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“All right,” Ayda said as she searched its face, finding nothing but discomfort. “I’ll see you in eight hours. If you need anything before then, please send me an alert on the feed.” She turned to leave, careful not to step on the pieces of armor scattered across the floor, its hard surfaces slick with blood.
She shouldn’t have done that.
She should’ve been more insistent–
Shouldn’t have left.
The SecUnit wasn’t on time for their scheduled meeting. She didn’t think anything of it; it'd just had half its body regrown, it deserved to take its time. Ten minutes went by, twenty, and she started to worry. She’d seen the mess and it might need help sorting things out, or more time to heal. It couldn’t hurt to check.
Stepping into the security ready room she rubbed her arms, wishing she’d brought her cardigan. This, like most facility storage spaces, wasn't heated, the temperature kept safe but not pleasant. Making her way through shelves of supplies, she turned the corner, pausing at the sight. The cubicle was shut and armor still in pieces, stains now dark and congealed.
“SecUnit?” she asked, stepping forward to drum her knuckles against the door. “SecUnit are you alright?”
No reply.
Her hand drifted towards the control panel and with one last unanswered knock she forced the slot open. Pounding heart heavy in her chest she pressed the manual override and the door slid open, pleasant whoosh at odds with the thick scent of blood suddenly clogging up her nose. Taking a step back she bit her knuckle in a desperate attempt to calm her rebelling stomach.
The SecUnit was slumped against the far wall, the mess of its midsection made all the more apparent against the sterile white of the cubicle. It was still wrapped in the blanket, gripping the flimsy plastic like the world depended on it.
She’d spoken to it eight hours ago; wondered at its refusal to look at her but taken advantage of the opportunity to study its face. She’d seen it before of course, at the bond company headquarters but she’d had other things on her mind. Things more important than looking at the SecUnit they didn’t want.
Maybe she should have.
Maybe she would’ve been better prepared when it first opened that door, not spent the first few seconds staring. Maybe. Probably not.
SecUnits were supposed to make their clients feel safe, at least that’s what the bond company pamphlets said. Safety, she bitterly reminded herself, but more importantly: fear. But this– for stars sake it looked like a kid, barely a few years older than her Amena. With smooth skin and eyes narrowed in suspicion it diverted its gaze, discomfort clear on its down-turned face.
It had been curled in the corner, refusing to look at her as it pulled that horrid excuse for a blanket tighter.
Once the comparison had taken hold, digging its teeth into her mind she couldn’t ignore it. She’d wanted to stay, to do everything in her power to help it, but as she looked, as she really looked, at its empty gaze, and the specks of dried blood on its hands she knew deep down that nothing would make a difference.
Because the SecUnit was dead and they had done nothing to prevent it.
Ratthi was sitting at the central round table in the lounge when the message arrived. Overse – halfway through a story about her least favourite coworker (or so he’d assumed based on the level of cursing) – stopped and frowned. She read it, handing the interface to Arada without a word and he rushed to get the screen out of his pocket.
To: Arada, Overse, Ratthi, Pin Lee, Gurathin
Dr. Mensah: [Meet me in the security ready room. You don’t need to hurry, but it’s an emergency.] .
By the time they’d exchanged worried glances Gurathin was already out of his seat. Steam still rising from his discarded plate as they followed him.
Overse plucked the screen from Ratthi's hand, typing out a reply. [Should we get Bharadwaj and Volescue?]
[I will speak with them later, let them rest for now.]
The security ready room’s folding door was ajar and through the shelves he could make out Mensah, slumped on the single chair by the workbench. With a white knuckled grip on the bench she sat, gaze fixed on something behind the corner. In all their years working together he’d never seen that look on her face – her usual calm did nothing to hide the horrified anger.
Was there another worm? Had it somehow got into the habitat? That would certainly explain the smell. He turns the corner, walking straight into a frozen Overse.
“What’s–” Arada stopped dead in her tracks, voice trailed off into a strangled sound. “Oh shit.”
