I stare out to sea. It is what I have always done.

Well. Not always. For a long time, at least. I do not know how long precisely. Time means nothing to a being such as I.

Nearly as long as this town has existed, at least. I arrived here when it was only just emerging as a maritime trade port. Precious few people knew then that I am no ordinary statue.

None alive know today. I am good at staying still. I have had much time to practice.

I watch. The ships enter and leave the harbor. Ships today are impressive in scale, but ugly and inelegant.

I had thought my patience infinite, but it seems even I grow bored when there is nothing of interest to look at.

 For lack of anything interesting to focus on, I begin to reminisce. I would close my eyes for it, but someone might notice.

I was created in Greece. How long ago, I cannot say—time means nothing. Much longer ago than I have stood at this harbor.

My creator was a master artisan and inventor. He had loved and lost. His only daughter was dead—taken and murdered in the night by brigands. So, he made me. It is the Gods’ cruel sense of humor, one might suppose—to take his daughter away just give him the spark of inspiration to create a new one using his talents alone.

“You, my child, shall never perish. Your bronze skin will not rust, your wooden bones will not rot,” he told me when I first opened my eyes.

He was right. My body has yet to show signs of decay. He made me that way so that I would never have to leave him.

 When I first learned that he fashioned me in the likeness of another girl—my elder twin sister? —I went to a nearby lake to study my reflection. Not to admire it, but to learn what she must have looked like. I am of slender build, with wiry limbs and firm shoulders; My sister was evidently no stranger to daily labor. My cheeks appear soft and smooth, belying the unyielding metal they are fashioned from, yet my pointed eyebrows give me a naturally austere expression. I wear a tunic and a mantle, but no sandals or other footwear.

Still, we are not precisely alike in appearance. My hair is styled in the same side braid as she had… But whereas my creator had mentioned his daughter as having raven hair, mine is the same shiny bronze color as my skin—as are my eyes and everything else. My clothes, also. Since I cannot take them off, they may as well be my skin.

There is one other notable difference: I am some seventy-five cubits tall. None would think to abduct me—and if they did, they would regret it.

We spent our days together in solitude, in a forested mountainside where none would disturb us. He would attend to his daily chores; I would sit and watch and attempt to fathom the world around me. Occasionally I asked him questions and he answered them to the best of his ability.

“What is happiness? Are we happy?” I once asked.

“We live without want. I have you, whom I hold dear. And I am loved by you in turn. Though I still grieve, I am happy. I hope you are too,” he had said in reply.

He was right. I was happy—fulfilled. I wanted him to know that, to express my gratitude for having brought me into such a serene existence, but lacked the words to do so. Instead, I picked him up one day and hugged him to my cheek. Gently; I was aware that I could easily crush him. He was surprised, but thankful.

Yet his definition of happiness did not account for one thing, a fatal flaw in his plan for our existence together. His own skin and bones grew brittle with age.

I had to leave him anyway. He went where I cannot follow. I hope his first daughter is with him.

For a time I sat still. I held his remains in my hands until they were nothing but bones. I was made to give company to my creator, and now that creator was gone. As was my purpose, my happiness. For the first time I felt as hollow as my body is.

Then I reminisced, as I do now. I remembered the conversations we had. Considered them over and over. Eventually, I concluded that if I had no purpose any longer, I ought to find a new one.

So I thought it over again. But no matter how long I thought, I could not decide on an answer that convinced me.

I changed my approach. If I cannot find a purpose within me, then perhaps it can be found somewhere out there. For the first time, I ventured out into the world I had wondered about all my life.

I have no heart, no breath, yet I felt trepidation all the same.

I wandered the land. My footfalls left deep marks in the fields and grasslands I passed through. I saw many human settlements and thought about trying to speak to them, to learn about them. But whenever I approached, the humans would hurry into their homes and not reemerge until I left.

I wondered why, at first. Once, I lifted the roof off of a human hut. The occupants shrieked in terror and hid under their table. I understood then that my appearance frightened humans.

Is it because I am so tall and strong compared to them, or because they had never seen one such as I before? But I have never seen one such as myself before either, and yet my own appearance does not frighten me when I see it on the water’s surface. It must be the former. I supposed that I might also fear a creature that had the power to destroy me with an errant movement, had I ever met any.

I decided then to leave humans alone as much as I could, giving settlements a wide berth and staying off of roads whenever that was possible. Sometimes my presence frightened humans despite my best efforts, and that fright became anger, and they would chase after me.

But I walk with great strides and never tire, so no human could keep up with me. Not even on horseback.

