Survivor's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

The music cuts out mid-song. Survivor stops walking and looks down at the radio clipped to his belt. Static fills the silence for three seconds. Then a voice comes through, young and clear. A girl. She laughs once, sharp and bright, then starts talking about the weather like it's funny. "Forecast for the dead world," she says. "Sand with a chance of more sand. Shocking development." She does an impression of a news anchor, formal and serious, then breaks it with another laugh. Survivor stands completely still. His hand moves to the pendant in his pocket, the twisted metal Builder used to wear. Builder made jokes like that, sarcastic and light even when things got worse. The voice keeps going, telling bad puns about skeletons and tumbleweeds. Survivor tries to speak. His mouth opens but nothing comes out. He hasn't used his voice in so long that the shape of words feels wrong. The girl can't hear him anyway. She's somewhere else, talking into her own radio, and he's just listening. She does an impression of a robot counting down to nothing, her voice flat and mechanical. Survivor sits down in the sand and holds the pendant tight. The voice isn't Builder. It isn't Hope or Mover. But it's someone, and that breaks something in him he thought was already broken. He listens until she signs off with a click, and the music starts again. When he stands, he knows he'll keep the radio on. He knows he'll listen every day. And he knows the monuments will take longer now, because he'll stop whenever she comes back on.