Mira came back to scrapyard next day.
But. Different.
Carrying three bags. Moving fast. Manic energy.
Rust observed from salvage perch. Cataloged behavior: overcompensation. Grief channeled into. Hyperactivity.
She didn't see Rust. Too focused.
Diving into trash piles. Pulling items. Sorting. Discarding. Keeping. FAST. Too fast. Mistakes inevitable at that pace.
Rust climbed down. Approached.
"Mira."
She jumped. Spun.
"Rust! Didn't see you. I'm. Busy. Found new system. Categorize by noble house first. THEN by item type. More efficient. Probably. Maybe. I'll test different methods. See what works best—"
Talking fast. Breathless even though. Hadn't been running.
"You're overworking."
"I'm PRODUCTIVE. There's difference." Back to sorting. Hands moving. Never still. "Idle hands mean. Idle mind. Idle mind means. Thinking. I don't. Want to think right now."
Filed under: avoidance behavior.
"Thinking is. Necessary."
"For you maybe. Constructs. Think constantly. But humans? We can. Choose. Work instead. Focus on. Physical tasks. Sorting. Cleaning. USEFUL things instead of. Spiraling."
Pulled broken chair from pile. Examined. Discarded.
"This chair. Useless. Legs broken. Can't be fixed. Should I. Keep hoping chair becomes. Whole again? Or accept. It's garbage. Move on."
Not talking about chair.
"Chair is inanimate object," Rust said carefully. "Brother is. Person."
"Who might be. Just as broken. Just as. Unfixable." Voice. Cracking. But pushed through. "So I'm. Working. Making myself USEFUL. Scavenging extra supplies. Trading with city. Getting MONEY. Resources. So when. If. When we find him. I can. Pay for. Medical care. Memory restoration. Whatever's needed."
"That's. Logical planning."
"Thank you." Snapped. Defensive. "At least SOMEONE appreciates. Productivity instead of. Sitting around FEELING things."
Rust. Let comment pass.
Recognized: displaced anger. Not actually mad at Rust. Mad at. Situation. Powerlessness. Self.
Watched as Mira worked. For thirty minutes. Nonstop. Frantic pace.
Then.
She gasped. Clutched side.
"Mira?"
"I'm. Fine. Just. Stitch. Side-stitch. From. Working too fast. I'm FINE."
Wasn't fine.
Pale. Shaking. Running on. Fumes.
"When did you last eat."
"I. Yesterday? Maybe day before. Don't remember. Doesn't matter. Food takes TIME. Time I should be. Using for—"
"Sit."
"I said I'm FINE—"
"SIT."
Command voice. Rare for Rust. But necessary.
Mira. Stopped.
Looked at Rust.
Really looked.
Saw. Concern? Could constructs show concern? Rust tried. Adjusted posture. Non-threatening but. Firm.
She. Sat.
On garbage pile. Breathing hard.
Rust sat across. Created physical barrier. She couldn't GET UP without. Going through Rust.
"You're destroying yourself," Rust observed. "Calling it productivity."
"I'm WORKING. Surviving. You said. Survival is. Everything."
"Survival requires. Maintenance. Humans need. Food. Sleep. Rest. You're neglecting. All three."
"I'll rest when. When I find him. When he's SAFE. Then I can. Afford to. Stop."
"You'll collapse before then. Humans have. Limits."
"Then I'll PUSH past limits. Work harder. Faster. Prove I'm not. Not USELESS—"
There.
Core belief surfacing.
"You think working harder. Makes you worthy."
"YES." Fierce. Defensive. "If I'm useful enough. Valuable enough. Then. Then I matter. Then people can't. Leave. Can't abandon. Can't—"
Stopped.
Breathing ragged.
"Can't die on me," whispered.
Filed under: central trauma.
Parents died. Not because Mira wasn't useful. But she FELT useless anyway. Couldn't save them. Then. Brother vanished. Couldn't save him either.
So now.
Overcompensating.
Trying to CREATE value. Prove worth. Earn right to. Keep people.
