Magenta pearl

She had not expected to ever see Pipsqueak again. Particularly, she would've never expected to see him triumphantly waltzing back in her chamber with three neurons in tow and a mark of communication hovering above his head.

It became something of a routine. Pipsqueak would vanish for weeks at a time, roaming far and wide, and eventually come back with neurons and occasionally small white pearls for her to read. She'd tell him the stories of the world before the Ancients twisted it to fit their every need, and sometimes to illustrate her point better she drew figures in the sand. White pearls mostly contained stories, recordings of everyday events, many unimportant bits of information that made up the lives of people long gone.

He was enraptured in hearing her describe their contents. Sometimes she'd draw in the dust around her to better illustrate what they were talking about, something he positively delighted in seeing. Any doubts she might have had about his cognitive abilities vanished when he cobbled together a rough phonetic alphabet from her drawings. He'd make a rough sketch of an animal, plant or object she mentioned to indicate their initial. An ancient for an A, Vulture for the V, and so on.

Thus he started his first attempts at proper communication.

He'd sit for hours listening to the tales of a civilization long gone, laughing at their jokes, marveling at the things they were able to build. It warmed Moon's heart.

On one of his visits, Pip brought something different. It was a bright pink pearl, bigger than the others. Moon cupped it in her hands and willed it to reveal its contents.

"Hmm! It is the genome for a purposed organism. A small slug to clean the insides of pipes, one not much unlike yourself." She paused.

"Do you know what a purposed organism is? Actually you are talking to one right now! Although, a small fraction of one. Nowadays I am mostly just my puppet." she pinched her cheek to emphasize the point.

"The bulk of me (my brain, if you will) is in these walls but I am disconnected from those parts, to a degree where I am only vaguely aware of how bad their condition is. Most purposed organisms were considerably smaller than me, and some barely looked like organisms at all. More like tubes in metal boxes, where something went in one end and something else came out the other. When I came into this world there was very little primal fauna left. So it's highly likely that you are the descendant of a purposed organism yourself!"

Pip rubbed his face, ears flat on his skull. He grabbed a piece of junk and started etching something with his claws.

"I M PURPSED ORGANSM ?" Moon winced. His spelling was atrocious, but she supposed he couldn't be much blamed for it. She'd have to teach him another time.

"Yes, little one. This is most likely one of your ancestors, I think. Look," She gently pried the tablet from his hands and sketched the creature.

"It's almost as cute as you!"

For once, her drawings didn't seem to cheer him up at all. His tail twitched nervously, and he worried the tip of it with his paws.

"BUT PIPSQUIK DONT CLEN PIPES"

Moon furrowed her brow. "What do you mean, little creature?"

"PIPES R DIRTY"

"Well, yes. The people who needed them to be clean are not here anymore."

"WER DID THEY GO ?"

For a long time, Moon was silent.

"I don't know, Pipsqueak. I... forgot." her shoulders stooped a bit. "My memory is not what it used to be, little one. I am old. Inconceivably so."

Sensing her sadness, the little beast slunk closer and nuzzled her chest. She absently reached down to stroke his head, scratching a spot behind his ear that made him chitter in contentment. He then tried to speak, straining his voice to utter sounds so different from his own.

"If Pip, bring bugs... Mun better?" he gestured at the growing collection of neuron flies hovering around them.

Moon felt herself smiling despite herself.

"Maybe. But it is not necessary, little friend. Other iterators' structures are very dangerous, even for a brave, crafty little creature such as yourself."

He puffed his chest at the praise. Then he stopped, looking thoughtful. He reached for the plank again.

"IS MUN ITERATR?"

"Yes. Or at least the remains of one."

For the rest of his visit, he sat and said nothing. Eventually, Moon tapped his muzzle.

"You need to go, little wonderer. I feel the rain approaching."

He snuggled against her hand and looked up, worried.

"I will be fine. It's not pleasant, but I've been through it before. Now go."

She patted his head.

"Be safe."