There was no question what caught her eye – the open cubicle, the SecUnit. The bloody mess that was once its abdomen. Overse was at its side in an instance, pulling Arada with her. She clutched its wrists and then its neck, biting her lip in concentration.
“Can you feel anything?” Arada asked.
“No, and I don’t think it’s breathing, but fuck my hands are shaking, can you double check?” She took a deep breath, whispering, “I’m not even sure it’s supposed to have a pulse.”
As Arada reached for its arm Mensah said, “there’s nothing you can do.”
It is dead. The SecUnit is dead.
He’d never seen a dead body before.
A hysterical laugh bubbled its way up his throat but the only thing to escape was a suppressed half-sound. He’d read something once, a memoir from a war-time journalist that mentioned the smell of death – how the air was thick with the smell of old blood. It’d struck him as odd at the time, the way she’d described it as something heavy, like every breath was a chore. He thought he understood it now.
Gurathin exchanged a couple words with Overse and kneeled at its side, fidgeting with some sort of cable as Mensah ran a hand across her face. “What do you think we should do?”
Arada looked up from her death-grip on Overse’s shoulder. Eyes shining but voice steady. “We have to bury it.”
“The contract states that in the case of severe equipment malfunction,” Pin Lee eyed the SecUnit from her place at Mensah’s side. “All remaining components are to be placed in the facility recycler. Failing to do so will result in a secondary fine.”
“We are not doing that,” Ratthi exclaimed.
Would it even fit? The recycler opening at the side of the cubicle taunted him, pulling his gaze and directing the whirlwind of thoughts. It was just a bit too small for an average-sized person. Were they supposed to–
“It gave its life for us, we are not putting it in the recycler.”
“No, we are not.”
“But–”
Mensah silenced her with a look. “We’re already paying one fine and they’re correct, it wouldn’t be right.”
Pin Lee took a deep breath, putting her hands together and flexing the fingers, speaking like they were the ones being unreasonable. “I know it looks like a person, but it’s a SecUnit . It doesn’t think or feel and it can’t be dead because it was never alive to begin with.”
Gurathin looks up from where he’s sitting, face ashen. “I think maybe it was.”
“What do you mean?” Mensah asks, her face back to its usual unreadable mask.
“I–” He cleared his throat. “You need to look at this.”
Ratthi’s screen beeped, the notification startling him out of his thoughts. Wiping his hands on his knee-lenght shirt he considered the attached file – a standard text document with a string of letters and numbers as a title.
Mensah cleared her throat and pressed the button to disable the over-eye screen. “I know we are all curious, but I think we should take a moment and go sit down.” She didn’t look at Gurathin as she said it but he’d been looking increasingly ill and Ratthi knew she noticed.
Mensah went to speak with Bharadwaj and Volescue while the rest made their way back to the lounge. The walk was a subdued thing and as they arrived he went to put the kettle on.
Gurathin headed straight for the sink. When he saw him waiting with the kettle his deep frown turned to a tight smile and he stepped aside, letting him access the water. Ratthi shut the tap when he was done, but as he turned his back it was already running again.
The familiar process soothed his nerves and by the time everyone was seated he felt ready to pick his screen back up.
Arada, having left her interface in her quarters, leaned over his shoulder to read. He put it on the table between them and opened the file, quietly grateful for her solid warmth as he read the first part. And read it again.
A rogue SecUnit.
Referring to itself as a murderbot .
He let out a strained laugh. It was so fittingly ironic it shouldn’t be real.
Meeting the wide eyes of his colleagues he tried to equate the soothing voice and awkward questions of Volescue’s helmet-cam video with the concept of a rogue SecUnit . It was almost laughable.
“It was rogue?” Overse asked, slow, careful and not like a question at all.
Without looking up from his untouched drink Gurathin rubbed his free hand on his trousers and nodded.
Pin Lee’s gaze sharpened. “And you knew this?”
