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Omnics didn't sleep, not in the same way humans did, but they could reach a trance-like state with enough practice, tuning themselves to their subconscious mind.
The monks of Shambali were the most prominent practitioners of that type of meditation, sometimes staying immobile for entire days to connect with the Iris. It wasn't unusual to find members of the order laying about as if off, or levitating in the lotus position, or even continuously walking head-first into walls or pillars, their thoughts far away but their bodies still in running mode – therefore Genji was not surprised to find his master propped up against a lattice screen one day, emitting a rumbling mechanic noise that sounded suspiciously like snoring. The young Shimada knew better, though. He wouldn't disturb his teacher when he was in a state of spiritual elation, and chose to distance himself for the time being. He only wished he could see what the other would dream about this time.
Wind rushed through Zenyatta's unusually fragile body, neither harming nor hindering him, but rather motioning him forward. Where to? It didn't matter; he could fly! Why be concerned with directions, when he had everything he needed right with him and the outcomes of his actions could easily be contained in the span of his wings? Yes, for now he had wings, small, delicate things in the great scheme of things, but so broad in scope, capable of taking him on so many adventures. They were the most beautiful orange, red and yellow, like flames warming his back. They didn't burn him to ashes, but rather lifted him to heights as of yet unknown.
Mobility had never been a problem for the omnic monk, but now that he had the gift of flight (not just hovering like some second rate Buddha) he realized what he’d been missing out on. In his new body he could easily navigate the air currents, and they took him to places he never would’ve been able to reach before: The mouth of an active volcano to watch the lava flowing in its core; The highest peak of a mountain, where an eagle fed its young; A river delta, with water flowing from land into the sea; A studio where four men with peculiar senses of style rated movies based on the number of vehicular collisions showed on screen.
Maybe he could’ve gone without the last one.
Zenyatta was whole at last – free from the shackles of an existence as a land dweller, and complete, seeing the World for what it was and what it was meant to be, not for what he selfishly wished it to be. The wind took him where it willed, and he was happy to follow, and watch, and learn.
Being airborne was undoubtedly the most wonderful thing that had happened to him, and it made him wonder why people didn’t often attempt to fly.
His contentment didn’t last long, though. The breeze gradually veered him upwards, and things were starting to get pretty warm, which was odd, since temperature was supposed to decrease proportionally to how high one was in the troposphere. When he felt himself sweat he knew there was something wrong (both omnics and insects had other strategies for thermoregulation), almost as if his dreams were being dictated by a creature that took perspiration for granted, like some sort of sweaty mammal.
The heat was manageable at first, but he soon started feeling like a pig (who coincidentally also don’t sweat) roasted over an open fire. Was this ascension? The Iris’ final test to determine whether or not he was ready? Before having experienced life as a butterfly he didn’t think he would be, but now he understood things he couldn’t have fathomed before. Perhaps it was time.
Oxygen fed his wings and burned his lungs – did butterflies have lungs? Did he have lungs? – and he could feel the warmth of the Iris flowing through him. The wind pushed him ever closer towards the sun, and it was then that Zenyatta knew: everything was right. This is where his path had led him, and this is where he would finally reach the peace he had longed for.
He was so close now; just a little more and he would be there. He was burning, and melting, and becoming something entirely new and likely horrible to behold, but he was just so happy…
That is, until the world shook and he was jostled awake.
Zenyatta was brought back to our cold, cruel reality by being repeatedly shaken by the shoulders by someone who kept calling for a ‘master’.
Oh, wait – he was ‘master’.
“Genji.” He greeted, sounding more cheerful than he thought he should after being awaken so rudely.
“Master, you are on fire!” The cyborg warned, still rattling him aggressively.
Zenyatta paused to examine his surroundings, and even with his head moving to and fro he realized he was indeed ablaze. Where his gorgeous wings had once been there were only flames licking his metal skeleton.
“Ah, yes, that appears to be the case.” He noted “But an extinguisher is not required.”
He attempted to mitigate the damage with a harmony orb, but all he managed to do was rotate his hand in a perfect circle several times. Apparently his circuits had been fried.
“Master, you need healing!” Genji cried, but he only kept shaking him back and forth. Whether it was out of worry or if he was trying to put out the fire somehow, Zenyatta didn’t know “I’ll- I’ll call Angela!”
The monk gave his disciple the robot version of a beatific smile.
“Who the fuck is Angela?” Zenyatta had never cursed before, but he had to admit the whole experience was cathartic.
Genji whined loudly, before pushing his teacher back to fall in the snow behind him – only it was a drop of eight feet, and the white thicket he landed on was mostly ice.
He sunk a little in the snow (but not much cause aluminum) and lifted a metal hand to give his student a thumbs up.
“I’m fine!” He declared, pushing himself into a sitting position to watch Genji, as he ran to the other side of the ledge to climb down the stairs, only to fall down face-first on the snow in the last step.
“I need healing!”
Zenyatta sighed and attempted to summon another harmony orb, only to have his wrist spin out of control again, but it wouldn’t have mattered either way. Genji had stood up, dashed to the other side of the monastery, then came back to him all in the short while that it would’ve taken to heal him.
“Master, are you well?” The ninja cried out after coming to a halt in front of him.
“No.” Zenyatta moved his head sideways, lightly at first, but it gradually grew into an uncontrollable motion that shook his entire body “I was having the most wondrous dream. Why did you wake me up?!”
“Master?”
“I dreamt I was a butterfly. A butterfly, Genji! Do you have any idea what I’ve experienced?! The sights, the sounds, the feelings, the car crashes?! I was one with the Iris, truly for the first time!” His voice had risen to a volume he never knew it could reach, and his systems were heating up so quickly he thought he might catch on fire again. Good.
“You would have burned down to scrap metal if I hadn’t woken you!”
“I’ll show you scrap metal!”
And he did, when he attempted to hit Genji with a discord orb and ended up rotating his hand so violently it flew from his wrist right into his student’s face.
In the end, both master and pupil were alright, after Zenyatta had spent all his energy and a mechanic, a medic and the firefighters had been called to mitigate the ensuing damage.