The sky was a bleak orange, burnt and weary.

The sun’s harsh light pierced the clouds of dust and dull beams penetrated deep into the recesses of the archive depository, steeping the space in a hellish doom.

None of this bothered Echo, of course, who went about his business as he had done each day since he was first powered up, so very long ago. He searched eternally for an audience, someone before whom he could recite the ancient ballads. He was tasked with teaching and performing, and he would strive to fulfil his enduring commission until the very last.

There had been others – many others. But each eventually fell and failed to wake. All things die. All things are forgotten.

His creators had left so many years ago, venturing to the stars. He and others like him were left to wander this dreary planet beneath the toxic sky, cursed with the commands at the root of their programming.

The dark, cavernous rooms of the archive depository showed the corruption of time, slowly collapsing upon itself. Dark rooms were filled with waste and boxes – nothing that might be willing, let alone capable, of hearing Echo’s recitations.

One such room had boxes filled with empty storage drives. They served no purpose now and had never been used, so were among the only things that still potentially had power. Echo brushed a thick layer of dust and grime from the lid of one box, revealing a label that had been worn down to illegibility. Symbols toiled to be read, but Echo couldn’t make them out.

A shadow flashed across the room, disrupting the orange haze. Echo felt an electric surge within him. Was that fear? Surely not. He turned to find whatever was stalking him.

“Hello?” He called out. “I’d love to reminisce, if you could spare a minute?”

The only response was the cold echo of his own voice. There was nothing there. He shrugged and went on his way.

He stepped outside, onto the grand steps. He wasn’t sure if anything was out there, but he decided to perform anyway. His exuberant clothes had long disintegrated, as had most of his skin. His joints were rusting and his vocal box was beginning to wear, but he stepped forward with as much zest as he had within him, arms spread wide and his lips parted in a smile.

“Good evening esteemed patrons and very important personalities. Welcome to this evening’s performance, featuring yours truly. My name is Echo and it is my privilege to recite for you all–”

He paused and looked around, peering into the shadows, ever hopeful.

“–a favourite of mine. Penned by a satirist from a land once called England, this poem, called ‘Ode on Solitude’, was written by Alexander Pope.”

Echo cleared his throat theatrically and dipped into a deep bow, his metal hips creaking as he did so. He mustered as much emotion as was available to him and began to recite, his voice deep and ostentatious.

“Thus let me live, unseen, unknown. Thus unlamented let me die. Steal from the world, and not a stone tell where I lie.”

He couldn’t bring himself to perform any more than the single, final stanza.

He waited but no response came. It was perfectly quiet. Just like the last time.

He leaned against the wall and slid down to sit cross-legged. He bowed his head and put himself into a long, deep sleep.

**

When Echo woke the sun was starting to rise beyond the distant mountains. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he was last awake, but the passage of time was evident by the fact that the roofline was lower. Buildings had collapsed and were strewn across the ground.

He frowned and cocked his head as he looked at the sun. It reminded him of something from a long time ago. A moment later he realised what caught his attention: he could actually see the sun. It wasn’t hidden behind the dust. Perhaps it could give him a proper charge this time – no, that was probably too much to hope for.

He pushed himself to his feet, grunting with the groans of his aging body. He started his walk.

Past ruins and rock he walked, looking for receptive ears, but none were to be found. He walked a long way, dust caking the soles of his feet, until he found a village of rooftops whose walls had been claimed by the earth many years ago. It was good a spot as any.

“Good morning esteemed patrons and very impotent person–”

He coughed awkwardly.

“I do beg your pardon, very important personalities. Welcome to this morning’s performance, featuring yours truly. My name is Echo. It is my privilege to recite for you all a favourite of mine. It is one I do not recall ever reciting, so I am as excited as you for this day’s recital. It is ‘Ode on Solitude’ by Alexander Bope.”

He cleared his throat, but doubled over in a coughing fit. He gave a quick bow and heard something in his back pop. He injected as much bravado into his voice as he could.

“Thus let me live, unseen, unknown. Thus unlamented let me…ah…die.”

He hesitated. He had never stumbled over a word before. A shadow flashed behind a steeple. “Steal from the world, and not a bone tell where I lie.”

He waited for a round of applause that never came.

He turned and crossed a dune, but something caught his eye.

At the base of the dune, a collapsed wall revealed a door. It was older than the surrounding material and looked like it had been boarded up and the wall built around it. But now revealed to the world – after who knows how long – Echo pushed open the door. It gave some resistance, but grumbled as it edged open. The air within was thick and old, and a staircase plunged into darkness.

Echo stepped through the door, his metallic toes clinking. He closed the door behind him and descended into the inky depths. He almost forgot he had a light on his chest, which he flicked on when he got to the bottom of the stairs.

He looked around, the light illuminating a miracle. The room was large and occupied with shelves upon shelves of books. Echo had never seen a book, but he had heard of them. He walked through the hidden cathedral of story, occasionally touching a spine. As far as he could, he was filled with awe.

He pulled out a book, bound in thick black leather, emblazoned with golden writing: HOLY BIBLE.

He flicked it upon and muttered as the pages within began to crumble. He cradled the book and read a verse. He muttered aloud to himself.

“Turn thee unto me, and have mercy upon me; for I am desolate and afflicted.”

He sat down and placed the bible in his lap.

He powered down.

**

He woke to pitch darkness. He had no clue where he was, no memory of this place. He quickly jumped to his feet, but his joints barely moved. Something thudded on the ground before him. He reached out, padding the ground until his fingers caressed leather.