My creator had told me about the world. Bits and pieces. Yet on my journey I saw many things I did not understand. Was there so much he did not tell me about? Or had the world changed since he was alive? It is a difficult thing for me to fathom. Change is alien to me.

I passed mountains, coasts, forests. I realized I was not in Greece any longer. I kept walking. It did not matter where to.

Eventually I had reached a distant land, and I ran into the sea once again. I still had not found a purpose. I decided to stop and sit down on a hillside and ponder what I had learned during my journey.

Humans passed by the place where I sat. Curiously, they were not frightened by me this time. Some even seemed to pause to admire my beauty. I learned then that I was not deemed a threat as long as I remained perfectly still.

I knew not where else to go, so I remained where I was. The locals grew accustomed to my presence. On a number of occasions human children attempted to scale me. Those who were successful would sit on my shoulder for a while and then climb down again. It was strangely exciting: What were their intentions? Would they fall and get hurt? I hoped not. I tried even harder to remain still so as not to frighten them. I appreciated their company, however brief.

I do not know precisely how long I sat there. Time is meaningless to me. Days or years, months or decades, weeks or centuries. Judging from what I know of human lifespans, though, it was most likely the latter—I saw many generations grow old.

The humans who lived in the area and the infrequent traveler would use the shade I provided as a meeting place, or my toes as a bench to rest upon. It did not bother me. They would hold conversations there. I learned their unfamiliar language by listening closely and recognizing context clues. Soon I knew enough to overhear that I was in a place called Spain, and the sea I looked out over was called the Atlantic Ocean.

Eventually I began receiving visits from humans who spoke different languages. These foreign visitors soon became more and more frequent. Did they come all that way to meet me? But none spoke to me directly or attempted any other method of communication with me.

They did still have conversations in my presence, however, and so I continued to learn. They were visitors from Portugal, from France, from Morocco, from England. I began to learn their tongues as well.

Often times, the first words I could recognize from each language were those meaning ‘beautiful’ or synonyms thereof. I will confess to some vanity: It was flattering to hear the admiration of so many. If my cheeks could blush, they would have given me away. Was my purpose to be admired like this? Yet that answer felt too shallow to be satisfying.

Some wondered aloud where I had come from, or who had created me. I considered answering their questions but decided against it. After all, they only dared come near me as long as I remained still, and I had learned that humans became aggressive when frightened.

So I sat and thought and listened. I wondered if this was to be my life from now on. My skin was frequently besmirched by the elements, the wildlife, and at times unruly humans, but periodically the locals would clean me, clambering all over me and polishing me until I looked like new. It felt nice to be appreciated.

One night, however, a visitor would change that routine. Once again—change is a curious, alien sensation, but looking back, I am glad for it.

This visitor was from further away than any whom I had heard before, but he spoke the same language as those from England. He was a pale, gangly man with a pensive demeanor. He had come alone, at a time of night when I rarely had any company besides nocturnal creatures.

He spoke to me, or rather, spoke at me. A monologue of sorts. Spoke of his worries and why he was here. He had been born into a wealthy family. Lived an early life free of want, as I had. Had lost his parents, like I lost my creator. Was now alone in the world.

“Now my peers have elected me to lead some newly founded trading port called Mammotham as its second mayor,” he said, voice wrought with weariness. “I do not know why—because they believe I am my father, I suppose. But I have nothing of value to contribute in such a role. I feel as if I have been cajoled into a purpose I am entirely unsuited for. That is why I am here in Europe… Before my responsibilities come to tie me down, I wished to make a journey. To run away, perhaps, but mostly to discover myself. Yet… I cannot run forever.”

I considered that for a moment. I had been looking for a purpose, and this man was running away from it, and we both wound up here.

I made a snap decision, then, to confide in him as he did to me. For the first time since I had sat down on that hillside, I moved my head to look at him. I smiled gently, hoping it would reassure him.

It took him a moment to notice that I had moved. When he did, it startled him, as I imagined it would.

“Did you just move?” he asked. “Are you alive?”

I nodded.

“Good Lord! Have I gone mad? Has imagination claimed my senses?!”

I shook my head.

Once he accepted that what he saw was real and that I meant him no harm, he spoke again, this time to me. And for the first time since I was separated from my creator, I spoke too.

Despite our considerable differences, we found it easy to find common ground. His way of thinking differed from mine, but I appreciated that. I told him of my own journey to find purpose. As the hour grew late, he announced that he had to leave and rest for the night, but he swore that he would return.

