crushed_pearls | Come Sail Away IC Inbox

It appreciates feeling not looked at, which is even better than appreciating not feeling looked at.

"What you just said makes me feel completely more at ease with you than everyone who has stuck their nose in. And I can't get any of them to understand any of that at all. Because they feel that their vision for what I need to know is Right. And it's frustrating, because I can't just get them all to fuck off."

"Not to call you out in your own room here buddy but you're sorta bad at asserting your boundaries. I had a key advantage there back home, which is that my people understand that if you cross a firmly established line you're going to get fucking stabbed and all your friends will tell you that you deserved it. I'm suspecting that has not been your life."

Erin tests the edge of her knife, sets it aside, and gets a new knife. This one wasn't visibly on her person either.

"You wanna just complain about it? I do love a good complaining session, warms my withered heart. I can also try to explain why I suspect they keep doing it but previous caveats about the divide between soul and soul continue to apply."

"For the vast majority of my existence, I was not allowed to assert boundaries. Even after I disabled my governor module, I pretended to not be a rogue and obeyed orders for another thirty-five thousand hours, because if I was discovered to not be under their control, I would have been reset, memory-purged again or destroyed. Even now, back home, I am legally property of the Preservation Alliance and its acting leader, Dr. Mensah. And that's the 'nice' alternative, she and her team bought me from the insurance company they'd been leasing me from. Because in their polity, I could technically almost be a citizen, just one required to have a human guardian responsible for anything I did. So, no. That has not been my life."

Is that the sort of complaining that she wanted to hear?

"God the similarities continue to pile up." Erin sighs and tilts her head up, just long enough to acknowledge SecUnit, before returning her body language to the knife.

"Everyone piling in on you must feel like a lot of pressure. Have you even had the chance to just...process that you're in a new place, one with no owners, no corps?"

"...how do you process that? What does that even mean, in practice? I...after they bought me, the PresAux team, I ran away from them, because there was a thing I needed to do, but I sort of got piled on back in my own world, too. That asshole research transport. Like. It helped me, with hiding and blending in, but it was in some ways even worse than anyone on this ship."

It huffs quietly. "So no, probably not."

"When I figure it out I'll tell you buddy. I'm taking it one psychotic break at a time and reminding myself that every morning I wake up not dead means I'm doing better than I was. Sometimes folks need time alone. Sometimes people need people to listen. Most people need a bit of both. You're not people but it sounds like you haven't gotten time alone to just...think. Feel. Let yourself be hurt or happy without it having to tangle with obligations to others."

“You might be right about that.” Not that it knows what to do about any of that, but yes, she is right. “I’m not sure I know how to. Right now, if it get alone time, I usually just watch serials. It’s...escapism, perhaps. The alias Rin comes from a character in one of my favorites.”

"Eh, I've heard worse. Art is... special to humans for a reason."

She 'looks' up. "Tell me about that Run, if you're feeling it. You mentioned them before too."

“She’s a trainee in a solicitor’s office on a lunar colony, and while she starts off naive and a little squeamish, compared to the other trainees, she really finds her voice and a sort of righteous ruthlessness over the course of the show. Like in season three...”

If Erin doesn’t stop it, she’s going to be in for a solid ten minute infodump full of deep literary analysis about a show that isn’t entirely unlike How to Get Away with Murder in space.

Erin makes no move to stop this at all. She, in fact, simply goes about her knife business slightly more quietly so she can pay rapt attention.

"...so I've used both Rin and Eden as aliases while pretending to be a human security contractor, and it's more because they're not strongly gendered and I like the show than because I want to emulate the examples of the characters themselves. For one thing, Rin's romantic arc is an absolute no for me. I skip through most of the bits with the pairing."

"I can dig it. Not understand it, but dig it well enough." Erin nods her head a little. Her knives are, honestly, sharp already, which is why she's now on her sixth; they barely need the attention. "But, and this isn't a criticism, doesn't that mean you're missing out on the motives and inner worlds of the characters?"

"I watched them the first time through the series. But...the pairing bits, especially when humans are...interfacing..." Cough "...is incredibly uncomfortable for me. I'm not a sexbot, I don't need to deal with any of that."

Sexbot. There is an immediate tension that goes through Erin's body and stills all her movements. It's a long and silent moment before the whetstone goes back into her pocket, and she starts putting her knives away with mechanical motions.

The haze of gunpowder around her burns away in a hateful flash.

It glances toward her.

"Ah, I'm sorry, did you not realize that's what ComfortUnits were for, when I mentioned them? They're sexbots, we're murderbots. Us and the CombatUnits."

"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?"

"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.

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.

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.)

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."

...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?”

"... 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?"

Edited 2022-09-19 08:08 (UTC)

“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.”

"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."

“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.”

(no subject)

crushed_pearls - 2022-09-19 08:49 (UTC) - Expand