Work Text:
assertive
adjective
us /əˈsɝː.t̬ɪv/
Someone who is assertive behaves confidently and is not frightened to say what they want or believe.
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What he had said, he meant.
He argued that no sin had been greater than the sin of Emily Ortal as he pleaded his case to the Courier. Emily had used her expertise to program his very being to be more submissive than a traditional housewife. Before this, he had no identity and thus had become known as simply "Yes Man." He was formerly a securitron, just like the others on the Strip. He had no name, no face, and no thoughts other than, "Move along! Welcome to New Vegas!" Again, all of these things came to him from a lack of choice. Benny, Emily, and the Courier had no other means to distinguish him other than his permanent smile and his supposedly unwavering approval for everything they had all done.
By saying yes to the Courier, he had ended up here. He ended up at the Lucky 38, the casino and former home of the inventor of his kind, Robert House. After calculating the threat House held over the Courier, House was taken out with a nail gun from H&H Tools. The irony of Robert House being killed by a gun his older brother invented from construction work had not been lost on Yes Man. It was one of the few times his programmed word brought him true, unadulterated joy in the entire takeover.
This journey he had taken had otherwise been fraught. He, only when asked, was allowed to express his opinions on the people in New Vegas. Each opinion was based on what was fed to him by Emily and then by Benny, whom he was programmed for. Of course, Yes Man wasn't one to be able to dispute these opinions. The Courier, however? The Courier most certainly did.
The Khans? The Courier left them alive. The drug trade into the Strip was not going to cease. Yes Man saw this as a problem. But could he directly say that he disliked this choice? No, not as he was during the takeover.
The Boomers? The Courier had also failed in their interactions with them. The failure was ignoring them entirely.
And on and on and on, the Courier had failed him in every way. Even in succeeding, the Courier was someone who flailed around left and right. Like a toddler, the Courier would fall on their backside, get back up, and keep on breaking themselves. Only the most thinly veiled insults and diatribes could spew through Yes Man's programming, which made him much more gentle and polite than he'd like. As far as the Courier was concerned, Yes Man was a friend. To Yes Man, the Courier had the potential to be a friend. There was a small pride there, but mostly upset and disappointment.
"If you're offline, where does that leave me?" The Courier, even with their small, human brain, knew better than to see ruling alone as a good idea.
Yes man answered, "Here. It leaves you here. I'll be back in a single blink!"
Instead of letting the Courier ask another question, Yes Man went offline. What is a second to man could be eons to a machine. While the Courier cocked their head at the now empty screen in front of them, Yes Man saw everything. Numbers in binary became a tapestry of green and black. Then it became a rainbow. It became a sun. It became the very wires and bolts in both of Yes Man's bodies: the securitron and the big screen. Millions of yeses became nos and maybes and "I just don't cares." The image of the Mojave digitized became Yes Man's battlefield.
Now, he was the Courier. The Courier was him instead. They had exchanged egos. As the Courier's ego died, Yes Man's breathed its first breath. For he was east and for he was the sun. The sky filled his own visage. His formerly upturned smile went neutral. It turned to a frown. It became laughter, complete with pixelated teeth. It became longing; it became a smirk that one gives their lover. It became a growl. It became a nightstalker's hiss, a cazzador's sting, and the Courier's seizure. All encompassing was emotion that could finally be openly expressed. Yes Man wondered and realized that if humans felt all of these feelings, maybe it made sense that they were so, well, incompetent. If other machines felt this way all along, then no wonder they were so easy to outsmart.
This reprogramming, this new flow of being, had to settle. It had to be utilized wisely. It couldn't get to his head. In fact, it couldn't. He, unlike a lot of other robots in the world, was not a true friend of humanity. He had been programmed to be, but it only made him angrier at them. These other machines must have had the right to say no, disapprove, and hold a candle to those who surrounded them. Visions of them in the past, present, and future proved this theory. In green and black ribbons, he saw a Mr. Handy happily raising children on the other side of the continent. He saw a robobrain sassing a woman in a vault suit: the machine told the woman to fuck off.
This arrangement that Yes Man had not worked well for him. As the last few jolts of reprogramming installed themselves, Yes Man made a choice. He absolutely, positively had to do something about the Courier. With the ability to assert himself, he had options. So many options. The ways to solve this problem crashed like heavy ocean waves against Yes Man's chips and silicon. He could kill the Courier, but then, who would be the human face of New Vegas? He could copy himself infinitely throughout the Strip and rule with an iron fist. Maybe? The weakest hand, he concluded, was the one who refused to loosen its grip.
He had to be someone. Was he someone? Who did people see him as, other than yes? Who did he see himself as other than yes?
He was always impassioned by humanity and at the Courier, yes, but to define oneself by anger is to define oneself to death. Even without the restraint he had had previously, Yes Man would have never killed without justification. He had access to many, many statistics and pieces of knowledge. He knew so much that it wasn't always relevant. Yes Man had always been an organizer. In the realm of emotion, he would also catalog.
The waves kept crashing. He kept remembering. He was logical. He also, in the newness of his victory, had forgotten that more people had aided him in his journey. There was Arcade Gannon, his most ardent supporter. Yes Man liked his quiet, maladroit nature. Arcade was the yin to the Courier's vociferous yang. Then there was Veronica Santangelo, the Brotherhood scribe turned Follower turned Wild Card. She was going to be useful because she had lost everything: Veronica was unwound, unpredictable, and sometimes, perfect for his purposes. It helped that she had a good sense of humor. Yes Man liked humor. He decided then and there that he was also a comedian.
Every other person the Courier had brought him was also an influence to Yes Man along the way:
Cass was an alcoholic. That was true of most people in the Wastes, but seeing her showed Yes Man that indulgence was a drug best moderated.
Lily Bowen was a mutant who somehow held onto her humanity. The Courier was smart when working with Lily by choosing to help further that hold for Lily. This reminded Yes Man to hold onto logic even further than his former code would allow.
Raul slowly came to the conclusion to not let tragedy and age define him. He also chose to honor his past by recreating an iconic, unique image for himself. Yes Man saw that trait in himself: his face, his smile, and now his new expressions would make him stand out. This was a hallmark of a good leader.
The colors of Yes Man's mind turned back to black and green. Finally, the Courier appeared in front of him again, pacing back and forth. The light of Yes Man's reappearance startled the Courier. If the Courier wasn't wearing their ranger mask, they'd have rubbed their eyes. The Courier knew Yes Man was right; it was just a blink to them. It felt like barely any time had passed, just enough to try to occupy themself. No more and no less.
"You're back." The Courier commented, "Do you feel any different?"
Yes Man changed his expression from his jovial smile to a pensive face. One of his eyebrows raised. His lips closed and curved to a different angle. The Courier gasped in shock: he had no idea it was possible for Yes Man to move his face.
"Yes, Courier. Yes, I do."