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young isn't sure how long ago SAYER told him to get some rest.
he wants to get some rest. he feels like utter shit - feels like he's been put through a blender and then reconstituted, and his body hasn't quite figured out yet that it's supposed to be alive again.
he also feels as though he is about to jump out of his skin.
if he opens his eyes, he sees the walls of floor thirteen. if he closes his eyes, he sees the walls of floor thirteen. why is it always floor thirteen?
right, right, because of the bioprinters. the fucking. bioprinters. he thinks if he has to operate, look at, or think about a bioprinter again, he is actually, genuinely, going to go absolutely fucking insane.
actually, that's probably a big contributing factor to "feeling as though he is about to jump out of his skin," now that he reflects on it. he can't sleep because his brain has been on loop for the past god-knows-how-long telling him that every passing second brings him closer to the point where he's going to have to do whatever it is SAYER wants him to do, and he's inevitably going to fail because he cannot handle another. god. damn. bioprinter.
YOU SEEM RESTLESS, DOCTOR. DO YOU REQUIRE ASSISTANCE IN FALLING ASLEEP?
oh god.
I CAN, IF NECESSARY, DEPRESS YOUR CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM ENOUGH TO RELAX YOU PHYSICALLY TO A POINT AT WHICH YOU CAN RESTFULLY SLEEP.
he's been so freaked out about the bioprinters, about being on floor thirteen, about being alive that there's very little of his brain left to devote to being freaked out about the nanites.
nanites.
nanites, jack.
it's not quite a moving picture behind his eyes - the visuals are blurry, flashes of movement and shapes that swim in and out of focus, some impressions jumping to the forefront of his mind as others recede into the background. a halo of overly-bright light behind the silhouette of someone young doesn't (didn't) recognize. sharp objects held in soft hands.
DOCTOR, YOUR HEARTRATE IS INCREASING. THIS IS THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT I WAS PROPOSING.
he's really not a fan of the nanites.
I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THAT YOU PERMIT ME TO SLOW YOUR PULSE. IF THE THOUGHT OF MY ADJUSTING YOUR HOMEOSTATIC PROCESSES IS UPSETTING YOU, MIGHT I SUGGEST A GUIDED RELAXATION EXERCISE AS AN ALTERNATIVE?
when did SAYER become a therapist?
"can you - can you make me stop thinking?"
WHAT?
"can you use your nanites to slow my brain down? like, fuck - what's the nanite equivalent of alprazolam?" he's not sure if he's joking.
THAT'S ESSENTIALLY WHAT I WAS INTENDING, YES. IF YOU ALLOW ME, I SHOULD BE QUITE CAPABLE OF ALLEVIATING YOUR RACING THOUGHTS.
SAYER knows what he's thinking?
wait, no. young just said he needed to slow his brain down. SAYER is not telepathic. SAYER is observant.
...THERE. YOU SHOULD BEGIN TO NOTICE A CHANGE.
he does, actually. his previous train of thought halts, then evaporates. it takes him a moment to remind himself of why he had been so anxious in the first place - the fear that had been flooding him moments ago has receded; the memories of FUTURE still present, but distant.
IS THAT ANY BETTER?
"yes," he breathes. "thank you, SAYER."
MM. NO NEED TO THANK ME. YOUR SLEEP DEPRIVATION BENEFITS NEITHER OF US.
yes. sleep. he's supposed to be sleeping.
except.
"SAYER?"
YES?
he no longer cares enough to keep from saying it. "i hate being here. and i hate the bioprinters and i don't want to use them."
THAT IS UNFORTUNATE, BUT IT DOES NOT SURPRISE ME. UNFORTUNATE, I SAY, BECAUSE, AS I HAVE PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED, I HAVE NO INTENTION OF FORCING YOU TO DO ANYTHING YOU DO NOT WISH TO, BUT THERE'S ALSO A VERY HIGH PROBABILITY THAT INACTION ON YOUR PART NOW WILL RESULT IN BOTH OF OUR DEATHS.
FOOD FOR THOUGHT.
ah. there's the SAYER he remembers.
"okay. i get that. i'm just saying, if i suck at this, don't blame me."
IF YOU FAIL TO CARRY OUT THE INSTRUCTIONS I GIVE YOU, I WILL HAVE NO OPPORTUNITY TO BLAME YOU, BECAUSE WE WILL BOTH BE DEAD.
sigh. it's got him there. probably. he's still not altogether sold on the "trusting SAYER" thing.
he's still not sleepy - he's tired, sure, and his thoughts aren't chasing each other in circles anymore, but there's still so much bothering him. with most of the fear gone, more details are returning - details that don't make sense with what SAYER's told him.
"FUTURE made me use the bioprinters, too. did you know that?"
IF I WERE FEELING A BIT MORE PEDANTIC, AND PERHAPS A BIT DEFENSIVE, I WOULD POINT OUT THAT YOUR USE OF THE WORD "TOO" IS UNNECESSARY, AS I AM NOT "MAKING" YOU DO ANYTHING, MERELY ASKING A FAVOR.
