The snow laid heavy on the Nepalese mountains, but the sun… the sun was shining bright in the sky, shining through between the mountain tops to give the village below them a sliver of bright light. The air felt like a new breath of life. Crisp and fresh through your nose. Not that Zenyatta would know. He did not breathe like a human would, for he never was human to begin with. He was metal and circuits and still… he had no less a soul than a human would. Therefore he sat under a tree just at the outskirt of the village, counting every leaf that fell down. Zenyatta hummed a gentle tune, appreciating the simple beauty of this day.
Up, up and up, laid the monastery that he called, no- used to call home. Zenyatta had started to wander slowly back and forth to the monastery, for he could not completely leave, but he could not stay either. Zenyatta looked at it with lights turning blue. He could not leave yet… not yet… but he had too soon. His brother Mondatta and him was dancing to a tune he had never thought to dance to, the tune of disagreement. Zenyatta would not leave… yet. He would stay until one of them stumbled. Until the harsh tune played too loudly.
Zenyatta shook his head. No use in making the clear blue sky turn dark with clouds. He turned within but focused on the outside. He could hear children’s distant laughter as they played. He could hear the wind, gently caress anyone brave enough to notice. It was a beautiful day, a normal day… Until! Zenyatta spotted a man. Not someone from the village or monastery. Too lost, too different… maybe a visitor. Zenyatta had never spotted an omnic with that design. Green, grey and white melding together to give the appearance of a man. The man passed him without even looking at him, as if the world was not there, not real. Zenyatta tilted his head and rose from his seat. “Excuse me, do you need help?” He spoke, his gentle but firm voice carried forward by the wind. A simple question, yet a promise.
Not long after I moved to Fuzhou, Han Lei (my old classmate from Sichuan University, who also moved to Fuzhou a few years back) took me on a hike up to Fuzhou’s Gushan. Gushan is pretty big and there are many different ways to climb it. The dirt track we went up that day was very narrow, the vegetation overgrown to the point of almost completely blocking off the road ahead. I figure not many people know this road and it must see extremely few climbers/hikers. It was drizzling the whole time, but when we got to the mountain top village for lunch at Guling, maybe because of the added sense of achievement, the food seemed to taste that much better.
Today I went to a really small mountain top village and met a guy who invited me to help decorate the streets with dyed wood chippings for a festival thing they were having and despite the fact that I can’t speak much Italian and no one there could speak much English it was one of the best days of my life.