Strawberry's Descent

The golem, Garry, as Arista had unilaterally decided to call him from that point forward, with no objection registered, permitted the crew to explore the city freely, on one clear, unambiguous condition.

"Do not reduce the city's operational efficiency," he said, gesturing toward the wider districts beyond the gate. "Observation is permitted. Interference is not, unless invited."

"Understood," Arista said, already itching to start walking. "We'll be good guests."

They made it barely three streets in before that promise was tested.

A golem stood beside one of the district's smaller forge-vents, face pressed directly into the open flame, holding what looked like a half-melted curl of wire against its upper lip with grim, focused determination.

"...Is that—" Bram started.

"That's a mustache," Colm confirmed, staring. "He's welding a mustache onto his own face. By holding his face in a fire."

The golem noticed their attention and straightened, wire mustache now fused unevenly across his upper facial plating, slightly crooked, one end considerably longer than the other.

[Player: Steelbeard_420]

"...New race just dropped," the golem, clearly a player, not a native NPC, said cheerfully, entirely unbothered by the smoking scorch marks now decorating his jaw. "Figured if I'm playing a robot guy, I need a mustache. Real efficient dwarf-golem hybrid vibes."

Garry, who had followed them at a polite distance to ensure no actual damage occurred to city infrastructure, turned his dish toward the scene with what could only be described as profound, silent disapproval.

"That action," he said, "served no rational function."

"It's drip, man." Steelbeard_420 adjusted the crooked mustache with visible pride. "Efficiency's cool and all but I wanted to look good doing it."

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"You have introduced a permanent asymmetric weld to primary facial structure for the sole purpose of aesthetic preference," Garry said, dish rotating slowly as if recalculating something. "This action required forge-vent occupancy time, wire material, and risk of structural damage to sensory components, none of which contributes to any measurable operational goal."

"...Yeah, that sounds about right, actually."

Arista, watching the exchange with open delight, leaned toward Bram. "...I think Garry's going to have a rough time now that this race is playable."

"I think Garry's going to have an aneurysm, if golems can have those."

Further down the same street, they passed a second player-golem attempting to weld a small pair of sunglasses directly onto his optical sensors, muttering happily to himself about "swag efficiency" while an NPC golem nearby watched with the exact same flat, patient disapproval Garry was currently radiating.

"Query," Garry said, addressing the sunglasses golem directly. "What operational advantage do darkened optical lenses provide within a city environment lacking excessive ambient light?"

"None, my guy," the player said cheerfully, adjusting the crooked, half-melted frames. "Looks sick though."

Garry's dish rotated toward Arista, and though his voice carried no more inflection than usual, something in the timing of the pause suggested genuine, weary recalculation.

"Your team," he said, "are allowed access to this settlement for eleven days." He took a beat "Since the newly arrived began entering this settlement, six units have welded non-functional cosmetic modifications to themselves. Two have attempted unauthorized modifications to city gear-ratio timing 'to see what would happen.' One attempted to disassemble a support pillar to determine, in their words, 'if it was actually load-bearing or just decorative.'"

"...Was it load-bearing?"

"Yes," Garry said, flatly. "The resulting repair consumed considerably more resources than the pillar's original construction."

Arista winced, genuinely sympathetic despite the comedy of it all. "...I promise we're not all like that."

"You attempted to request disassembly of my own structure within the first hour of meeting me," Garry pointed out.

"...Okay, fair, but I asked permission first, and I accepted your answer instead of just doing it anyway."

"This is true," Garry conceded, something that might have been the mechanical equivalent of grudging respect entering his tone. "You remain the most rationally behaved member of your species encountered thus far. The bar, admittedly, has not been set high."

Bram snorted. "...High praise."

"It was not intended as praise," Garry said. "It was intended as an accurate statistical observation."

"Sure it was," Arista said, grinning, already looking forward to whatever fresh chaos the next street corner would inevitably reveal.

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