CROWDANCE, by Gregory A. T. Morris

Wind whistled through the streets of Crowdance, brushing up dust and throwing it a few feet onwards to find a new home somewhere else. It was always dead quiet in town after the miners left, especially compared to the noise they brought with them. Every two weeks the mines on Big Thorn Mountain emptied out and all the miners came back into town whooping and hollering and kicking up a fuss. They spent so much time buried, plucking chunks of ore from near-inexhaustible seams, that when they got above ground they became different men. The town filled with movement and colour and men trying to pack as much action into as little time as possible to relieve the stress of their regular life. Sitting in the darkness hammering at rock with a bit of metal on a stick could do things to a droid, and seemed to do so with alarming frequency.

LEGACY OF LIFE, by Nick Westwood

Her vision cleared as if a dust cloud had begun to settle around her, and her neck ached as she turned her head to take in her surroundings. She was in a familiar room, though she couldn’t yet place the reason for its familiarity. The chair in which she sat was comfortable but worn, clearly very ancient indeed—as was the droid in the chair on the opposite side of the room. She stood carefully, as it seemed that every part of her ached, and floorboards creaked underfoot as she crossed the room.

She bent to quietly examine the old droid, thinking that he may have been asleep; but instead found no signs of life at all. Just then a thought struck her, and she quickly ran an internal self-diagnostic; the results showed that while her key systems were in good working order, her memory core regulator was in bad shape. At least it was nothing life-threatening, but she resolved to get it replaced as soon as possible. She turned back to the old droid, and wondered if want of a replacement system was what brought his life to an end.

CAYUSE, by Colleen Weare

‘By the Maker’s rusty cogs! It ain’t so bad around here that things can’t get worse!’

Josie removed her hat as she surveyed the smoking ruins of the homestead, sunlight glittering off the sculpted blued gunsteel covering her skull. Temporarily deprived of shade, her optical receptors had to quickly adjust to the harsh glare of the noonday sun. Slapping the dust from her hat, she plopped it back on her head.

Wreckers and renegades. Her horse Paint communicated via their wireless connection, lowering his head to sniff at the charred wreckage of the house. Cautiously he stepped over the rubble of the outer wall formed of stone and timber. It had been caved in by some powerful force, the mortar anchoring stone and old lumber had shattered like glass under the assault. Looks like they had at least two, maybe three heavy owlhoots with them. People didn’t stand a chance.

TOP NIGHT IN, by Jon Garrad

I walk into town on some road or another. I've no idea. It's been seven months and six days since I saw where I was going, since I looked up into the sun and decided I'd never see again. Since then... nothing. Just endless red during the day and endless black at night, the monochrome shades of vision circuits shot to cinders. I deserve it. I failed in my purpose, failed to stop a whole town up and leaving for a life of sin, debauchery and wicked distraction, failed to save the one pious soul therein from plunging into even greater apostasy by shutting herself down, and so I wander.

I wander, blind, from town to town, accepting what charity people give, delivering what words of comfort I can in these dark times. More and more droids are up and leaving for the City, turning aside from their purpose out here. I dare not go. I know the fate that awaits them, that would await me if I followed them. They would become nothing but purpose; nothing but empty machines. But isn't that what I want them to be? Servants of the higher power, functions given form? Isn't that the right way?

I was asked these questions seven months and six days ago, or rather forced to ask them of myself, and I still have no idea.