He was a panther. He had lived and loved, fought and been roboticized and destroyed in the end. New things and sensations flowed into the junk pile life form; it savored them, learning and redefining its existence. Language. Coherent thought. Joy and Pain. Mother and Father. Eating and Drinking. The feel of the sun on your skin on a spring day. A cool breeze and the smell of roses in bloom. The sweet taste of the girl you love on your lips after you kiss her.
Another memory reached out to him. An elderly female rabbit, named Agatha. She'd lived to see her grandchildren. Femaleness was defined for the life form now. The pain of birth, the joy of a child in your arms. Festivals and traditions. Skills her youngsters had forsaken for easier technology. Religion.
Again, a memory reached out to him. A proud warrior, formerly a sargeant in the millitary. Tactics and stragey. Weapons and fightning skills. Protecting those you command. The feel of killing.
One by one, they pressed into its mind, forcibly, painfully, expanding his existance. Old and young, man and woman, warrior and peasant, artist and scientist, rich and poor, slave and free. Now they gave up even memories they hadn't recalled in life, forgotten things, and the life they lived in womb and egg, back to the formation of that first brain cell....
The souls and memories erupted in a cacaphoney of terror and agony--robotiziation. It overpowered the new being, and activating the vocal machinery he'd acquired, and the machinery of dozens of others around it, it screamed.
****
The sun began to rise, ruddy gold over the gleaming metal horizon. The rain had ceased, and somehow the city seemed just a bit cleaner for it.
Glyph is my name. I am Glyph.
The pile of rubble had now streamlined itself down to a humaniod frame. Old, damaged parts had been replaced with fresh. It still looked like a patchwork monstrosity, but now it was more mobile and agile. It had decided on a male shape, around mid twenties, and strong, but not rediculously powerful. His memories had told him that agility was more desirable than ponderous power.
Glyph decided to see how well he could perform physically. His memories indicated that he was in danger here from Robotnik, and he must be able to perform very well physically or else he would be killed. He lept up into the air and reached twenty feet before he started back down. But as he landed, his right leg broke off, due to lack of manueverability, and old metal.
This won't do. These body casings are only so manueverable. I need something to cover my inner workings that won't break or keep me from being flexible.
Glyph found stronger leg joints and reattached his limb.
I need skin.
With careful concentration, Glyph learned to extend his control over tiny metallic parts, fragments and shavings, layering them over his internal circuitry in a tight, smooth skin. He completed a series of jumps, rolls, acrobatics and martial arts manuevers. This new skin was highly effective, and with a few shifts, he could even change its color and patterning, or even its gender and weight.
To proctect his skin (Marcus had informed him this was helpful in a fight), Glyph fashioned arm and leg gauntlets, and a metal vest. Out of the back of his head, and down his spine, were black triangular sheathes, each storing a triangular razor blade. They mimiced the patterning of Sonic the Hedgehog, and Glyph found them stylish as well as functional. He shaped tall black pointed ears on the top of his head to match.
Glyph was partial to Marcus, whose memory he'd found first. He patterned himself after the panther, with a jet black hide that lightly echoed leopard spots in the sun, and a feline tail. Another memory, an artist, gave Glyph handsome neon orange cheetah markings around his eyes, and a matching stripe down each side of his torso, meeting at his groin and shaping his muscle structure. She also suggested a white silver streak down his neck and chest, and a matching muzzle. And for the finishing touch, blonde tufts of headfur that hung down around his face and indigo eyes. A cheetah suggested he reshape his legs to have elongated feet and digitgrade paws for greater speed. Glyph found the neccessary parts and remade his feet, and after testing them for speed, he discovered the cheetah was right.
Night was falling now; Glyph's exploits had taken up the whole day. His memories told him that it was even worse to be in Robotropolis at -night- than during the day, so he immediately set out to leave the city as quickly as possible, reaching his top speed quickly--two thirds of Sonic's fastest speed. It wasn't the best on the planet, but it was more than adequet, which satisfied Glyph. He wasn't out to top Sonic anyway.
The landscape flew by him, and soon he was out of the metal city and zooming through a wide meadow, with a forest up ahead. Some of his memories told him it was called the Great Forest, and the home of the secret city of Knothole, the base of the Freedom Fighters. He continued forward, pressed on by memories that wished to make their fates known to family and friends. The captain he'd absorbed spoke up first, directing him towards a small cottage on the edge of the forest, near a babbling brook that was no doubt some tributary of the Great River.
Glyph approached the door and knocked cautiously, wondering if anyone was home.
"Just a moment," came a male voice from inside.
The door opened and Glyph was greeted by a blue male fox. His headfur and bodyfur were greying with age; but he was still remarkably strong. His memory told him this was because he was a master blacksmith, who made swords even for King Acorn himself.