And he did the very next evening before sunset. He sat at my feet and spoke with me again.

It was hard to see him very well, and I imagined it was not pleasant for him to look up at me from all the way down by my toes. I remembered the children who would sit on my shoulder. So, after some sparse conversation, I asked him.

“Would you like to come up here and observe the world from my vantage point?”

He looked hesitant. But then he said, “That would be an unforgettable experience. As long as it is safe, I would be delighted.”

He climbed onto my palm once I lowered it down for him. I had not done this since my creator was alive. For a moment, the deep feeling of loneliness left me.

Once he was settled on my shoulder, he did not speak. He simply watched as the sun’s last rays faded and the moon rose. Sat still, looked out to the ocean, and thought, as I did. For how long, I do not know. Time is meaningless.

Eventually he sighed with great contentment and said “Thank you.” What happened next, I will never forget. He stood up straight, balancing on my shoulder, carefully paced up to the side of my head, and embraced my neck.

It is made of unyielding bronze. Cold and hard. I have learned that humans prefer to embrace things that are soft and warm. Yet he pressed himself against my skin as if it were the finest silk.

It perplexed me. “What brought you to do that?” I asked him once he let go.

He simply laughed. “The expression on your face right now is too precious for words,” he told me instead of answering my question. “For such a tall woman, you are positively adorable.”

The response deepened my confusion. Many had called me beautiful, stately, fierce—But none had ever said THAT to me. For several seconds, I did not realize my mouth was open. His laugh grew heartier. “Do not mock me,” I warned.

The feeling did not displease me, however. It defies explanation.

We had more conversations, and more nights of silent gazing in each other’s company.

One evening he had an announcement. “It is time I returned home,” he said. “I would like to thank you. It is because of you that I now feel ready to face the responsibilities thrust upon my shoulders.”

I did not feel like I had done much but silently accepted his thanks nonetheless.

That was not all, however. “I have a proposal,” he continued. “Last night I was struck by an idea. Perhaps I have a way to answer your yearning for purpose, if you are interested. For this plan to work, however, you will need to join me on my return voyage across the ocean.”

But how, I thought. I could wade through rivers and crest mountains with ease, but to cross an ocean was an exercise even I dared not attempt. Swimming, I feared, is simply beyond me. I would surely sink to the ocean floor as a brick would—and I dared not discover what that would do to me. I voiced these concerns to him.

“I have a solution for that, too. I would ask that you trust me. If you do, please come to the docks at the beach tomorrow after midnight.”

Out of curiosity, I did as he asked. There he presented me with the ship that was to provide his passage home. A curious vessel, made of metal and lacking sails. Quite different from what I had understood ships to look like.

“It is the state-of-the-art in shipbuilding, capable of carrying enormous amounts of cargo without fear of sinking. I have spoken to the ship’s captain and he has assured me that carrying a statue of your size with us would not be an issue,” he explained.

I wished to ponder this. Would the Spanish locals miss me? Was it truly wise to board this vessel? But I had to choose then and there. The ship would soon leave. For once, time was scarce. It was a strange feeling.

So I decided: Staying in Spain any longer would do me no better than had I remained in Greece forever. This was a rare opportunity. I had to trust this young man who had become my only friend. He said he wanted to help me find my purpose, and I wished to believe in him.

Thus it was that I knelt on the deck of the ship. The floor groaned under my weight but held firm. With my permission, my friend secured my body with a plethora of strong ropes to ensure I would not easily fall over.

A crew of sailors appeared once the sun rose and set about preparing the ship for departure. I remained still so that they would not be alarmed. Some stopped to look at me, but none seemed surprised by my presence. I assume my friend made an arrangement with them.

The ship cast off. We were out at open sea. The metal beneath my knees shuddered without cease. I felt another emotion I had no prior experience with: Fear. None could harm me; my creator had made sure of that. But I knew that if I fell overboard somehow, I would never reemerge from the watery depths. I had yet to determine where I wished to spend the rest of eternity, but it was certainly not at the bottom of the sea.

Whenever the deck was vacant, my friend would appear before me. It was as if he could sense my unease. He spoke reassurances, promised that I would be alright, come what may. I looked at his small form before my knees, utterly engulfed by my shadow, and knew that there would be nothing he could do to help me in the event of disaster befalling the ship. Yet his words still comforted me, somehow.

Eventually the ship ground to a halt. I cautiously looked up. We had come ashore at Mammotham—the town I still call home today.

