Broken Things
#1 of Broken Things
A social outcast, a pariah, Sheppy lives by scavenging from rubbish dumps and other unsavory places. He fixes what he can, often finding broken and damaged things - using his knowledge to repair what he can - in turn - selling it where and when he can. When he finds a discarded Synth - he thinks he's truly put to the sword - can he repair that which is inherrantly broken?
Broken Things
Chapter One
© Cederwyn Whitefurr
22ndMarch, 2023
All Rights Reserved.
Sheppy was crouched over, on all fours - a most unnatural pose for an anthropomorphic king shepherd, as his black nostrils almost brushed the piles of refuse. His once beautiful fur was mangy - even falling out in patches and the smell - oh gods - the smell...
He knew it was wrong, oh so wrong, as he'd been kicked at, had humans throw sticks, bottles - even bricks - at him. Even anthropomorphic people derided and abused him for scavenging amongst the detritus and rotting food.
He'd learned to be more cautious, switching to a nocturnal predation of the dumps. It wasn't glorious, it was often futile and left him despondent - but sometimes, just sometimes, he'd find a discarded piece of machinery or something - anything - he could take back to his den and fix.
It never failed to shock him, just what his own people - and humans - threw away. Sure, most of it _was_garbage, literally, yet amongst the rubbish he did find treasures amongst the trash.
A single scent wafted through his mind - as it discarded the millions of other scents of rotting food and worse. It was a scent he'd not smelt in over two decades - a very distinctive chemical odour...
Silicone, very specific silicone...
His eyes widened, as he threw aside a tangle of wires and what he assumed was some old electronic - something- he couldn't work it out, as it'd been broken, twisted and run over by one of the compactors.
Digging down - literally - like a feral shepherd, his short, broken claws clattered on something hard. Scraping away more dirt and debris, he looked down at the muddy plating. Gently, he scooped away further dirt, revealing a pale blue silicon knee, then the leg - ending at a firm cloven hoof. Tracing it back, he followed the leg upwards, finding it was still attached to the shoulder and chest. With a wide-eyed look, Sheppy began enthusiastically throwing away rubbish as he worked to uncover the prize.
For an hour, he dug - at times with recklessness and other times, with care almost like an archaeologist exposing an ancient fossil. Finally, he gripped both forelegs at the ankle and then the hind legs and with a sharp pull, dislodged the deer-like object.
Landing on his rump, the deer laying on him, Sheppy grinned with that adorable lopsided smile his kind were known for. Brushing away a few more errant pieces of rubbish and dirt, he examined what he now knew for certain.
It was a synth...
Carefully, Sheppy checked it over. Three silicone hooves - one torn off at the ankle. Structurally, apart from deep scratches, broken polymer plates on the hips, shins and one on the neck, it seemed to be in modestly decent order.
A deer synth? Sheep's mind thought to itself.
He frowned, then one ear twitched and he slung the deactivated synth over his shoulder, before he crouch-ran, hearing the approaching night guard coming.
*
In his home - if it could be called that - a derelict apartment, Sheppy dumped the synth on a torn and dirty mattress.
"There's a good side of town - where people are wealthy, healthy and happy...you, and I? Well, we're on the side its furthermost from - then a whole block over from that..."
Sheppy sighed, as he banged his fist on the wall until the water pipe rattled and began to flow.
Taking a bucket that leaked more water than it could hold, Sheppy slumped down and picked up a rag. Wringing it out in the water, he began to wash the dirt and filth off the synth. Again, he rinsed the rag and resumed washing, rolling the synth over onto its back before his eyes widened and he giggled - he couldn't help himself...
"A_male_ deer synth?"
Sheppy shook his head. Someone had paid a lot for the synth to begin with. As he cleaned, he noticed a slight indentation in the cracked mid-back plate - almost, like...