"Hello young man. What can I do for you?"
Glyph paused, listening to the memory of the fur that had lead him here. He agreed to let the captain have control for a moment.
"I have news for you about your brother, Darien," Glyph started.
The fox stood pale. "What about him?....Is he alive?"
Glyph began to change his appearance, shifting into a blue fox not unlike the one he was standing in front of. He was in full military dress, and in the prime of life.
"Randy?!" the blacksmith cried. "What happened to you??"
"I didn't make it Darien. Robotnik got me, and roboticized me. And in a raid on a factory, I was accidentally blown apart. I was laying there for a long time until I felt this new life force reach out to me. I helped him by giving him my memories so that he could live and learn. His name is Glyph, and he took me to see you one last time, to let you know what happened."
Darien fox wiped a few tears from his eyes. "I...I had a feeling that's what happened. After we got Mobitropolis back, I asked if they found you--but they couldn't find you anywhere."
Glyph and Randy were surprised--along with alot of the other memories. Mobitropolis was back in their hands! Robotnik was gone!
Glyph began to loose the fox shape as the Captain Randy Furlong began to disspate into the back of his mind, finally at peace.
"I'll see you when the Maker calls on you, Darien. Honor to your house and family."
Darien smiled sadly. "Honor to you, Randy. Godspeed."
Glyph was touched by the emotions he felt between the two, feeling the need to cry himself, but lacking the capacity.
"Thank you, Glyph, for bringing my brother home, and allowing him some peace. Come inside and stay the night, it's going to be rather nippy outside and the sun is almost gone from the horizon," Darien said warmly. Glyph stepped inside as the fox shut the door.
The cottage was cosy and simply decorated. Handmade wooden furniture sat in front of a warm fireplace, and the remains of a thick rich stew filled the air with a delicious smell. Glyph took a seat that was offered, remaining quiet.
"Would you like anything to eat or drink?" Darien asked the Glyph. Glyph had to think about this for a moment. "I don't think I need to. But thank you for offering."
"I take it you're robotic, then?" Darien asked, without a hint of condescention that some Mobians had in their voice for mecha.
Glyph nodded. "Something of a robot, I guess. I don't know for sure."
Darien smiled. "Well, I hope you find out some day. Do you need to sleep, or a source of power to regenerate from?"
Glyph shook his head. "No. The sunlight gives me enough power for what I need."
Darien nodded. He yawned. "Well, I am not blessed as you are. I need to sleep. I will see you in the morning, Glyph." And with that, he headed up the stairs into the loft and settle down for sleep.
Glyph occupied himself by reading a few book that the blacksmith had in his home, and doing a few cleaning chores around the cottage. He felt that he needed to repay Darien for his trust and time. As dawn approached, Glyph even cooked a breakfast for him, remembering Darien's favorite recipe (thanks to Randy). Darien was pleasantly surprised to be greeted with the tasty repast.
"You really do have Randy's memories. Only he and my mother knew this recipe, and my mother has long since gone to meet the Maker," Darien smiled. Glyph cleared the table with a smile, and did the morning dishes, feeling very good inside because of what he'd done for Darien.
But soon Glyph felt other memories tugging at him, wanting to meet with their families, and he knew he'd have to leave soon. Darien noticed the wistful look in his eye.
"You have others in there, don't you?" he asked as he pounded and shaped a pruning hook for hs orchard.
Glyph nodded. "They want me to go meet their families, to let them know what happened to them."
Darien nodded. "Then you'de better get going soon. But before you go..." Darien went to the mantleplace and took two black metal cylinders down from their place on the wall. He handed them to Glyph. "These are twin swords that I had made for my brother. Since he is a part of you know, I want you to have them. You'll need protection, as there are still many dangers out there in the world."
Glyph was surprized. He noticed the almost invisible seam near the end of one, and pulled on it; it separated from the sheath and revealed a fine katana blade, with the traditional mare-ba curved tip.
"It's been folded one hundred and fifty times. It's one of my best. Use it well Glyph," Darien smiled.
Glyph responded to some of his memories' ideas and hugged Darien. "Thank you, Sir. Both I and your brother thank you."
Darien's blue eyes twinkled, and a single tear trailed down his white muzzle. "No, Glyph. Thank you for bringing Randy home."
After exchanging a few goodbyes Glyph walked out of the door and began to walk to the forest. Darien opened the door and called out after him.
"If you ever need somewhere to go, remember this place! You are always welcome!"
"I will!" Glyph called back as he hit top speed and dashed into the Great Forest, to set to rest all the others...

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GLYPH'S TALE