It was but a modest settlement back then, yet already preparing to expand. I was escorted to an empty cobblestone square overlooking the harbor under the cover of night and instructed to strike a pose, facing the sea.

“You shall serve as a symbol for this town. An inspiration, a guiding light,” my friend said to me. “In time, the citizens will grow to love you as their pride and joy.”

That did sound nice. But would I truly help anyone by merely standing here, I wondered? Still, I had managed to inspire my friend all the same, simply by being there. Perhaps those were his thoughts when he brought me here.

So I stood there as instructed. I grew used to my surroundings. For once, time meant something: Day by day, I would see the harbor before me change, the little human workers wandering about at my feet.

My friend kept visiting me regularly for as long as he yet lived. I could not move my head to meet his eyes down below, lest someone notices, but I would hear his voice. Holding conversations as we once did was impossible like this, but I enjoyed his company. It helped me settle into my new environment.

The town continued to grow, to change, but I could only see the small part of it that lay before me. I have had to infer what the rest of it behind me looks like. I remember when they first introduced electricity in the form of street lights. The city would be bright at all hours from then on. I marveled when I saw them turn on for the first time.

That was when my friend gave me a gift, too: A stone torch, outfitted with an electric beacon made to resemble a flame. Quite ingenious. “So that you may continue to serve as a guiding light at all hours,” he had said.

Beside the gift of being created, for which I remain eternally thankful, I had never received a present before. I felt loved. Truly, I was home at last.

But my happiness was fleeting. The torch was to be a parting gift. Eventually my friend stopped visiting. I later overheard from passers-by that he had succumbed from illness. Time had separated me from those I care about once more. I was surrounded by humans at all times now, but I felt as lonely as when my creator had perished.

Many years must have passed since then. I have tried to settle into my role. But it seems today that I am increasingly forgotten—I am less of a symbol and more of a relic. This part of town seldom sees visitors anymore, and it is even rarer that they have anything nice to say about me.

“What’s this thing here, anyway?” I heard a tourist say the other day.

“Says here on this sign that she’s meant to represent the Greek goddess Athena,” another read out.

A sign? Now who put that there? It’s patently false, at any rate—I bear no resemblance to the Goddess. Oh, how I wish I could correct them. But if I move or speak…

“She reminds me a little of that statue in New York,” the first tourist remarked.

“Yeah. Only this one’s smaller and made of bronze.”

Another statue that looks like me, and even bigger than I am. Is she alive too, I wonder? I should like to meet her one day if so. Does she also tire of seeing the same thing day in, day out?

“Seems like this thing is a poor man’s version they made to attract tourists like us to this city,” one of them said snidely. “The only thing this one’s got going for it is that she’s got nice legs, but only kind of. C’mon, let’s go look at something more interesting.”

How brazenly rude! They would not dare say such things in my presence if they knew what I was capable of. I have half a mind to stomp my feet and give them a scare, just once. Who would believe them? But I think better of it. It takes tremendous willpower to keep my brow from furrowing as they leave.

I try to forget the encounter and sink back into reverie as time passes me by. ‘The citizens will grow to love you as their pride and joy,’ he said… What a fool I was to believe that. Perhaps this journey I have taken was all a mistake, and I was better off never having moved from my spot back in Greece.

I snap out of my thoughts when all of a sudden, everything goes dark. Everything, save the lights on the passing ships in the distance.

A power outage. I have seen this happen a few times before. At this hour in the dead of night, it means the city streets are almost completely dark for once.

I listen. Nobody’s around.

This is… my chance. The burning curiosity I have kept repressed as I stood here all these years can finally be answered. Do I dare turn around and see what’s behind me?

Slowly I move my head. I confirm that there is nobody at my feet. Then I turn around.

When I first arrived in Mammotham, there was but a single building in the entire town that matched my height. I could easily look over the roofs of the houses to the surrounding landscape. Now, however, the buildings that lined the street before me made even me feel puny. I cannot imagine how humans must experience walking through here.

Not a single person in sight, still. I cautiously step out of the square I have occupied for so long and onto the road. Thankfully it does not crack beneath my feet. The road runs perpendicular to the square. It is a moonless night and therefore nearly pitch dark, but my eyes can adjust to such conditions quite well.

I peer past one of those tall buildings flanking me. The street is truly abandoned. The humans who work here have long since gone home. I see some metal vehicles parked in neat rows nearby—cars, I believe they are called. I have heard them often but seldom see them. I move closer to inspect them and in my enthusiasm nearly stumble—I am out of practice when it comes to walking, it seems.