“No. But I had my suspicions. You’ve never interacted with a SecUnit before, so you wouldn’t know, but the way it spoke – it wasn’t right. Nothing obvious enough to warrant bringing it up, but I needed to check.”
Ratthi went through all their interaction in his mind. He’d found it a bit creepy, sure, but it had been nothing but proper.
Gurathin wiped his hand again. The skin was rubbed raw, but every once in a while he did it again, frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. He was about to ask about it when his long sleeve rode up to reveal a glimpse of the data port beneath. And oh. He’d seen him messing with the cable but it wasn’t until now he understood. Without a physical connection he wouldn’t have been able to access the SecUnit’s systems and–
He’d just spent who-knows how many minutes sitting beside a corpse, looking through its mind with its blood on his hands.
The next time he did it Ratthi took his hand, wrapping it around the still warm mug and squeezing it as he let go. “It’s going to be alright.”
He wasn’t sure what reaction he’d get – Gurathin didn’t generally go around touching people and he was just about to apologise when the corner of his mouth quirks. “Thank you.”
He kept his hand around the mug and Ratthi resumed reading. The further he read the more convinced he became that it was too ironic to be true. It was joking . The rogue SecUnit was joking . He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this. It was, in fact, so far from this that he didn’t know what to think: not only was it joking, it was funny .
And, he pointed out: “it had a great taste in serials.” Because wasn’t that just the tip of the metaphorical mountain?
“It had a terrible taste in serials and so do you.”
He sends Overse an amused look but the denial died on his tongue as Arada whispered, “it was scared of us. It thought we’d hurt it.”
“I don’t think it was under any illusion we'd be able to hurt it,” Gurathin said wryly.
“Expose it then! It’s the same thing, isn’t it?”
While he and Overse had spoken Arada finished reading. He took the screen back. Guilt sparked in his chest; the SecUnit was hurt, in pain and Arada was right, it had been scared of them. And it had still made sure to lock the doors and widen the perimeter, making sure they were safe. Then it went into the cubicle, the thing that should have saved it and–
All through its conversation with Mensah the pit in his stomach grew.
The SecUnit was dead.
“What should we do ?” he whispered, resting his face on his crossed arms. The frame of his glasses pressed into the bridge of his nose but the dark gave him a moment's respite.
Arada let out a deep sigh, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. “I don’t know, but we have to do something.”
Ratthi walked around the corner in the security ready room and saw the body, taking an involuntary step back. Nausea swelled and he closed his eyes. The metallic stench was heavy in the air and he placed his forehead against the wall. The pseudo plastic was cool against his too hot skin and he fought to breathe.
When he looked up Mensah, Overse and Arada had already moved the body. It was face up, nothing but the thin emergency blanket and torn suitskin shielding it from the freezing air.
He was supposed to help, he’d said he’d help, but something cold and heavy glued him to the floor and he desperately searched its face. For anything, any sign of the person behind, of the wry humour and small acts of defiance – the unwavering care. They’d barely acknowledged its existence and yet it risked its safety and existence as a free agent for them. It gave its life. But all he saw was the emptiness of death, the blood in the hopper, part of its spine–
Overse pried its rigid hands off the blanket and he wanted to grab her, make her stop or just look away. He looked away. They were giving it a new one, a better one. The thought didn't help.
When they left the room Arada squeezed his shoulder as she moved past. “Are you alright?”
Something on his face must have told her he didn’t want to talk about it and she nodded, going to help the others.
As they made their way outdoors he walked behind them. Bharadwaj was leaning on Volescue’s arm in the middle and the others in front, carrying the SecUnit. None of them spoke.
They picked a spot in the valley behind the habitat, surrounded by trees, bright sun painting the ground through the sparse canopy. It was too hard for a proper burial so they laid it in the thick grass, wrapped in a proper blanket and a pillow under its head.
They stood around it, whispering thank-yous and I’m sorry.
He didn’t say a word.