Dusk was falling, and from my hidden vantage point, I watched the sun dip below the jagged peaks of the neighbouring mountains and cast elongated silhouettes across the green plain below me. Amongst the abundant clusters of wildflowers on the mountainside, I recognised the spiky petals of the Peruvian lily and the crimson red swathes of edible nasturtiums. Others that I could name included Passion flowers and Andean Blue Thistle, a hardy plant that symbolised the resilient nature of the Argentinian people living in these mountains.
I had gained much of my information about local flora from Sol during our time together on the base, and I remembered the dream, if it was a dream, of being buried alive beneath the surface of this same mountain, and 'Joe' telling me that Sol and the others were waiting to meet me at the top. I hoped this would happen; it would be wonderful to be reunited with my old companions.
I shifted in my cramped position as the pine-scented warm air became noticeably cooler, and I saw a soft mist gathering in the foothills. There was an intense stillness over the mountainside, similar to the spiritual atmosphere inside an ancient church, but now was not the time for reflection or meditation. There was a job to be done.
My eyes locked on the mountain path below, where the lonely figure of Hector (he asked me to call him by that name) trudged along with the swaying gait of a camel. An appropriate analogy, as he was carrying a large sack of scrap metal on his back that resembled a camel's hump.
Hector and I are now a team, and it feels good to have a trusted companion in this unpredictable world.
We have a plan.
Hector will deposit the metal in the usual place for collection and then disappear for half a day. From my vantage point on a rocky ledge, I will be able to see who comes to leave goods in exchange for the metal and hopefully make contact.
I have no idea how long I have to wait, and in the silence, my thoughts drifted back to how the authorities in the metal forest had temporarily confiscated one of Hector's legs.
Not to be outdone, he had engineered a temporary replacement from a length of metal tubing. It was remarkably well done in the circumstances and worked reasonably well, but it would not bear his full weight, and he could only move along by swaying from side to side, using the makeshift leg as a kind of pivot.
I felt deeply sorry for this brave young airman who had awoken in the body of a robot. It was life, of course, after a fashion, but I wondered if he had the choice, whether he would have chosen to remain dead. His mind worked in the same way as it had always done, and he told me that if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was back in his human body.
His story so far was far from complete, and there was more to come. He had somehow become separated from his former colleagues at the airfield. He could not remember the details, as it seemed so long ago. There was no way of estimating how long he had been in this world, but he thought that it could be hundreds of years, or even longer.
A couple of hours passed, and I had to fight to stay awake. I tried to eat as a distraction. There was only fruit and water to sustain me on my watch, and I needed to find something more substantial to eat if I was to survive in the long term.
By now it was fully dark, but luckily there was a full moon, and I could see for a limited distance. Moving the scrap and leaving the goods would create noise. I was a light sleeper and wondered if I dared to take a short nap.
Sleeping on watch was inexcusable, but I was exhausted by recent events, and I nodded off even while I was deciding whether to risk it or not.
I don't know how long I slept, but when I awoke, the metal had vanished, and a small pile of goods had been left in its place.
I was angry with myself for failing to do my duty and rose quickly to my feet. It was half-light now, and I thought I could see a small group of figures ascending towards the summit. I threw caution to the wind and shouted out to them. Sound carries well at night, and I could see that they had heard me.
I waved my arms like a windmill and continued to make as much noise as I could. They came to a halt, and after some consultation between themselves, turned around and slowly headed back the way they had come.
I scrambled down the incline to meet them and, in my desperation to make amends for my mistake, gave no thought to the possibility that they might be hostile.
I soon found out my mistake when I felt a hard blow to my head that knocked me to the ground. One of the men must have left the main group and circled to attack me from the rear. When I tried to get back to my feet, he hit me again, and this time I stayed down.
I lost consciousness for a time and awoke to find that my arms were tied behind my back, and I had been hoisted into a sitting position.
I closed my eyes for a second and shook my head, trying to clear my blurred vision. The rest of the group had arrived, and there were now five of them in total. None of them spoke as they gazed at me curiously. It seemed that they could not work out who I was, or where I had come from, and more importantly, whether I was friend or foe.
They began to talk to each other, and I recognised their speech as a form of Argentinian, with similar sounds and intonations, but they were speaking in a thick dialect that I could not understand.
One of them stepped forward, but he still kept a distance between us.
He barked out what seemed like a question, but I could not understand and shook my head.
"Hablo mas despacio," I said, in Spanish, 'speak more slowly.
"Hablo?" he said, apparently recognising the word, but not the rest.
"Sí, pero más despacio, más despacio," I repeated.
Qué?
He did not understand, so I tried again in Pidgin.
"Abeg talk small-small make I hear you well. No dey rush, I no dey understand wetin you dey talk."
And so, it continued.
In a mixture of Spanish and pidgin, I eventually realised he was asking where I came from. I had no answer that he could understand, so I looked up to the base at the summit and said, 'Commandant,' meaning that I wanted to meet him.
The man was astonished at my saying this word and stepped back into the group. They spoke between themselves animatedly, and eventually one of them became very angry and gesticulated towards where I lay. He continued to harangue the other three until they fell silent, passively agreeing to whatever he was saying.
He stepped forward with a hostile expression on his face, and to my horror, he drew a large knife from his belt. Never taking his eyes from my face, he walked to within touching distance and, lunging forward, hit me in the face, knocking me flat. Turning me over, he ripped down the sleeve of my jacket, and I felt his knife penetrate my exposed flesh.
I cried out in pain and braced myself for a second blow.