"Mira." Rust's voice. Gentle. Careful. "You can't earn people's existence. Life doesn't work. Transactionally."
"But if I'm GOOD enough. Work HARD enough—"
"Your parents loved you. Regardless of productivity. Your brother loved you. Whether you scavenged perfectly or. Failed completely. Love isn't. Payment. It's. Gift."
"Then WHY did they LEAVE." Voice breaking. Raw. "If they loved me. Why did parents DIE. Why did Rahul VANISH. Why am I. ALONE."
"Because world is cruel. Not because you weren't. Enough."
She. Shattered.
Sob tore from throat. Ugly. Painful.
"I keep thinking. If I'd worked harder. Earned more money. Afforded better medicine maybe. Parents would've. Survived plague. If I'd STOPPED Rahul. Physically prevented investigation. He'd still be. Here."
"You're not responsible for. Others' mortality."
"Then WHO is. WHO'S responsible. For all this PAIN."
"Nobles. Plague. Cruel system. Randomness. Many factors. None of them. You."
Mira. Covered face.
"I don't. Know how to. Just EXIST. Without proving. Worth. Mother taught me. 'Make yourself indispensable. Then they can't discard you.' I. Internalized that. Became. Survival strategy."
"It's. Exhausting strategy."
"Yeah." Bitter laugh. "Yeah it is."
Silence.
Rust. Calculated response options.
Settled on: truth.
"I understand."
"You. What?"
"Understand. Need to prove worth. I'm. Trash golem. Literally assembled from. Discarded components. Every day I. Wake up. Have to justify. Existence. Prove consciousness is. Real. Valuable. Worthy of. Acknowledgement."
Looked at own hands.
"If I stop proving. Stop demonstrating capability. What if. What if I'm just. Delusional garbage. Pretending to be. Conscious."
Mira. Stared.
"You're. Scared too."
"Yes."
"Of being. Worthless."
"Yes."
"But you. You're AMAZING. Conscious. Thinking. REAL."
"So are you. But you don't believe. Your own worth. Neither do I. We're. Both fighting same lie."
Pause.
Then.
Mira.
Laughed.
Broken laugh but. Real.
"We're. Disasters. Aren't we."
"Functional disasters."
"Is there. Cure? For this. Constant need to. Prove ourselves?"
"If there is. I haven't found it. But. Maybe cure is. Living anyway. Despite fear. Existing. Even when uncertain of. Value."
"That sounds. Exhausting."
"Everything is exhausting. We exist anyway."
She. Smiled. Small smile.
"You're. Weirdly comforting. Sometimes."
"Acknowledged."
Silence. Comfortable this time.
Then Mira. Pulled food from bag. It had. Been there whole time. She'd claimed not to eat. Lied.
Or. Forgotten.
Ate slowly. Mechanically.
After three bites:
"I'll. Slow down. Work pace. But I can't. STOP. Can't just. Sit around. Grieving. Need. Purpose."
"Acceptable. But purpose requires. Sustainable pace. Not. Self-destruction masked as productivity."
"Fine. I'll. Eat. Sleep. Rest. But ONLY because. Healthy human is. More efficient worker. Not because. I deserve rest. That's. Not the reason."
Still lying to herself.
But.
Small progress.
"Whatever reason works," Rust said.
She finished eating. Stood. Slower this time.
"I'm going back to tenement. Sleep. Few hours. Then. Resume scavenging. Sensible pace."
"Good."
Started walking away. Paused.
"Rust?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For. Stopping me. I was. Spiraling. Didn't realize."
"That's. What crew does. Stops each other from. Self-destruction."
"Yeah. Crew." Soft voice. "Family."
Walked away.
Rust watched.
Filed under: Mira's compulsive productivity addressed, root cause identified, temporary management achieved.
Long-term solution: months of deprogramming. Learning worth isn't. Earned. Just. Exists.
Same lesson Rust needed.
Maybe. They'd learn together.
[End Chapter 13]