"A saddle? You were some child's beloved companion, weren't you? You'd be ridden like a horse...well, a pony - before they all died out, centuries ago... You weren't cheap! Let alone the customisation you received to look - well - like that!"
Shaking his head again, Sheppy resumed cleaning. He looked over the damage he could see - much of it was cosmetic, and nothing a shepherd like him couldn't fix...
Checking the back of the neck, Sheppy's fingers walked their way up, dreading what he'd find. Carefully, he dug at the access plate, finding it stuck with crud. Taking a knife, he eased it under the plate and gently levered it a tiny bit, before moving it across and levering again. With a sudden click, the port opened. To his surprise, the activation switch, charging port and interface connector were surprisingly clean.
Almost lovingly, Sheppy pressed a leathery fingertip against the activation switch. There was a click and the synth gave a split-second twitch, before becoming inanimate again.
"Hmm," Sheppy muttered to himself. "I'm hoping you're just extremely low power - not completely broken... Now, lets...ah, there it is!"
Taking his rag, he spent fifteen minutes rubbing and washing the silver plate riveted into the back of the access plate. At last, letters and numbers appeared, and to his surprise, a child-like scrawl materialised with a name.
"Bucky."
*
Sheppy spent a week, scavenging and even when he could, stealing what he needed. He cobbled together a generator that coughed, sputtered and occasionally even sparked dangerously - fashioning a duct-tape covered charging connector to fit into the back of the Synth's head.
He'd found a discarded tub of silicone, with which he hand sculpted a replacement hoof. It wasn't even the same colour as the others, but it was functional and he used strong adhesive to bind it to the stump of the leg.
Cleaned up, the Synth wasn't factory perfect - but it was as clean as Sheppy could manage, given his limited equipment and ability. At last, the charging light went from amber to green and Sheppy pulled it out and shut off the generator.
Crossing his furred fingers on one paw, he touched the activation switch...
An electronic warble sounded, then a loud burst of static that made Sheppy yelp and cover his ears, wincing in pain. Frustrated, he smacked the synth on the back of the head with a paw, then the Synth glitched again and twitched, before its LED eyes flickered and went dark again.
"Mas..." Come the static filled noise from the vocoder. "...see..."
"Oh..." Sheppy muttered, then used the blunt knife to pop open the back of the deer's head. "Umm... is it.."
He poked around for a moment, his eyes squinted and a deep frown creasing his brow.
"Ah, here we..."
Splicing two wires together, the Synth squealed and a spark snapped, making Sheppy yelp and snatch his fingers away, putting them in his mouth and sucking them like a puppy.
To his pleasure, the Synth shuddered again and his LED eyes flickered on - and stayed on. With a disturbing scrape of plastoid, the Synth turned its head and looked at the shepherd, who sat back on his haunches.
For a few heartbeats, the Shepherd gazed into the electronic display port of the synth, who stared back. It's display showed no hint of its emotional state - it was almost like it'd locked up.
"Hello," Sheppy spoke quietly, then gave one of his lolling tongue grins.
For a few moments, the Synth continued to stare, before its display turned into a frown. "You are not my master..."
"I - " Sheppy began, then went silent. "No. I do not know who your master..."
Sheppy mentally sighed. He had some knowledge of just how smart Synth's were, this one... he had no idea.
"No, I'm not." Sheppy admitted. "I'm sorry, but I found you and repaired you as best I can. I know its not...perfect..."
For an indeterminate time, the Synth continued to frown, before it quivered and looked around, then back at the shepherd.
"This is not...home."
Again, Sheppy sighed, this time verbally and he shook his head. "No, again, I am sorry. You were - "
If it was at all possible, the deer synth hung his head, then a tear-like symbol appeared in his display, his ears rotating backwards.
"I'm broken...I was thrown away, my owner did not love me..."
Sheppy had no answer, his heart ached in his chest and he slung his arms around the synth, gently cradling it as he felt the synth quiver - almost like it was crying...
TO BE CONTINUED...