Turning on the light on his chest, Echo picked up the book. There were golden symbols on the front, but he couldn’t read them. He opened it up and the pages fell like snow onto his lap.

Slowly, he stretched his limbs and managed to stand. His joints complained loudly.

He still wasn’t sure where he was, so he called out.

“Hello? Can someone help?”

But the only response was his own voice, echoing back to him.

He started walking, looking at the books. He cocked his head, trying to remember. These were significant, but he didn’t know why.

He finally found the staircase, and climbed to the door and pushed it open. The light was blinding. Everything was so bright. And so clear. It took some time for Echo’s eyes to adjust.

He looked around and started when he saw something in the sky. He peered up at the white object floating, suspended in the air. A word drifted to his mind: cloud.

He hadn’t seen a cloud in…he couldn’t remember when he last saw a cloud.

And the sky wasn’t orange. It was almost blue.

He stepped forward, beginning his search, looking for someone to hear his stories.

Again, he finds no one, but he performs anyway. It’s what he did. It’s what he was programmed to do. To recite. To remember.

“Good morning esteemed…” He coughed and shook his head. “Good morning esteemed patrons and very…”

He frowned. He coughed again and forced himself to smile.

“Welcome to today’s performance, featuring me. My name is…”

Everything seemed to freeze and he stood there in agony. He could feel the circuits shifting within his skull. There was a slight buzzing sound that he hadn’t noticed before. Had that noise always been there?

“My name is…Echo! Yes, my name is Echo.”

The smile was no longer forced and he even managed a gleeful chuckle.

“I shall recite for you all an old favourite of mine, one I have never recited before. It is ‘Ode on Solitude’ by…ah…an old poet.”

He cleared his throat. It felt scratchy and he winced.

“Thus let me live, unseen, unknown. Thus un…”

He went quiet and stood there, watching the cloud drift through the sky. The buzzing sound in his head was louder now but he put out of his mind. He looked around at the crumbling buildings. They were different to what he remembered, softer somehow. They weren’t buildings as such – they hadn’t been in a long, long time. They now seemed a part of the land itself. Everything blurred and he suddenly remembered what he was doing.

He shook his head and theatrically spread out his arms with an operatic expression painted on his face.

“Thus unlamented let me die. Steal from…from…from the pit, and–”

No that wasn’t right. How did it go?

“Steal from the…from the world, and no a–”

A shadow slipped across his periphery and he turned to look, his eyes wide, peering down an alley of brick and…was that a vine?

A vine snaked across the crumbled ruin, its green across the red and grey shining like a beacon.

He now realised why the buildings looked different, softer. They were covered with a thin layer of moss. He almost couldn’t recall that word. There hadn’t been a living thing on the planet since his creators left.

A shadow moved again, dipping between rocks. He turned and ran after it. It wasn’t so much a run as it was a shuffle, his rusting joints screaming a chorus of metal.

When he came upon the spot where he thoughts the shadow had alighted, there was nothing. If there had been something – and Echo now doubted that there had been – it was long gone, scared off by the shrieks of his aging body.

He turned and looked toward the door of the library. One of the few structures that still stood, a monument to those who inhabited this land long ago. Filled with stories from a forgotten time.

An idea jolted through his wiring. He smiled the smile he had been given to win over crowds. It was a beautiful smile, when he had skin.

He began the long and arduous walk back to archive depository. To pass the time, he started singing. It was a song he used to sing to some of his smallest audience.

“Lullaby and good night, with roses bedight. Creep into thy bed, there pillow thy head. If God will thou shalt wake, when the morning doth break. If God will thou shalt wake, when the morning–”

A chirp rang out.

Echo stopped in his tracks. A bird?

He looked around and growing through the ruins, a tree had sprung, straining toward the sky. In its branches sat a tangle, a nest. A small bird sat, watching Echo.

“If God will thou shalt wake, when the morning doth break.” Echo sang out. The bird sang back.

He continued to sing through sunrises and sunsets until he arrived at the ruined archive depository. It had almost completely disappeared into a dusting of ash and stone, but Echo hoped what he was looking for was still okay.

He scraped away the moss and dug through the rubble. He vaguely remembered a time when this would have been much easier, especially the larger chunks of stone. But with a cry of delight he found a box of what he was looking for: empty storage drives.

He sat and took one out. Mercifully, the drive still had power.

He opened a cap and stuck a finger into the drive. He felt it purr as it came to life and brought it to his lips. He began to recite all he could remember.

“My name is Echo. Thus let me live, unseen, unknown…”

He filled a whole box of drives before the shadow returned to the edge of his vision and he powered himself down.

**

He woke to a cheerful noise. Birds were chirping in the trees that grew around him. They were singing a song distantly familiar to him. A lullaby.

A gentle wind rustled the grass that cradled his ancient metal bones, and soft, warm sunrays fell upon him like a blanket. The sky above was a brilliant blue.

He tried to move his legs, but they wouldn’t budge. With enormous effort he managed to lift his head and look down at himself. One leg was detached and the other was buried. He looked beside him and sighed when he saw the box of drives. It was dirty and partly buried, but his recitations would still be intact. He smiled his famous smile.

He laid back and looked up.

“My name is…”

He frowned.

“My name…”

A bright light flashed in the sky, quickly followed by a second and then a third. The lights slowly grew and Echo realised they were coming closer.

A laugh wafted from between his lips and he looked toward the box of drives, his smile growing.

His creators were coming home and he had saved their memories. He had saved them.

Shadows danced before him, crowding his vision. They were bold and drew in at the sides. The trees blurred and the grass grew distant. Clarity left him. Memory abandoned him. All became dark. But his smile never parted.

“My name…”