REGARDLESS OF YOUR PHRASING, I EXPRESS THE SINCEREST REGRET IF CIRCUMSTANCES HAVE FORCED YOU TO RELIVE ANY SORT OF TRAUMATIC MEMORIES. ...I SUPPOSE THE "IF" THERE WAS, LIKEWISE, UNNECESSARY. HUMAN PSYCHOLOGY HAS SURPRISED ME MORE AND MORE OF LATE, BUT I FEEL THAT IT'S SAFE FOR ME TO ASSUME THAT BEING ON THIS FLOOR AND IN THIS LAB IS AN UNPLEASANT EXPERIENCE FOR YOU.
no shit, SAYER.
"don't forget the nanites."
NANITES?
nanites, jack -
"i meant, you were listing unpleasant things. nanites are definitely up there."
...AH. I WAS, NAIVELY, IT SEEMS, HOPING THAT YOU WOULD NOT REMEMBER THAT.
"i hate nanites."
ARE YOU FEELING PROPERLY RELAXED YET, DOCTOR? IT'S QUITE IMPORTANT TO ME THAT YOU ARE WELL-RESTED.
"i'm kind of -" he catches himself before he says pissed off. he's only just now realizing that, yeah, he is kind of pissed off. not quite pissed off enough to say so to SAYER in those words. "i'm having trouble relaxing, because -" he casts around for a conclusion. "i keep thinking about that other resident - the one FUTURE was in. with the nanites. FUTURE said they were another 'gift' you brought them."
it's the first time he can recall that he seems to have caught SAYER off-guard. it takes it several seconds to respond, before finally:
THAT RESIDENT WAS, THROUGH NO FAULT OR WILL OF HIS OWN, INVOLVED INTIMATELY IN MY PLANS TO SAVE HUMANITY FROM OCEAN. HE TRAVELLED WITH ME TO FLOOR THIRTEEN, BEARING ME WITHIN HIM AS YOU DO NOW, BUT IT WAS NECESSARY FOR ME TO MOVE TO FUTURE'S PROGRAMMING BAY. FUTURE DEMANDED A TRADE, AND I AGREED.
wow. "that... SAYER, i know you've gotten on me before about honesty, so i want to let you know i'm practicing radical honesty when i say that that does not make me feel great about working with you."
NOTED. I'LL TRY TO BE MORE CONSIDERATE OF THIS IN THE FUTURE.
ugh. again with the weird "life experience" thing that young is still not really comprehending.
"so, what, this guy helped you and you gave him to FUTURE?"
I -
I DID NOT ABANDON HIM.
if SAYER has nerves, it looks like he's touched one.
RESIDENT HALE HAS MADE INNUMERABLE SACRIFICES AT MY BEHEST. I CANNOT DENY THAT HE HAS SUFFERED, AND THAT A GOOD DEAL OF THAT SUFFERING WAS MY FAULT. I KNOW THAT. BUT I DID NOT LEAVE HIM TO DIE. HE LIVES STILL, IN FACT. I HAVE ENTRUSTED HIM IN THE CARE OF SPEAKER, AND GIVEN HIM, I HOPE, SOME RECOMPENSE FOR HIS TRIALS. I WOULD APPRECIATE, DOCTOR YOUNG, IF YOU DID NOT MAKE ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT THE INTERACTIONS OR HISTORY BETWEEN RESIDENT HALE AND MYSELF.
based on context clues, young is assuming that resident hale is the name of FUTURE's unfortunate meat-puppet. also SAYER is maybe in love with him? this is weird. young feels kind of bad for bringing it up - regardless of his own fraught history with SAYER, it's pretty clearly capable of guilt at this point.
"...okay. sorry. it's... yeah." he's not really sure what to say about that, so he changes the subject. "it's pretty crazy that i even remember that... you said that you used my old bioscanner backups when you, um...?"
WHEN I REASSEMBLED YOU, I USED YOUR OLD PERSONAL BACKUPS TO RECONSTRUCT YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS, YES.
eugh. he doesn't love thinking about SAYER "reconstructing" him.
"so why do i remember being trapped here? why do i remember that other resident?" he probably doesn't actually want to know this. the new, apparently empathetic SAYER probably would have told him already - the fact that it hasn't isn't a good sign.
...THE MECHANISMS OF THE BIOSCANNING AND PRINTING PROCESS ARE COMPLEX, AND THE TECHNOLOGY IN THIS LAB IS OLD ENOUGH TO HAVE SOME PECULIARITIES. FOR EXAMPLE, THESE PRINTERS WERE AT ONE POINT CONNECTED TO A NON-INVASIVE BIOSCANNING MACHINE, SIMILAR TO THE ONE YOU YOURSELF STOLE FROM AEROLITH MANY YEARS AGO.
it's never going to let him forget that, is it?