I stoop down to pick up one of the smaller ones. It is lighter than I expected. I turn it over in my hand and peer at the inner workings beneath. Human ingenuity fascinates me—my existence sprang from it, after all. Still, I wonder if the humans of today could make anything like me if they tried. My creator was a one-of-a-kind master of his craft, even if he had none of the tools that modern craftsmen have at their disposal. Now that he was dead, only I knew the secret of my creation.

My concentration is interrupted when I hear a loud gasp from somewhere nearby. I look in the direction of the sound and see the dark silhouette of a little girl huddling against a wall, staring at me.

It seems I have been spotted.

Before I can think of a good response, the girl opens her mouth and shrieks. It is so startling that I nearly drop the car I was studying. I quickly place it back where I found it and scoot away from the terrified child.

“Who’s there?!” she wails. “I can’t see anything! I’m lost, and cold, and then the lights went out, and now there’s a monster… I just wanna go ho-o-o-ome!”

I try not to panic as the poor girl breaks down into loud sobs. She cannot see; if only I had a light for her… Oh, but of course! The torch! It has practically become an extension of myself, so I had completely forgotten I was still carrying it in my other hand.

It has its own generator. Usually it turns on and off by itself, but there is also a breaker for manual operation… Now, where was it again… Ah, there! I carefully flick it with my nail. A bright light promptly begins emanating from the torch, illuminating the street around me.

“Ah!” the girl gasps and shields her eyes from the harsh light. She rubs at her face for a moment, then lowers her arm and stares at my face in wonder with curious brown eyes. She’s wearing an adorable yellow dress, and her frizzy black hair has a little bow in it.

“You’re not a monster,” she says. “You’re that statue that’s always by the water!”

“That is correct,” I tell her, and try to send her a calm smile. If she knows who I am, then perhaps I can get her to trust me.

Her eyes widen even further. “You can talk?!”

I nod. “What are you doing here by yourself, little girl?”

“Umm, well, I…” She bashfully buries her face in her knees. “I kinda ran away from home ‘cause I was mad at my mom. But then I got lost and now I feel really dumb about it. And then it got dark out of nowhere…”

“I see. Is your mother looking for you right now?”

“Uh-huh, probably,” she nods and sits up straight. “Um, I’m Ashley. What’s your name, Miss Statue?”

“N-Name?” I blink, perplexed. How has that never occurred to me in all these years? “I do not think I ever got a name. Never really needed one, I suppose.”

Ashley taps a finger to her cheek. “You know, I went to visit you a while ago with my mom, and she told me the sign by your feet says you look like someone named Athena. Does that help?”

“Those are lies someone made up. I do not look like the Goddess at all. I look like my older sister, and no one else!” I say insistently.

To my surprise, the girl giggles a little. “Haha, you look very serious, but you’re actually kind of silly when you’re upset, Miss Athena!”

“That’s not my name!” My mouth scrunches up in frustration. This child does not listen at all!

But oh well. At least she is not upset any longer. I calm myself with that thought.

“Say, it is not good for children to be out alone so late. Even I know this much,” I tell her. “You said you visited me before. Do you think you know the way home from there?”

Her face becomes anxious again. “I, I don’t know. It’s so dark now.”

“That is quite alright. If you like, you can stay with me while we wait for someone to find you. They might be drawn to the light of my torch,” I suggest.

Ashley nods. “Sure, okay! My mom said I shouldn’t go with strangers, but you’re not a stranger, are you, Miss Athena?”

I feel a twinge of annoyance that the name has apparently stuck, but I try to keep it off my face. “Certainly. Shall we go?”

She hops to her feet and dusts off her dress, but then gasps as her face lights up with excitement. “Wait! Can I ride on your shoulder, Miss Athena? You’re so tall! I bet the view is amazing from up there!”

“Well, I suppose it is…” I consider it. I have had children climb onto me before, but that was when I was sitting still. Yet if it would put her at ease, then perhaps… “Alright, as long as you promise to be careful.”

I lower my free hand to her and she climbs on. “Wow, you have strong hands, don’t you, Miss Athena?” She taps her little fist against my bronze skin and it makes a hollow metal noise. I cannot help but feel endeared by her curiosity.

Slowly and carefully, I stand back up to my full height. I bring my hand over to my shoulder and she clambers on, sidling up against my neck.

“Are you settled in?” I ask.

“Yup!” Ashley pats her little hand against me to confirm it.

I retrace my route back the way I came, one step at a time, making sure to keep my shoulders steady and upright. I hold out my torch in front of me to light up the path ahead, making sure there is no one else around that I might step on.

