SCOUT’S PROMISE

WHEN SILAS POWERED up, Deacon was still in his chair, now whittling a stick with a pocket knife. He did not appear to be carving anything in particular. Just shaving away the time. The morning sun was beaming through the window and glistening off of the clean blade.

There was the familiar chime as Silas unfolded his legs to stand up. Deacon jumped in his seat, almost slicing his thumb as he grabbed for the edge of the desk to keep himself from falling.

“Jesus Christ!” he said, standing up himself. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” He dropped the half-sharpened stick and threw the knife in his pocket. “You all charged up now?”

Silas unplugged the wires from his chest. “Yes, I’m feeling much better.” He unclamped the ends from the battery and placed the wires in his bag. “You’re still here. I thought you would have left by now. Those men are not out there anymore.”

“Yeah, well I wanted to make sure you were okay. It’s not every day you come across a friendly clunker. Usually, whenever I see one of you guys, I’m looking down the barrel end of a gun. Clunkers can be dangerous if you aren’t careful.”

“What makes you think I’m not dangerous?”

“Please,” Deacon said, circling around. “Just look at yourself. There’s no way you were built for combat.”

“I was built for companionship,” Silas said, kneeling down to unscrew the head of the simmi he had drained.

“I hate to say it, but companionship’s a luxury that died a long time ago. It’s survival first.”

With all of the screws undone, Silas separated the simmi’s head from its body, placing it on the floor to his side.

“What I’m saying is,” Deacon continued, “clunkers like you won’t get very far if you stick to being friendly all the time. You got to look after yourself. Put everyone else second. They’ll all leave you dead in the dirt.”

Silas raised the screwdriver to his own neck and began to unscrew.

“Whoa!” Deacon said, reaching out to stop him. “What the hell are you doing?”

Silas pointed at his missing eye and torn up face. “My head is damaged. I’m replacing it.”

A look of awe crept onto Deacon’s face. “You can do that? You can just walk around willy-nilly without your head?”

“Yes. I won’t be able to see, hear, or speak, but yes.”

“How?”

Silas tapped his head. “Your brain is here, but mine is here.” He lowered his hand to his chest. “Right next to my battery.”

“You mean your chip.”

“Correct. That’s where my mind is stored.”

“And your battery is your heart in this metaphor?”

“You could say that,” he said, continuing to undo the screws.

“That’s smart. You only have to protect one place. Why couldn’t God be as smart as the guys at Limbys? If things were right in the world, I’d be able to pop off my head and stick on another, just like you.” He tugged on his head in a comical fashion. “Nope. It’s stuck on like a lid on a pickle jar. And if it does come off, pickle juice goes flying everywhere.”

“Not every part is compatible with mine. In fact, most of them are not. Luckily, this one isn’t military. It’s some sort of service simmi. Not quite the same as me, but it has similar parts.”

As Silas removed the last screw, Deacon stepped forward. “Do you need help there, buddy?”

“Yes, actually.” He separated his head from his neck and held it up to expose the wires. “I would like you to unplug these for me. There should be four wires. Like I said before, once they’re disconnected I won’t be able to see, hear, or speak. I will need you to connect that other head. The same four wires go into the same four slots. Once I can see again, I’ll do the rest.”

Deacon nodded with enthusiasm. “Got it. Four wires out, four wires in. Easy enough.” He widened his stance and raised his arms to grab the end of the first wire. “I’m ready when you are.”

Silas tilted his head down to look at the man he was trusting to replace his head. Letting a stranger perform such a task was something Silas had never done before. Deacon was a self-proclaimed thief, but he had already helped with the battery, and he had not yet stolen his duffel bag.

“Okay,” Silas said. “Go ahead. Disconnect them.”

His vision went black. His hearing cut out. He was now at the mercy of a total stranger. After a moment of pure nothingness, he felt the weight of his disconnected head being removed from his hands. Deacon replaced it with a smaller, denser head. There was another moment of nothingness and then…

“—plug this in here,” Deacon said. “Can you hear me, buddy?”

Silas tapped his finger twice to respond.

“Good. I had a feeling that one was your hearing. Three more to go and you’re good as new. This one should be your sight.”

A sea of colors filled Silas’s eyes. Still holding his head up high, he could see the top of Deacon’s greasy hair as he tinkered with the rest of the wires below.

“This one goes here,” Deacon said, plugging in the third wire.

Silas regained control of his face. He could look around without turning his head. He had control of his neck and antennas as well.

“And the final wire goes here,” Deacon said. He backed away and looked up at the new head. “How did I do?”

“You did well,” Silas said, testing his voice. He lowered his arms to place the head on his shoulders.

Deacon slapped his leg with excitement. “You have to admit, I’m pretty good at this stuff.”

“I was a little worried you would leave me headless.” Silas reached for the screwdriver and tightened the screws around his neck.

“You, my friend, have trust issues, which is probably a good thing. Trusting people will get you killed. Most of the time, at least. You got lucky with me.”

With his head fastened, Silas rolled it from side to side. “I appreciate your help, but I will be on my way now.” He threw the screwdriver into his bag and slung the strap over his shoulder. “Good luck.”

Deacon stepped in his way. “Wait. You said you’re going to New Valley?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“I can come with you.”

Silas stared at him with a puzzled curiosity. “Why?”

“No offense, but you’ll never make it there on your own. You can’t even shoot a gun, for Christ’s sake. I’ll be your personal bodyguard.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“New Valley is where Limbys is, right? I assume that’s why you’re going there.” He pointed to the Limbys Technologies logo on Silas’s chest. “To find other clunkers. Riley and the resistance are in New Valley. You know what that means, right?”

Silas shrugged.

“It means that’s where all of the good stuff is. Guns. Ammo. Joe says they even have generators.”

“It will be dangerous for you.”

“Not any more dangerous than it is for you. Hell, we’ll probably both be safer if we stick together. You can be our clunker diplomat, and I can shoot our way through if diplomacy fails.”

“I’m not much of a diplomat. They don’t really listen to me.”

Deacon shrugged. “Hey, we all have our flaws. Don’t beat yourself up about it. You can’t fight, and you can’t negotiate. My point is, you won’t last on your own. I’ve only known you for a few hours and I’ve already saved you twice. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

It was true, Silas was better off with a partner. The man had already proven himself twice. He had killed the men outside the church and had helped recharge his battery. Silas nodded. “Okay. You can come.”

“Great!” Deacon cheered. “Of course, I would have come even if you weren’t okay with it. It’s not like you could do anything about it. But this is a much better arrangement. Mutual cooperation is the best kind.” He stuck his hand out. “You already know my name, but what’s yours?”

Silas accepted his handshake. “My name is Silas.”

“Well, Silas, I solemnly swear to protect you from danger. Scout’s promise.”

Another chime rang.

“But before we go anywhere,” he tapped Silas’s chest, “we’re going to take care of your little oil situation. That noise is going to get us killed.”