This biomechanical sap is a run-down, useless junkheap. He seems to have been expressly made for bad luck and failure. Perhaps its creator thought this would leave more good luck for him. Perhaps he's an experiment to find meaning apart from purpose.
A brisk gust makes Hugo's mandibles shiver briefly. From inside himself, he hears a faint chorus of click-whirrs punctuated irregularly by short spurts of air. The sun had started to hide earlier, and for longer—when a thought lasts a day you notice these things.
Hugolet his mass slouch forward a little, then, stiffly, caught himself with his stout foot. twisting his body upward to divert the momentum, he hefted his other foot forward. As it left the earth it made a ripping sound and a few small insects that favor the dark found themselves in an open, circular courtyard that hadn't been there a moment earlier.
Movement was strange to Hugo. He could only feel it in his core when he moved—never the impact of the step, just the vibration filtered through the limb. Never the foot, just the fall. Still, he had always known how to walk, even if he never understood the process. Hugo didn't move much. Moving changes things and the world changed so much already it was hard to keep up. Right now he was ready for a change, so he changed the world by the only means he knew. He walked over a hill.
The new world had some things in common with the old one. This was best. It is unwise, Hugo felt, to change too much at once. There was grass here—a bit sparser than in his old world. There were thin sheets of vapor stroked across the pale expanse of the sky. The same sounds he had been hearing a few minutes ago were reprised in the new world.
He had now begun to plod at a steady clip as far as plodding goes, and he almost tripped into a roll when he noticed the fragile green and pink thing in his path. He rocked precariously forward, then stumbled back a couple heavy steps. It had been a while since the world had had a flower.
Hugo was familiar with flowers, but what had struck him was that he had happened on this one at the moment it had shed one browning petal. Hugo pondered the meaning of this and wondered if the flower was, unable to walk, finding a new way to change the world.
Tarnished steel valves opened and closed with the faintest of creaks. Fleshy pink billows expanded and collapsed in an ancient rhythm. Hugo breathed in the cool atmosphere. He exhaled slowly, and let his thoughts come slowly to a point like heavy gray stalactites.