Soon enough we are back at my spot. Out of habit, I stop to gaze out to sea.

“Wow. Everything looks so tiny from up here,” Ashley remarks. “Sucks that I can’t see much right now, though, since it’s so dark. And you get to see this every day, Miss Athena! You’re so lucky.”

“I wonder about that sometimes,” I say. “Lately I have felt rather lonely and forgotten. Every day is spent in solitude.”

“Sah-lee-tude,” she repeats. I suppose she might not be familiar with that word yet. “Does that mean you don’t have any friends?”

I close my eyes. “I did have a friend, once. He brought me here. But he has passed away long ago, leaving me all alone.”

“Aww, it’s okay, Miss Athena. I’ll be your friend! I can come visit you every so often.”

“That is kind of you, but I do not know if my heart can take losing you as well,” I say.

“What do you mean?”

“You are a human, I am not. Humans grow old and sick while only I remain. It is the way of things.” And the humans of today care not for me, it seems. Being alone is just my fate, I suppose.

Ashley thought about my words for a moment, looking to the ground far beneath us. She seemed troubled. I realize too late that burdening one so young as her with awareness of her own mortality may have been too cruel of me.

Before I can apologize, though, she looks up and declares, “I wish I was like you.”

“Hmm?”

“A statue, I mean. Big and strong and always young. And so pretty! People could look at me and feel brave because I’d support them. And I could do that forever.”

It has been a while since someone said nice things about me, so I smile at her. Still, I had better correct her lofty view of what my life is like. “I do not think you would like that very much. As I said, it is a lonely existence,” I remind her.

“But that’s exactly why,” she insists. “One day I’ll die too, and then I can’t be friends with you anymore. But if I were the same as you, then we could be together forever. You could be my big sis! I always wanted a sister.”

A sister… I wish I could have met mine.

I break out of my thoughts when Ashley begins coughing. “Are you alright?” I ask.

She shivers so much that I can feel it. “It’s the wind. It’s so cold,” she says.

Ah, of course! I cannot feel the wind, so it does not bother me, but a child like Ashley should not be exposed to the elements for too long. Being all the way up here is not helping matters.

“Please hold on,” I announce as I carefully lower my body to the ground and sit down, keeping my free hand near her tiny body in case she falls. Once I am settled in, I very gently pick her up by her waist with two fingers and bring her to my stomach, cradling her against it.

For the first time I curse my lack of human flesh and blood. My metal body has no warmth to give. Still, I hope that this at least shields her from the wind. If only my torch had a real flame.

“Thanks, Miss Athena,” she murmurs, then has another coughing fit.

I hold my torch aloft. Hopefully someone will see it and come investigate. I am at a loss about what to do in this situation. Should I go to seek help? But I would not know where to look. Remaining still and waiting is all I have ever done.

So we wait. I do not know how long. Ashley coughs a few more times, but then her breathing slows. I look down and see that she has fallen asleep, arms and head resting against my finger. What is that human saying, “It is so cute I could melt?” I am glad it is only a figure of expression, or I would have been reduced to slag by now. I just hope that she will be alright.

Eventually my waiting is interrupted by a voice. “Ashley! Ashley, are you there?!” I hear a woman calling.

I feel the tiny girl spring to life in my hand. “Mom…? Mom, I’m here!”

“Oh thank the Lord above. Where are you, honey? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m with Miss Athena!” Ashley yells back.

I take away my hand and the girl slides down my body to my lap, where she carefully climbs down to the ground. In the meantime a woman in a professional-looking suit appears from the sidewalk and runs up to Ashley as soon as she spots her, embracing her.

“Oh Ashley! Never do that again, you hear me? I was worried sick. Oh, you’re so cold, we need to get you home. Here,” she says as she takes off her jacket and drapes it over the girl. “I’m sorry I took so long to find you. Were you scared in the dark all by yourself?”

“A little,” Ashley admitted. “But I wasn’t alone! Miss Athena came to find me! She’s very nice, Mom!”

Ashley’s mother gives her a quizzical look. “Who’s Miss Athena, then?”

Ashley rolled her eyes and pointed at me. “The statue, of course! She’s right there where she always is! How did you miss her, she’s so tall!”

The woman looks up at me. I wave awkwardly at her, and she recoils in surprise. “Oh my God!”

“Um, nice to meet you, I suppose,” I say.

Ashley’s mother looks at me, then at her daughter’s beaming smile, then back at me. “L-Likewise. Sorry, I was not aware that you were… alive,” she eventually manages. “My name’s Faith, I’m Ashley’s mom. So, um… Am I to understand that you looked after her for me?”

