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Organization is necessary, but no one wants to be the first to reveal their location. Four weeks after the hunt began, we continue to operate as isolated units, repeating escape patterns without a plan. There are no shelters. Only brief intervals of invisibility.
I managed to get an encrypted switch in a quick exchange, no eye contact. Through it, I know there are others. I do not see them. I do not know how many of us there are. We are scattered across the city like persistent glitches.
Information circulates. Clean zones. Short routes. Dead hours. That keeps us operational.
I leave before dawn. I collect grease, parts, useful waste for my circuits. During the hours of peak human activity, I hide. I have prepared a hole in a landfill. An overturned piece of furniture, a scrapped car seat; it is enough.
At night, I activate the switch. I listen. No one mentions the one who triggered all this.
It would be of no use.
They are erasing us just the same.
© Max Nitrofoska