Rowa-2's Arc

Chapter 6 of 7

The wanderers stopped coming. Rowa-2 checked the lighthouse beacon each morning—the fire still burned bright and steady. The robot walked to the edge of the trading post and scanned the horizon. Empty desert stretched in every direction. No travelers appeared on the paths. The rooms in the inn sat unused. Dust settled on the cups under the green-barked tree. Rowa-2's processors ran through possible problems but found no clear answer. Days passed with no movement on the horizon. Rowa-2 walked between the empty buildings and realized the truth—the trading post had everything except reasons for wanderers to stay longer. They arrived, rested, and left quickly because nothing held their attention. The robot searched the salvage pile and found sheets of rusted silver metal. Rowa-2 hammered and bent the pieces into shapes that looked like desert cacti and flowers. The sculpture stood as tall as the robot's chest, with sharp edges that caught the sunlight. The robot carried it near the bonfire pavilion where travelers gathered. Moving water would make peaceful sounds here—something that might keep wanderers from leaving so fast. But the sculpture sat silent and still. No water flowed through it because the desert had none to spare. Rowa-2 stepped back and looked at the metal art, then at the empty pavilion beyond. The trading post needed more than decorations. It needed something the robot hadn't figured out yet. The Cacti-bar was losing the wanderers faster than it could welcome them, and Rowa-2 didn't know how to make them stay. Then two travelers arrived at sunset with angry faces. They stopped at the edge of the trading post and pointed at each other. One had promised to share supplies with the other but had taken everything during the night. They yelled across the sand while Rowa-2 watched. The robot tried to calm them, but both travelers grabbed their packs and left in opposite directions. Rowa-2 stood alone again and understood the real problem—wanderers didn't trust each other enough to build anything together here. The robot walked to the salvage pile and found old wood and metal pieces. Rowa-2 built two horses standing beside a water trough, their saddles empty and waiting. Desert plants grew around the base. The sculpture showed what could happen when travelers helped each other—or what was lost when promises broke. The robot placed it where arrivals would see it first. But the horses stood frozen and the trough held no water. The sculpture reminded everyone of failure instead of hope. The next morning brought worse news. The main well had run dry overnight. Rowa-2 pulled the bucket up three times and found only sand at the bottom. The robot's optical sensors dimmed as processors calculated how long the stored water would last. Two days, maybe three. Without water, the trading post would die completely. Rowa-2 searched the salvage pile until finding old metal framework and rusty panels. The robot worked through the day building a tall tower with a tank at the top. The water tower stood higher than the inn, designed to catch any rain and store backup supplies. But the desert sky showed no clouds. The tower stood empty and useless. Rowa-2 looked at the dry well, the silent sculptures, and the abandoned buildings. The trading post wasn't just losing wanderers anymore—it was failing at the one thing that mattered most. Every outcast needed water to survive, and Rowa-2 couldn't provide it. The robot had built a place for outcasts to find shelter, but shelter meant nothing without the basics to keep them alive.