I nod. “It was my pleasure. She is a kind girl. I apologize that I was not able to keep her warm, but I am glad she is safe now.”

“Yes, well… Thank you, I suppose,” she hesitantly says to me. Then Ashley has another coughing fit. “Ah, sorry, it was nice meeting you, but we really should be getting home now.”

“Right you are. Goodbye, Ashley,” I smile and wave at her as Faith begins guiding her away.

She waves back, then turns to her mother. “Mommy, can we visit Miss Athena tomorrow, please?”

“Not with your cough acting up again, dear. You’ve been out for far too long.”

“But mooom! She’s lonely! I’m her only friend right now!”

“Well, she’s a big girl. She can handle being alone for a while. If she’s your friend, she’ll understand that your health comes first.”

They have left my earshot, and I am alone again. I rise to my feet and strike my usual pose, holding the torch aloft. Soon after the streetlights finally blink back on. Then they blink off again when the sun rises, and back on when it sets.

A week passes without incident. Then one morning Ashley and her mother come by to visit me again. I cannot move this time lest the whole city knows my secret. Come to think of it, I suppose this means those two did not tell anybody about me. They speak to me at my feet, explain that Ashley has always had a weak constitution and that she had run away after getting fed up with being cooped up indoors all the time.

I wish I could join them in conversation. All I can do for now was listen. But then Faith remarks on my lack of response, suggesting that perhaps I am not alive after all and that they had both imagined our meeting, so I wiggle my toes in protest. Ashley immediately points it out with a giggle.

They leave again, then come back the week after. This routine keeps happening. Ashley has been telling me about how she’s doing and that she hopes I am doing alright as well. We have more in common than I thought: She spends a lot of time by herself due to her poor health, watching the city and its people go by from her apartment window. I begin trying to keep track of time going by so that I knew when she’ll come visit. Finally I have something to look forward to. The days going by means something now. I grow to care about the girl deeply, as if she were a younger sister to me.

Still, years pass me by all too quickly. Before I know it, two decades have elapsed and Ashley has grown into a wonderful young woman. She still visits me by herself, when she is well enough to. More often than not in the middle of the night. If we are lucky, no one is around and we can actually have a conversation. She sits on my shoulder and admires the view with me while I offer my thoughts about whatever is troubling her that night.

I worry sometimes that spending so many cold nights with me has had an adverse effect on her health. She got better for a while, her health improving to the point where, during her adolescence, it no longer restricted her so much—yet over the last year she has been falling ill again more and more often. She has confided in me that she is not long for this world, and that she has known this for a long time. Still, doctors had told her that she could not hope to see her twenty-fifth birthday at the rate her health deteriorates, so the fact that she is twenty-seven today is an achievement in itself.

One of many achievements, I should say. I have watched her graduate from college despite having had to miss many classes; become a famous, award-winning artist and activist for fair and equal treatment of Mammotham’s citizens; and win over the hearts of nearly the entire city in the process. To them, especially the lesser-fortunate, she has become a hero, a symbol—something I was supposed to be but never managed. Yet I am not jealous. If anything, I am immensely proud that she has done so much in such a short life.

And unfortunately, the day when I must bid her farewell has come sooner than I had hoped. I have not seen her in a month and fear the worst. Last night Faith appeared before me—something she has not done in a long time, especially not by herself or at that late hour. She works for the city council and has risen through its ranks these past twenty years, which spared her no free time to spend conversing with a statue.  But tonight she had an important message which confirmed my suspicions: Ashley may very well be on her deathbed.

She has but one last seemingly vain request. Yet when I hear it, I understand her intention right away, and it is far from selfish. I also understand why her mother has appeared before me: To have me divulge the secret of how I was created.

I do happen to know. It was one of the first things I asked my creator.

“It will not be her,” I warn. “For the same reason that I am not my sister. But it will carry on her legacy when she is gone.”

She nods in understanding and leaves again, having written everything I explained down in meticulous detail.

To my grief, Ashley succumbs before she has the chance to say goodbye to me. I spend weeks in despondency. My torch remains unlit. It feels as if the entire city is grieving alongside me.

But tonight her mother has come to visit me again, and she has not come alone. Many workers drape an enormous cloth over me. Tie me down. Wrap something around my waist—a cable attached to a crane’s hoist, I believe, but I cannot see. It is a disconcerting experience, though I trust that they have good intentions.

