She smiles to herself when she realizes that the robot never protests, never questions, but also never understands. Still, that simple presence becomes comforting. It obeys basic commands like "walk," "stop," "follow me," or "turn," and Ba-Zi-Ha finds herself chuckling softly as she gives unnecessary orders just to break the silence.
"Dance!" she tries once, and of course, the robot remains still, as if the word has no meaning.
"Not ready for that yet, huh?" she jokes.
One morning—or what she calls morning, since time has lost all meaning there—Ba-Zi-Ha stops and watches her robotic companion.
"I wonder if you know how to use this?" She raises the weapon she always carries and looks directly at its "face." There is no reaction, just the sound of gears as it adjusts its head, as if observing her patiently.
Over time, Ba-Zi-Ha begins to realize that the robot, though limited and rudimentary, has become the companion she so desperately needed. Her mood improves, and the long moments of silence are filled with her words. She talks to it as if it were a friend, telling imaginary stories about what might have happened to the world, her fears, and even small dreams.
With every pause, the robot simply tilts its head, emitting that characteristic mechanical sound, and its firm, heavy steps continue to follow her every command.
Not wasting any time, she decides to train it. She picks up a rusty object and places it on a rock a few meters away.
"Alright, big guy, pay attention. This is a weapon. You hold it like this and... BOOM." She fires, hitting the object dead center.
"Now it's your turn."
She places the weapon in the robot's cold hands, and it obediently grips it with awkward rigidity. The first shot misses completely, barely hitting the ground ahead. She sighs and lightly taps its helmet, as if scolding a child.
"Not like that, dummy. Slow, steady."
Hours pass, and her dedication grows as the robot improves, little by little. At first, every shot is way off, its movements uncoordinated. But over time, Ba-Zi-Ha begins to notice something strange: the robot learns. It adjusts.
With each attempt, it holds the weapon more precisely. Its shots, once wildly inaccurate, begin to inch closer to the target.
"You're getting good at this, huh?" She grins widely, almost forgetting the desolate world around her. Finally, a perfect shot rings out, the metallic echo filling the air. She throws her arms up in celebration.
"I knew you'd get it! Now, I need to give you a name... a name worthy of my battle companion."
She looks at it thoughtfully as the robot remains still, holding the weapon with its newfound skill. Its metallic expression doesn't change, but something about the way it "watches" her feels more focused, more present.
Ba-Zi-Ha crosses her arms, her gaze firm.
"I got it... but I'll think a little longer. I don't want to give you just any name."
Yes, I know! This robot's name will be Taratha Tag.
(That's its name because it makes a weird noise in its joints when walking or moving, like a tra-tra-tra-tra sound.)
Meanwhile, the robot remains in place, awaiting the next command. The sound of its gears turning still echoes, but now, to her, it almost seems... friendly.
When Ba-Zi-Ha and Taratha Tag enter the factory, the atmosphere is dark and dusty, with old robots abandoned on the floor.
The silence is broken by the sharp echo of Taratha Tag's footsteps and the soft *tra-tra-tra* of his joints. Ba-Zi-Ha grabs a flashlight, illuminating the walls, where corrosion stains and scattered components tell stories of decay.
Suddenly, a disturbing *zzzt-zzzt* noise echoes through the space.
Ba-Zi-Ha whispers,
"What is that...?"
Then, one of the old robots suddenly jerks upright, its eyes glowing with a dull red light. It moves with a strange stiffness, emitting distorted sounds.
As Ba-Zi-Ha notices beetles crawling out from its cracks, panic sets in.
"No way... But what crazy thing is this?
She fires her weapon at the robot, blasting apart sections of its torso, but the Corroders leap to another machine.
More robots begin to rise as the buzzing of the insects intensifies.
"Taratha Tag, help me! Get them out of the way!"
Taratha Tag responds in his metallic tone,
"Protect... this."
With increasing precision, he fires his weapon, taking down the corrupted robots one by one. Ba-Zi-Ha maneuvers between the machines, dodging attacks and stomping on the Corroders that scuttle across the floor.
"Aim for the head, Taratha Tag! They stop if you hit the core!"
The battle is intense, filled with the sound of gunfire and the sharp screeching of the Corroders.
(Corroders are mechano-organic creatures resembling beetles, with razor-sharp mandibles that secrete a corrosive acid capable of infiltrating and hijacking electronic circuits.
They reanimate dormant robots, making them act erratically, like possessed puppets. Corroders emit a high-pitched noise and a constant buzzing as they move, making their approach all the more terrifying.)
Amid the chaos, Tarata Tag proves his evolution, responding swiftly to commands and protecting Ba-Zi-Ha with his now finely tuned aim. When the battle finally ends, exhausted and breathless, Ba-Zi-Ha leans against a wall and looks at her companion.
"You're getting good at this... Taratha Tag."
He simply tilts his head with a soft *tra-tra-tra* sound.
This encounter makes one thing clear to Ba-Zi-Ha: the Corroders are a persistent and dangerous threat. From now on, she and Taratha Tag will have to stay prepared for any attack during their explorations.