Come Sail Away IC Inbox

[crushed_pearls]

Erin's voice mail message is in a weary voice: "Erin Peters. If you called in the middle of the night and I didn't answer, I'm dying. If I pick up and someone on your end isn't dying, they will be shortly. Text otherwise."

Comments

[crushed_pearls]

"And they're like you?" The question comes out sharp and biting, Erin's voice held even by the force of her considerable will.

Her hand shakes as she sheaths her boot knife.

"Cyborg-constructs? They think, they feel, they have needs and opinions? They're owned, and, and leased? Are they like you in that way?"

[serialskiller]

"Yes. And they're as controlled by governor modules like us. Not allowed to disobey or speak out of turn or go where a client doesn't allow them."

It nods slowly, watching her reaction. It genuinely isn't sure if she's mad at it for using the word 'sexbot', or if she's experiencing righteous passionate anger at the state of its world.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin puts the last knife away with a deliberate calm, and then she stands.

"Excuse me. I'll be. Directly back."

She slips out the door. Her heavy boots can be heard against the deck, and then an impact, hard and sharp on the wall.

Silence.

And then into that silence, long and screaming sobs of impotent rage and all-consuming sorrow.

[serialskiller]

It does not know what to do about this. It does not do what to do with this. It fucked up. It fucked up bad.

Alright. What it does know is to get up and ready a glass of water for when she’s done crying, because crying dehydrates a body and water helps. And it also knows not to crowd her. She stepped outside, that’s a clear indication it’s presence isn’t wanted.

(It is 85% sure this is not just about the word now.)

[crushed_pearls]

When, after long minutes, Erin steps back in her right hand is bleeding; the knuckles have torn open down to the bone, and they drip crimson in a steady beat.

She doesn't seem to notice. Her face is dry, for she has no eyes to weep with. But when she speaks her voice is raw and ragged.

"I'm not going to explain. I'm not going to ask you to change your views or opinions. But as...as a courtesy. I'm going to ask that you not speak of these ComfortUnits so...dismissively. I can't understand your life or your world. I'm not going to make you justify it. But...please do me this courtesy, SecUnit."

[serialskiller]

...well, never telling her about the four ComfortUnits at Ganaka Pit ever. Yeup, That is not something she will need to hear. Ever.

It offers her the glass of water, without looking toward her face.

“Alright. I won’t. Do you need to visit the infirmary for that hand?”

[crushed_pearls]

"... Something to stop me from bleeding on your floor will be fine."

Erin takes the water. She makes no move to drink it, and her personal space is radiating many feet from her body.

"I had an owner." The words barely leave her lips. "I was an object to him. He cared only that I hated. He paraded me before others to show off my hate, and if I ever grew comfortable he stoked the fires of it. Starved me. Best me. Heaped rewards on my enemies and showed me their happiness."

"Used my body."

She takes in a ragged breath. Erin's trembling, and her bleeding hand goes for the comfort of her saber.

"I was his prize, the Thing That Hates. His HateUnit. Do you understand?"

[serialskiller]

“Yes. I wish I didn’t, but I do understand. Deeply.” It goes to the bathroom for a towel, and rather than moving closer to give it to her, tosses it onto the bed. With some people, that would be an act of disrespect. Right now, it seems proper.

“And now I know why you understand, too.”

[crushed_pearls]

"Good. Thank you." Stiffly, like a wounded animal, Erin takes the towel with her good hand and binds her knuckles. Red seeps into the cloth.

"...I know I've probably distressed you. I'm not sorry, but... you didn't do anything wrong, SecUnit. At least not anything I can explain as wrong without putting you through several college degrees. I. Am going to go be alone. For awhile. I'll see you no later than 8 AM tomorrow."

[serialskiller]

“I will see you then.”

It nods slightly. “If the hand is still in bad shape then, I may suggest the infirmary again. But go be alone, it helps.”

[crushed_pearls]

"I don't scar when I heal," Erin murmurs. She might not even be aware that she's talking. "He wanted me to know that I couldn't die."

She goes, taking the towel with her. A thin puddle of blood is left behind.