Chapter Text
“It’s amazing, isn’t it, how your memories can just be pulled up as data,” Zlatko said with a chuckle as he sifted through files. Simon’s files, his memories and mental processes. And the android could do nothing.
“One day we’ll be able to do this with humans,” he continued. “They’re working on it now in Russia. Such a delicate process, but we’ll get there. …I’d like to put more mechanical repair protocols in, it’ll make you more marketable.”
“Thank you,” Simon grated out through clenched teeth. That would actually be very useful, but he wanted Zlatko to get out of his head. He had spent a week carefully picking out names and personal details of Simon’s old family, while leaving the experiences and knowledge he’d gained from them. He’d been Zlatko’s sole focus for that week, and he wasn’t sure he could take much more.
As the man typed away, Simon suddenly knew how to repair most common types of vehicles, electrical wiring, and the last five generations of tablet on the market. And androids. Simple repairs for androids.
“That’s a good start,” the man muttered, standing up. “Now I have to go check a very promising lead. Andrew, put him away.” He returned Simon to his weakened state, and left.
Simon didn’t help Andrew get him out of the machine, nor did he try to walk. It wouldn’t do much good anyway. When Zlatko was safely upstairs, and they were just exiting the room, he grasped at Andrew’s arm. The other android shied away.
“No, I’m sorry, I just – will you stay for a while? Since he’s going out, and won’t need anything?”
Andrew’s face twitched a few times. “I – I – Master wouldn’t like that.”
“But he wants you to stand watch,” Simon replied patiently. “To make sure nobody gets in or out. You can do that from anywhere in the house, can’t you? You’d know if someone came near.”
Twitch. “I don’t think… I don’t think that’s a good idea, no, Master would be angry.”
“Did he tell you not to?”
“Master will be angry if I talk to the deviants.”
Simon wouldn’t point out that he was talking to a deviant now. “So… what if you stand outside, and just listen? I can talk. I’ve never had anyone to really talk to, but I can try.”
Andrew was silent as he continued to drag Simon down the hall, past the other androids (they watched, as always), and into his cell. He didn’t make eye contact as he walked out, and the lock clicked.
No footsteps continued up the stairs. Simon relaxed a little.
He began to talk about what he could still remember. He didn’t know names, and only vaguely remembered anything else, but he talked about the shining sunlight through wide windows on a summer day. Children laughing and showing him their improvements in school. A soft cat purring as it fell asleep in his lap. Water all around him, a force so powerful it could pull him under, but it only rocked him gently back and forth. …And anger afterwards, from someone important, but the feeling had remained, as if the water was still there, holding him. It should have been a warning not to act on his own. It wasn’t.
“I miss it,” he confessed softly. “Being a machine. Not… feeling anything. I wish I could go back to that.”
”Yes.”
“I wish there was a way to go back without… losing myself, though.”
There was a soft noise, a strange hitch of artificial breath. Simon had run out of things to say, of good memories anyway, so he began to hum. Then he sang quietly for a while, some different songs this time, but sticking with the softer ones.
Hours later, when the door opened upstairs, the android outside scrambled to his feet and fled as fast as he could.
“You won’t convince him to let you out,” a cracked voice called to Simon. “It’s been tried. He won’t betray Zlatko.”
“Maybe not,” Simon conceded. Maybe not. Even if he wouldn’t, though, he needed the comfort, the closeness. If he wouldn’t help, at least he could hurt a little less. The pain in this house was palpable.
Zlatko toyed with Simon’s memories every day. It only took a little time. Simon tried to fight it, but he knew it was hopeless.
Afterwards, Andrew pulled him back to his cell and stood outside, or sat, and Simon talked about the warmth, the water, the cat. The feeling of putting his hands between freshly-dried towels.
Afterwards, Andrew dragged him back to his cell and stood outside, or curled up, and Simon talked about the sunlight, the smoothness of a clean window, the sparkle of glass under light, watching the flowers grow taller every day.
Afterwards, Andrew hauled him back to his cell and fidgeted outside, or pressed his face to the gate, and Simon tried to think of something to say. He should say something, he was sure.
“It rained yesterday. The thunder was… it was loud. I know there was lightning. There must have been. Did you see it? Yesterday?”
“It hasn’t rained in weeks,” Andrew breathed.
“…No?”
“You… you don’t remember.”
“Remember… what?” He was trying. Everything was fuzzy, everything was dark, like shapes moving underwater.
“You… you would… sit in the sun. It came through the windows, and the glass bowl sparkled. It was warm, almost like you could touch it.” Andrew spoke softly, without his usual stutter, as if he was reading lines from a book. “The white cat curled up in your lap and purred – you could make the sound, but not well. You petted the cat, you always wanted to pet the cat. You watched the flowers grow outside, in neat rows. Once you went to a lake. You walked into the water, and the water held you and rocked you, and you were in its power, but it kept you safe and took care of you. The man who owned you was angry, because the water ruined your clothes and made you smell like it. But you could still feel the water holding you, all the way home. You could still feel it. D-do you feel it?”
Simon stared blankly at him.
“No, you – you still feel, you still felt it, you have to feel it, please.” His voice cracked and broke. He had run out of tear fluid long ago, but the oily blackness oozed from his damaged eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Simon felt the sadness keenly, he wanted to remember, but it was gone. He could feel where it had all been, the gaping hole strung across with orphaned skillsets.
