Melanie's temper was still on a low simmer as they left the broken bridge behind them. Her thoughts were again in turmoil, as they usually were after talking with Eddie, and before she could think better of it, one of those thoughts escaped her mouth.

"What makes you such an expert on what defines machines and humans?" she demanded.

"If you recall, I was an inventor's assistant," Eddie reminded. "I've seen my share of soulless constructs, and you don't qualify as such. Automata only do what they've been built to do and nothing else. They also don't question. You saved me and have questioned me quite often, neither of which is part of your mission to slay the undead. Your own actions prove your humanity."

Unable to refute his argument with anything remotely believable, Melanie changed the subject.

"Tell me about your time as an inventor's assistant," she prompted.

"It was exciting work," Eddie replied. "We were constantly looking for ways to make things better, not just already developed constructs but society and people as well. Anything that could be done could be done better with the aid of invention. The better the invention, the greater the advancement. Take, for example, airship design. As long as airships were limited to standard steam engines, their power output was limited, but when the steam engines were adapted to power hydrocoil stacks, which in turn powered the engines, it nearly quadrupled their range and speed."

"Was that your area of expertise, airships?" Melanie queried.

"No," he answered with a shake of his head. "I worked with interfacing, the merging of mechanical parts and organic systems. Obviously, someone more skilled in the field than I am did the work on you."

"How do you know about airships?" Melanie asked quickly, thinking if she couldn't silence his remarks about her humanity, she might have a better chance directing his conversation to things less troubling to her mind. "Was it because of your father being formerly an airship captain before he joined the army?"

"Yes," Eddie confirmed. He pushed a low hanging tree branch out of the way so they could both pass by without interference. Melanie gave a barely noticeable nod of thanks but didn't interrupt him. "He was always bringing home stories of the latest ship designs and upgrades. Then the outbreaks started."

"The airship disasters," Melanie recalled.

"There was a little time before those happened," Eddie clarified. "At first, containment was thought to be a viable solution, but when so many attempts failed, and the undead spread even further, new inventions were needed for either fighting them or analyzing and defeating the cause of their condition. All projects we'd been working on before became secondary as the war effort was all that mattered. Unfortunately, invention is a slow process, and the progression of infection was far faster. Cities fell, research stations were lost, scientists and inventors were turned, their notes being either burned or lost in the chaos afterwards. As the tide of living corpses continued, many tried to flee, and that's when the airship disasters began."

"There's nowhere to run from an outbreak on an airship," Melanie remarked.

"True," Eddie confirmed. "It wasn't only the infected onboard that were a problem. The Inventor for whom I was an assistant, his name was Claremont, worked in the city of Crankport. When the city was overrun, we tried to reach the airships, but pushed by the crowds, we were separated. By the time I reached one of the ships, it was already on fire. So many people trying to force their way on had overloaded safety supports and caused the ship to collapse, when the undead arrived, the blind panic sweeping the crowd was a perfect feeding ground as any hope of a coordinated defense was gone."

"Did you ever find Claremont again?" Melanie inquired.

"No," Eddie told her. "I know there's a chance he didn't make it out, but there's also a chance he did. I like to think he's alive out there, somewhere."

Melanie halted in the middle of the overgrown road, staring at him.

"Why do you continue to believe him to be alive when all the evidence of the years since would indicate otherwise?" she questioned. Her voice was a razor, cold and sharp.

Eddie paused for a moment, staring into her goggles as if trying to see her eyes beneath. Finally, he answered, but his hesitation gave the impression he hadn't considered the question before.

"Part of it is human nature, I guess," Eddie admitted with a shrug. "People tend to avoid pain, be it physical or mental, so if there's a chance to avoid it by hoping for something better, why not?"

"Aren't you just delaying the pain?" Melanie persisted.

"Aren't we all?" Eddie countered. "Everyone you ever meet will die someday. Should we wall ourselves off to prevent the pain we know is coming, or should we enjoy what we have for as long as possible?"

Melanie tilted her head slightly as she pondered the concept, and while she was still thinking on it, Eddie added another piece to it.

"And if a person is constantly shielding themselves from any potential loss, are they really enjoying what they have now?" he asked. "Are you?"

"Enjoyment is irrelevant to my mission," Melanie stated flatly.

"Zombies have a mindless existence, humans deserve better," Eddie countered, and before she could mention how little of her human form was left, he added, "You deserve better."

Melanie started walking again, and Eddie traveled with her in silence for several minutes before he struck up the conversation again.

"Another reason I believe Claremont is still alive is it gives me hope for better days," Eddie explained. "It leaves the possibility that all this death and destruction can be forgotten, and new things can be built, old things restored, and a better world may yet be."

"How can you stay hopeful in a broken world?" Melanie inquired. No hostility tinted her voice this time; it was only a question.

"I have to keep my hope because the world is broken," Eddie told her. "No one can see the ruins and the horrors that stalk them without being affected. Hope is the shield against depression. Once hope is lost, there's no point in going on or fighting against the odds, just let the end come. I'm not ready to quit, so I have to hang on to any sliver of hope I can. Sometimes, it's all I have."

Melanie heard the resolve, but she also detected the slightest tremor in his voice. She suspected it was based in emotions, but with few memories and experiences of such, Melanie didn't have a way to properly analyze it for context.

"How do you do it?" she asked.

"I suppose the first step is perspective," Eddie reasoned. "Anyone can look at the problems they're facing and be overwhelmed, thinking there's no way anyone can endure or be saved, but it's vital to look at the things that remain. People are still alive and fighting back, settlements are holding against the undead, ammunition caches from before are discovered, those nearly overrun are rescued by the timely intervention of another, and so on. Anyone can be depressed looking only at the bad, but focusing on the good can give us the strength to keep going.  Who knows if our lives won't be the inspiration for someone else to cling to hope for another day?"

He spread his arms to the trees and grass around them, tilting his head back slightly so the dappled sunlight coming through the leaves washed across his face. He closed his eyes as if he could absorb the sunlight like a sponge.

"Every day is a gift to live, breathe, and possibly save another life," he said, inhaling deeply. Eddie opened his eyes, turning to look at her as his arms dropped back to his sides. "Although there will be losses along the way, as long as enough people keep fighting the zombies, along with their own doubts and fears, humanity isn't lost. Hope remains."