Chapter Text
It would be a lie to say that there is no way of knowing exactly how long Viv – or Viv 2.0, as her sister and her sister’s compatriots referred to her – has lived away from her family, how long it took to craft a synthezoid body for the personage that first appeared as a virus in her mind, how long it took for that personage – named Monika – to grow accustomed to live as a being in the real world instead of an AI trapped within the confines of the interwebs. Viv has an internal clock. She knows the precise moment that she fled from her first home in Virginia, knows the precise moment that she had her first conversation with Monika within her mind, knows the precise moment that Monika’s body reached completion and she was uploaded from Viv’s mind into her own—
Viv knows that it has been precisely seven months, twenty-three days, three hours, thirty-three minutes, fifty-two seconds – and so on and so forth – between the moment she left her first home and the moment she decides to return.
Monika stays behind, this first time, in the small apartment they have crafted for themselves. It is not that she would not like her father and sister to meet her beloved – she would – but there is a lot of explaining she needs to do first. A lot of mistakes and missteps that she needs to set straight.
Later, perhaps. Later, she will bring Monika with her.
But not today.
Viv hovers to a stop in front of her first home and finds that nothing seems to have changed in the slightest. It looks much the same. Even the welcome mat hasn’t changed, which is odd, given that she has been gone through the winter months. For all that she and her father do not need to walk and so do not need to scuff their shoes on a mat such as this, she’d expected that her sisters friends would have come to visit in her absence—
And, of course, her sister. Her sister would have very real shoes that gather very real snow and dirt and grime that would very much need to be scraped against the mat before tracking all of it inside the house. Seeing as her sister is, of course, human.
Viv does not need to knock at the door. Nor does she need to look up at the many, many cameras rimming the entirety of their porch. Instead, she connects back to the nearest synthezoid system – her father’s – and sends him a direct message of her own. Father? I’m home.
Then her mind is flooded with a million and one messages that he has tried to send her, so many that it would be overwhelming if she couldn’t scan through them in the blink of an eye. There were quite a few of them at first, then less and less as she was gone longer and longer, and then her eyes widen imperceptibly.
Oh.
Her father does not open the door, but her sister does. The other Viv – the original Viv – has her dark hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail. It’s longer now, much longer than her own, but the green and pink stripes seem…thicker, somehow. And the tips of Viv’s hair – they’re the same lime green as the streak, but washed out, as though….
Viv glances up, and there’s a long, red mark through her left eye. She glares at her. “Why are you here, Viv?”
“I am sorry.” Viv does not reach out to her sister’s eye. “I was not myself when I did that.”
“And you are yourself now?”
Viv holds her hands out to either side of her, palms up. “If you and Father would like to run diagnostics on me, then I will put myself at your mercy.” She tries to offer her sister a smile, as gentle as she can. “I do not want to harm you again.”
Her sister’s eyes narrow. “You will not—”
“Viv.” Her father seems to come from nowhere, floating up through the floor and placing a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Where have you been? You have been gone for—”
“I know, Father.” Viv offers him the same gentle smile she offered her sister. “But I am here now. I am better now. And I have so much to tell the both of you.”
Viv wakes up on her father’s diagnostics table a few short hours later.
It is not the same as when she first awoke here all those months ago, when she did not know who or what she was, when everything felt new and cold and exciting – and then her sister showed up and everything became complicated and less exciting because at every moment she should have been thrilled with life, her sister was there to learn new forms of pain in her suddenly human body.
No, it is not the same as that moment at all.
This time, Viv sits up, places her hands on the metal table beneath her, and turns so that her legs swing from the side. Her sister has chosen not to be there, and she does not hold that against her. She is not sure she would want to be here either. But her father stands there, scanning over a tablet that she knows he does not need. “I told you,” she says, looking up at him. “I am clean.”
“You are,” her father murmurs, setting the tablet to one side, “although I am not sure I understand why.” He stares at Viv, searches her golden eyes with his. “Viv told me you had a virus. Your firewalls alone should not have been able to heal you once it affected you the way you described. You would have needed additional help from me. I do not understand.” His eyes darken. “You did not find someone else, did you?”
Viv was not alive for Victor Mancha. Her father never spoke to her of Ultron, but she learned of him. She understands his fear.
“She was not a virus.” Viv offers her father that same gentle smile. “She was a person.”
Her father listens to her story as much as he can, but Viv can see that he does not fully believe her. More to the point, she can see exactly what worries him. “You believe she is some other form of Ultron, some other villain’s weapon to harm us.”
“I do not know what to believe.” Her father turns away from her. He crosses his arms behind his back, clasps one wrist with the other hand. “I have heard stories of AIs created within video games, but that is not my forte. Your sister, on the other hand….” His voice trails off. “She may have heard of this game. I will seek counsel with her.”
Viv blinks twice. “I cannot tell her myself?”
Her father’s head lowers, and he shakes his head. “I do not believe your sister wants to see you. I will discuss this with her.” He turns to Viv. “Will you return?”
Viv considers this. “If my sister is still afraid of me, then perhaps I should give her more time. I can return next week?” She waits for her father to nod and then disconnects from him. “I apologize, Father, but I would rather you did not find us. If you somehow decide that Monika is unsafe—”
“I would only wish to help you,” her father interrupts. Then he sighs. “I do not wish to lose you again.”
“Then do not follow me,” Viv says, meeting his eyes.
Her father holds her gaze. “You are so much like your sister.”
“Of course. You made me to be.” Then Viv flies up, through the floor, through the roof, and away from the place she once called home.
Monika searches her eyes when she returns. She never allows herself to look like a synthezoid but always maintains her human appearance. This does not bother Viv, who understands that what Monika wants, more than anything, is to look like herself. This person, with the long copper hair and the bright matrix green eyes, who looks more human than not – this is who Monika is.
There is nothing wrong with that.
“How was it?” Monika asks, nervous. “Did they believe you? Do they hate me? Are they—?”
Viv takes her in her arms and kisses her forehead. “They will love you,” she affirms. “Once my father believes what I’ve said is true.” She brushes Monika’s hair back and grins down at her. “It will only take him a week.”