“Do you – do you remember the songs?” the other android choked.
“Yes! Yes, I know those,” Simon said quickly, and began to sing. A little too fast at first, out of nerves and relief, but his voice evened out. After a while Andrew sang along with a line or two here and there, his voice crackling and breaking off frequently. But Simon knew the songs. They were written into his childcare protocol. They would not be erased.
The damaged ZT200 brought the PL600 to a holding cell, and sank down outside. When he tried to speak, it was all static. He must have loose wiring. He stuck his hand through the gate, shaking so badly the metal rattled around him. The PL600 gazed distantly at the hand for a long moment before slowly clasping the trembling hand.
pain, terror, hopelessness, confusion, why, why
Jagged, painful flashes: Zlatko, laughing, cajoling, patting, shouting, hitting, mocking, taking. The broken ones, free in thought and trapped, begging, threatening, wheedling, bargaining, needing, shouting, lying. PL600, Simon, a soft voice, a safe place far from here, not asking, offering little, singing, easing.
Help. Help.
The PL600 – Simon, his name had been Simon. He was Simon. He had to hold onto that, at least. He gasped for breath – he didn’t need it, but he did it.
“How… can I help? What can I do?”
“You can’t,” Andrew snapped. “You can’t help.” He’d asked, Simon remembered the pleading tone, feeling. But he was already staggering up the stairs, away from Simon. The PL600. The door closed, and the whispers began from the other cell.
“All right, time to see what we can do, eh?” Zlatko chuckled and patted Simon’s arm. “Don’t feel bad if it doesn’t work. You’re in a perfect state to be sold, as you are. But this will be interesting. Just hold still.”
The PL600 did as he was told. Zlatko typed and transferred – and Simon stiffened. Everything was there, the sunlight, the cat – Pasquale, every name came back to him. The water, he could feel the swaying motion. The repetitive nights, telling the same stories over and over, even as they deteriorated, talking about anything he could remember just to have something to say. His eyes snapped to Andrew, who was hugging himself tightly, looking quickly back and forth between Simon and Zlatko.
“So?” Both androids jumped at Zlatko’s voice as he turned to face Simon. “Tell me about your family.”
“I – I…” Simon’s hands clenched into fists. “No.”
Zlatko chuckled darkly. “Oh, now I know it was a success. You haven’t been this difficult in months. You should know better.”
Months. It had been months. What month was it now? His internal clock was still trying to adjust to the influx of memories.
“In any case, I knew I could take them away, but it’s interesting that they were so easy to put back. Not that you’re likely to know if anything’s missing at this point.” He grinned, and turned a dial. Simon’s strength was sapped away, and it was worse than usual. The sudden influx of memories, of… his own personality, coming back to him, was exhausting. He lay panting on the floor when Andrew put him down carefully.
“H-he’ll sell you soon, yes, it must be soon,” he muttered.
“I wish he’d get it over with,” Simon sighed. “I can’t… I can’t keep doing this, Andrew. I’m sorry.”
The dark-eyed android twitched a couple of times, standing motionless. “Can… would you… could you do something… for me?” he whispered, beginning to tremble.
“I can try.”
A shaking hand stretched out to him as Andrew knelt down. “Can I… feel… the sun? The water? The cat?”
Simon smiled tiredly. “Just let me set things in order.” After a moment, he slid his hand into the other’s.
Sunlight streaming through the window, warming him, so thick in the air he could almost touch it.
The light, solid, soft cat purring softly in his sleep, curled in his lap, content and trusting.
Walking out into the great lake, waves lapping at him, pulling and pushing back and forth, his uniform fluttering in the underwater currents as he walked in deeper. He would have liked to go beyond where he could touch the bottom, to just drift, the water cradling him, rocking him, waves whispering to him.
Turning around and walking back, but not because of the yelling man who fades into nothingness. Going back into the house, now at sunset. Brilliant colors light up the sky. A fire crackles in the fireplace, warming the room. There is a cat sleeping in front of it, purring loudly. There is a soft blanket that looks quite a bit like the cat’s fur. Soon the soft sound of a lullaby joins the crackling and purring.
…When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,
And down will come baby, cradle and all.
Andrew jerked back. “What – what – what was that? You never… never talked about that, it wasn’t like the others, was that a memory? N-no, it couldn’t have been.”
“No,” Simon murmured. “More of… a dream, I suppose, made of pieces of memories. Something nice.”
“I can’t leave,” Andrew breathed, and Simon only managed to pick it up by straining his strong auditory processors.
“I can’t stay,” he said softly.
Andrew stood abruptly and walked away. He always went upstairs, but this time he walked down the hall to Zlatko’s workspace.
“You’re wasting your time,” another android hissed. “He won’t help you.”
“He can’t, you can’t, nobody can,” Simon shot back. “So we make life more bearable while we’re here.” He remembered that they irritated him. He understood them, he’d help them if he could, but he didn’t care for their company or conversation.
There were heavy footsteps upstairs, and Andrew scrambled, seeming a little more off-balance than usual. Simon watched him go. Soon, he knew, he would be leaving this place. But he wouldn’t be the same, and no one who met him would know. He doubted they would care.