People got out of the way finally, as #183 stepped into the hole that the survivors had been trapped in and stretched his arms up, lifting the sheet above his head fully as the last of them climbed out of the hole behind him, swearing at the crazy machine for putting them all in danger. His servo’s whined loudly as he stuggled with it, moving his feet again to step out of the hole and bringing the makeshift shovel with him. Dumping it down with practised care.<br/>It seemed like most of the humans were moving away now, either given up on finding any more survivors or too tired or injured to continue. #183 picked up a discarded shovel in his hand and went back to the piles of junk, digging it in to a clump of brick and mortar crumbs and dust and hoying it behind him. The methodic crunch and slide of the shovel at work reminded him of the ticking of his clockwork heart, slow, methodical, accurate. He was out of time with the few people who had remained to help out, and he tried to Synchronise with their strikes but to no avail.<br/>When he had cleared away as much of the small clumps of debris as he could, he started to heft large chunks of it again, lifting, walking, dropping, repeating. He began to make piles of debris based on what was closest, types of material, things that could be re-used for building the city again. He wasn’t sure why, it seemed like the right thing to do.<br/>When the sun began to rise at dawn and the birds began to sing outside the city, the red glow of the sun illuminating his heavily dusty hull, #183 was the only thing still working where he was, other workers having fallen asleep or having been dragged away by families or doctors. He was alone, following his orders. Trying to prove he was not defective, that he was useful and in full working order. Every so often, he would find wood to chew on and feed his internal fire, or drank water from a roof drainage bucket in order to keep his steam levels high. When the dust was so thick on his body that he was having trouble holding things, he washed himself quickly, and went back to work.<br/>The day had broken. And he was still there when the workers came back to carry on.<br/>