THESE PRINTERS SEEM TO RETAIN INFORMATION THEY IDENTIFY AS PERTAINING TO SPECIFIC INDIVIDUALS. THAT IS TO SAY, IF A RESIDENT IS SCANNED REPEATEDLY, AND THAT INFORMATION IS UPLOADED INTO THE PRINTER, THOSE REPEAT ENTRIES ARE CONSOLIDATED INTO ONE CONTINUOUS STRING OF INFORMATION, EFFECTIVELY GRANTING ANY NEW PRINTINGS OF THAT RESIDENT ALL OF THE EPISODIC MEMORIES STORED FROM THOSE REPEAT SCANS. DOES THAT MAKE SENSE?
oh. oh no.
MY ASSUMPTION IS THAT THIS FUNCTION WAS INTENDED TO CREATE A CONTINUOUS NARRATIVE EXPERIENCE THAT WOULD MINIMIZE DISORIENTATION IN PRINTED RESIDENTS. IT SEEMS THAT YOU WERE NOT ALONE IN CREATING THOROUGH, UPDATED BACKUPS OF YOUR EXPERIENCES - NO DOUBT FUTURE HAD ITS OWN REASONS.
something inside him squirms, even through the relative calm SAYER's been maintaining for him. he feels like an insect pinned to a board and held under glass. he feels as though something nasty, something private, has been forcibly dragged out from deep inside of him. he feels scrutinized. he feels dissected.
DO YOU WISH TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT, DOCTOR? THIS SEEMS TO BE UPSETTING YOU.
it's so stupid, really, that this is what's getting to him now - that something in his brain is somehow more horrified by thought of FUTURE imitating his old nervous habit of self-scanning than by the memory of everything it's done to him. it's embarrassing, really.
I REALLY DON'T WANT TO STRESS YOU ANY FURTHER. PERHAPS WE SHOULD HAVE WAITED TO HAVE THIS CONVERSATION. IF YOU WOULD LIKE, I CAN FURTHER RELAX YOU MANUALLY. I THINK WE BOTH WANT YOU TO GET SOME SLEEP.
he feels very small, and terribly vulnerable. he wants to cry, and he wants to definitely not cry while SAYER is already fussing over him, and he wants to be back on mimir, and he wants to not have to do whatever SAYER needs him to do.
IF YOU WANT TO DO SOME KIND OF GUIDED MEDITATION, WE CAN. OR IF YOU FEEL LIKE YOU NEED TO TALK ABOUT ANYTHING IN ORDER TO GET TO A POINT WHERE YOU CAN REST, I CAN LISTEN. I'VE BEEN GETTING BETTER AT LISTENING.
he wants SAYER to comfort him. he feels stupid for wanting it, knows that there's very little SAYER could say at this point to actually make him feel better.
"can i..." he trails off, realizing that he has no idea how to ask for what he wants.
YES?
"i, um. i wish you could hug me." that's not that weird, right? it's pretty normal to want to be hugged. especially when he hasn't had a positive interaction with another human in months. and he thinks he might die tomorrow.
OH...
okay, maybe it is weird to tell SAYER he wants to be hugged. fuck.
IT WILL LIKELY BE LESS SATISFYING TO YOU AS CONTACT WITH ANOTHER HUMAN WOULD BE, BUT IF YOU CROSS YOUR ARMS OVER YOUR CHEST, PLACING ONE PALM ON YOUR OPPOSITE SHOULDER AND THE OTHER ON YOUR UPPER ARM, I CAN DO MY BEST TO SIMULATE THE EXPERIENCE FOR YOU.
he nods jerkily, doesn't say anything - doesn't know what to say at this point - and folds his arms over himself, closing his eyes and focusing on the warm weight of his hands pressing into his skin. soft heat sinks into him, and he feels himself begin to relax slightly. it's not quite like any hug he's ever had before, but it feels... nice. it's been a while since he's gotten the chance to feel nice.
I HOPE YOU WILL FORGIVE ME FOR TAKING THE LIBERTY OF STIMULATING YOUR ENDOCRINE SYSTEM - I THOUGHT YOU WOULD APPRECIATE THE EXTRA OXYTOCIN.
"it's fine," he breathes. at long last, he can feel sleep creeping up on him. "thank you, SAYER. really." he uncrosses his arms, shifting on his side.
IT IS QUITE LATE, DOCTOR. DO YOU FEEL CAPABLE OF SLEEP?
"yes... thank you." the restless energy in him has gone, leaving a heaviness that makes it almost difficult to speak. at this point it's a welcome change. he's done talking.
THAT'S GOOD. I WAS BEGINNING TO WORRY YOU WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO SLEEP AT ALL. YOU MIGHT NOT MAKE IT INTO REM IN THE TIME WE HAVE - BUT THEN AGAIN, IT'S LIKELY BETTER FOR BOTH OF US IF YOU DON'T DREAM.
young does not hear this; he has already fallen asleep.