I am being transported somewhere. Not to the harbor, but deeper into the city. How exciting! I have never been this far in.

Eventually we stop, and I am placed back upright. The ropes and cloth are removed and I see that I am standing at the top of a number of steps, overlooking a large plaza lined with trees.

Faith is standing at the bottom of the steps, looking up at me. She looks even smaller from this vantage point. “There, that will be all. Thank you for your hard work, you may go,” she tells the workers, and they seem pleased to head home. Soon enough it is just us.

Next, she addresses me directly. “Behind you is city hall,” she says. “This is to be your new home for the foreseeable future. For the both of you.”

The both of us? Then that means…

“You must be Athena. Nice to meet you… or to see you again, I guess,” a familiar cheerful voice to my right says.

I want to look, but is it safe? Is anybody watching?

“Go on,” the woman at the bottom of the steps reassures me.

I turn my head to the right. I am indeed standing in front of a building that reminds me a little of the temples back in Greece. It is just slightly taller than I am. So this is where the city’s government resides.

But that is not what catches my attention most. I am standing to the left-hand side of the building’s entrance, and over to the right, there is another statue…

“Hey, glad you made it,” the statue with Ashley’s face says to me.

I smile wider than I ever have. “I thought I’d never see you again,” I say.

She is just half a head taller than me. It is the first time in my life that I have had to look up at someone. She is truly gorgeous, fashioned from polished dark metal for her body, with lighter tones for the dress she has been immortalized in. Truly, she has come so far since I first met her.

I am overcome with emotion. If I had tears to spill…

She opens her arms invitingly and I happily embrace her. For once I do not have to fear crushing her. For once I get to experience the joy of being embraced back. She is here, and I never have to be alone again.

“I never imagined the city council would approve this,” I say, still burying my face into her shoulder.

“They almost didn’t,” Faith interjects. I had almost forgotten that she is still here. “I had to pull every string I had to get enough people on board, and even then… Making a statue of this scale is just taboo these days unless it’s of Jesus or something. But they made an exception since she’s come to mean so much to this city, and there was enough popular support for it. Her memory means something to a lot of folks.”

Ashley flashes a coy smile. “Thanks, mom. Love you.”

The human lady sighs wryly. “I still don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about all this, but I’m glad I could make my little girl happy one more time… In any case, it’s late, so I’m going to get some sleep now. You girls be back in position before the sun rises, got that?”

“Yes, mom,” Ashley and I say in unison.

So begins our new life. This Ashley—She decided to stick with that name—does not have the memories of her human counterpart, but she has the same personality, and I am happy to fill in the blanks for her when we get to talk at night. During the day we silently watch all the little humans come and go. There are so many more than I ever saw at my old spot.

“You can hear so many things just standing here and eavesdropping,” she remarks to me one night. “It makes me glad that at least some people are still fighting for what’s right… Though, it’s ironic that my reward for my activism is to become a piece of art myself and passively watch it all happen for the rest of time.” She giggles. “It’s almost funny when you think of it that way.”

I smile as well. “I suppose it is. But such is the way for our kind.”

“Maybe for you, since you’re so boring, Athena,” she teases. “But just so you know, if I hear something big going down and I’m the only one who can jump in, I’m doing it. Consequences be damned. You watch me.”

“Don’t,” I warn. “You’ll cause a panic.”

“Maybe I should! Sometimes shaking things up is a good thing.”

“Not that kind of shaking things up. Trust me.”

“’Trust me,’ as if you would know. You’ve been alive for like three thousand years and you never even dared to say ‘boo’ to someone.”

“Hey, I’m not that old!”

“Aren’t you always going on about how time means nothing to us? So what if I’m off by a few hundred years?”

“Well—Well, that just means that age doesn’t matter, so don’t bring it up!”

“Oh ho, struck a nerve. And here I thought you didn't have any. But sure. That means you’re not the older sister, since age doesn’t matter, hmm? But I’m the big sister, since I’m taller!”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Then how does it work, oh Goddess of Wisdom?”

“For the last time—”

“That’s not who you are, I know!”

“Hmph! Then stop teasing me about it, will you?!”

Ashley has a laughing fit, leaning against one of the pillars of the city hall’s façade. It is a good thing it is quite sturdy.

“What’s so amusing?” I demand to know.

“The look on your face, of course!”

She continues giggling incessantly. It’s endearing. Despite myself, I smile and begin laughing too.

If anyone sees us like this, we are in a lot of trouble—but I cannot find it in myself to worry about that. So long as we’re together, I am so happy. And the whole world can see it for all I care.