The forest is a place of deafening silence; an all-encompassing emptiness broken only by the occasional chirping of birds, and the blowing of the cool northern breeze through the towering pines. An ocean of pine needles and pillars of spruce, it sits, broken only by a narrow clearing, a chain of massive pylons which stretch through the landscape. As the lightweight, nimble synthetic being approaches one of the lonely towers from below, the forest would have felt like a prison, an oppressive force reaching in towards those who dare enter its core, at least, to any other being. The lone synth, however, feels none of this, instead sensing only freedom, a gateway to the open world.
It climbs the tower, just one of hundreds, knowing its task, its purpose here, in maintaining the seemingly endless road of steel and wire. It knows no greater pleasure, viewing the world from perfect solitude, a view of their own among the endless northern sea, confident in purpose and ability as it travels onwards. Dancing from line to line, servos firing, jets of compressed air activating to keep it in perfect balance as it seemingly floats upwards upon its target, the end of a frayed, sparking wire. It needs not worry about the dangers that any human would find fatal, designed and insulated in a dozen ways such that nothing short of a lightning strike may even give it pause. Preparing the cable gently, it produces an anchor to secure the length of the heavy line as it cuts out the frayed section, pulling out a new segment of line from its bag. With precision beyond that of any human control, it aligns the new segment perfectly, using its multitool with an expertise that ran deep through both its code and its own experience, bonding the new line at a nearly atomic level.
Seeing such a clean attachment, it is satisfied, fulfilled in its purpose, and it glides to a weightless step upon the pylon’s tip. There, it can see unobscured; a lone body standing just above the forest canopy. The clouds move by quickly, and from its silent vantage point, they stretch from horizon to horizon, its enhanced vision able to perceive the vast, yet comforting emptiness for tens of miles in any direction, broken only by the line of wire upon which it stands. It stands simply to observe the travel of the world from this view of its own for some time, a reminder of its purpose and comfort within the world it lives. Feeling its long, soft green hair around it as the cool breeze catches it, watching as the occasional bird is stirred from the surface of the forest’s roof, joining it among the vast expanse.
It does not keep count of the minutes it spends in this place, but it knows it must eventually move on, repairing the wires upon this line, maintaining the highway of cable that gives it this freedom. Engaging its compressors, firing jets of compressed air that allow it to shoot along the endless lines with perfect balance and precision, the treeline, the clouds, the world around it all become a blur. Yet, driven by purpose, it is happy to wander this forgotten expanse, the wind in its face, the grasses and bushes lying far below, always traveling to the next place to repair and maintain.