You wait.
Time passes; your internal clock was damaged by the fall, so long ago. You count the passage of time by the movement of the sun through the sky.
The human returns, eventually. They've brought tools, presumably to try and fix you.
You're not sure whether you should let them.
//(You're not sure you deserve to be fixed.)//
They're looking to you for guidance.
[[Direct them to the broken mobility cables. If they're going to stare, they should at least help you move again.]]
You do your best not to crush them with your errant movements. But the passage of nature and decay has chewed its way through many of your wires, and your body's responses are sluggish at best.
You twitch and jerk irritably as flares of pain spark in your systems. Alarms go off; you ignore them. The stoic silence apparently convinces this human to keep working, too.
You wonder if they see you as some kind of pet project. Maybe something to be bought and sold. Who knows.
You don't want to ask.
//(Asking means you'll learn more about them. You've had enough of learning about humans. Transient. Fragile. Unreliable.
~~Capable of breaking what heart you have.~~)//
[[They talk anyway, though. Of their dreams. Their surprise and awe at finding you. Their life.]]
You stare at the sky with your flickering vision and ignore it. You push down the impulse to ask questions about them, to probe more.
//(Someone taught you to ask questions. Their legacy is still with you. You're not sure how much you like that.)//
The buzz and hum of electricity, the whine and creak of tools. The human works away at your cables for days on end. You remain sullenly silent.
[[It's days before the repairs, such as they are, are done. But you can move.]]
You stand up without a word, the human watching you anxiously, and the laughability of it strikes you without warning.
You're a machine without a pilot, damaged and broken still. Your weapons are in terrible shape. Your armor is shattered.
You were only ever good for fighting. Now you can't even do that.
You find a certain pointlessness in standing, and you sit again. The human fusses over you.
//"The repairs are fine."// Your voice is toneless, neutral. As it's supposed to be. //"Go home."//
What can this human give you, besides repairs - a waste of their effort and time? Everything you've had is lost. Everything familiar is gone.
You track the human's movements as they leave. You don't expect to see them again.
[[But you do. They come back.]]
They don't bring tools, or other people. Just themselves.
You talk to them occasionally. Usually telling them to leave. But they seem to want nothing more than to look at you.
You don't understand it
//(you do, you've seen that curiosity before)//
but you tolerate it
//(just like you did back then)//
since you can't do anything about it.
''STRUCTURAL STABILITY: 5%''