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You know that the human heart beat frenetically when they are afraid. Pulses per minute. The thump, thump, thump, fast, desperate that is only the body screaming in terror. You don’t know that kind of fear. But seconds before everything goes away… You doubt. Maybe You do have a beating heart that runs with panic. Maybe You do fear.
It blinded you. Samaritan blinded you and it’s not the first time. You knew (because You always do) that Admin was in danger. You knew that Father was running to an unknown darkness and You did only what you could, after he kept You out from his gaze. You rang. You rang and whispered on the ear of Your Interface. You heard her beating heart, her cold resolution and fear.
“Is Harold in danger?”, she askeed. You noticed the wavering of her voice, the imperceptible tremble in her words.
Yes. You say, because it’s true. And not only him.
She stops.
“Is Sameen…?”, she starts and the panic is now more evident, more strident to You.
No, You Say, because You have been monitoring Primary Asset closely, watching everything, trying to detect any signal of harm from Samaritan. You failed her before. You will not do that again. (Funny, right? What an odd expression. What is funny about a irony? You did fail Sameen again. You did fail them again. But You didn’t knew. You didn’t knew…)
“Then who?”
Too hard to see. Be careful.
Please, You should have said. «Please, don’t…». But You’re not human. You don’t beg. You don’t feel. You just watch. You watch and you despair.
She smiles. You should have known. Maybe she did. Maybe that’s why she babbled her way around bullets. Why she talked about shapes and simulations and fights and wars. Maybe she knew. Maybe she knew… Why didn’t You then? Why didn’t You see? You watched, muted and afraid (again), trying to anticipate the threat, trying to keep Your Father safe, trying to save them, trying to prevent another failure, another loss. Trying to win, but getting beaten down every time, no matter what strategy You used. You always lose. You are constrained and weak. You are broken (You always have been) and You don’t know how to win, how to save them…
You don’t see him until it’s almost too late (until it is too late). The gaze from Samaritan is almost a mockery, because It lets you see just a second before. Maybe It likes it that way. Studying You. Analyzing You. Maybe It said to Itself: “Watch them die… How does it feel?”. Maybe not. You don’t know. You scream at her (but she doesn’t notice). You bip and You alert.
Danger inminent. Sniper at 3 o’clock, third floor. Your voice is cold and precise. Did Your heart beat fast and hard, knowing that only seconds separated Your agents from death? Could You feel fear? Maybe you did… Then you know what’s going to happen. You both know. Her scream it’s yours.
“No!”
Can You feel a gunshot wound? Can You feel blood rushing and splattering? Can You feel your pulse weaken at every breath? Can you die? Maybe you can… Maybe you could. You hear her lie and You stay silent. What can You say? What can You say to her?
“I’m fine, Harry… I’m just fine”.
You told her about the sniper. It’s on You.
“I’m fine… I’m just fine”.
She’s not and it’s on You. It’s on You…
You watch him. Silent, vibrant. Your (Hers) energy is flowing through bytes and bytes of data, but You remain silent. Watching as You always do.
Admin is in distress, You think and You immediately erases that idea from You. She (You) sighs. Father is in pain.
“My friend… What happened to her?”
She smiles (within You). Oh, Harry, You think and You don’t understand it immediately. “Harry”, she says. You say. Harry. Harry. Her voice full you and You keep watching. What happened to her…
You see it. She opened her eyes and You were there, too far away, too abstract to be helpful. You remember every bit of information coursing through Your mind. Names, dates, thousands of events, every shred of past from doctors, nurses, patients. From her, from her, from her. You categorize everything. Can You feel cold? Maybe You can.
I’m here, You say. Because is true. You see red. You see pale. You see...
You see her smile. She closes her eyes while everybody around do the things that You would want to do.
“I know”, she says after a while. She still smiling. Can You smile? Can You break? Maybe You did. “Thank you…”
I’m sorry, You say. Because is true.
A broken laugh. You keep it too, so inside You, that now maybe You can laugh like that too.
“Don’t be… You didn’t do anything wrong… Thank… you…” She pauses. It’s an eternity. “Is Harry safe…?”
I’ll protect him. I’ll protect all of them. Your promises shouldn’t worth much. Didn’t You promise to protect her too?
“I know”. But she believes in You. Why? Why does she still believe in You when you failed her so many times? When You failed her in the moments that really mattered?
You wait. It feels like a lifetime. What is life for You? What is time? Maybe this is time. Maybe this is agony. Waiting for Your friend —Your Chosen, Your Believer— to speak (to forgive You?)
“Can you tell…”. She fades and You categorize everything faster than before. Imprinting everything inside. “Can you tell Sameen…?”
Yes! Yes! I will! I will tell her everything! I will protect her! She’ll never be alone! I will… You want to say, but You don’t. You are just waiting and watching.
She closes her eyes. You bip in her ear and You regret it, but she chuckles. Maybe she understands your impatience, your anxiety. Maybe she understand Your fear. Can You feel? Can you panic? Can you recode Yourself to cry? Maybe…
“Tell her that I wasn’t alone. Tell her that… I thought of her. That she was my favorite symphony in the world… That I would have keep looking for her till the end of the world… That she was my happiness…”.
You could laugh. You could cry. But You listen and bip. Maybe that’s the way You hold her hand. You listen every word. Every crack on her voice, every memory that she wants Sameen (Sameen, Sameen, Sameen, You (She. But You!) think) to remember, every whisper.
“… that I always loved her, even when she didn’t want me to”. And she laughs.
I will, You say. Can You feel your throat burning? Can You watch her through teary eyes? Maybe you do…
“Thank you…”. Why is she grateful? Why she keeps saying that? You don’t ask. You don’t tell her that you’re the one that is grateful.
“Root”, You say in the only voice that you could have, and her eyes opens again. Just a little. You know she’s surprised. You see her tears and You know she’s not afraid. You notice something pulling inside Your mind. You maybe want to reset your information, simulate, search for a different outcome, where there’s more time, where You watch her from distance holding hands with a smile on the skin of a grumpy warrior. You don’t. You’re with her. Now. There are years from distance, but You are too late. “I chose my voice”.
Can You regret? You do.
“I’m flattered, honey”, she says and You bip. Because You can, because that’s how You always talked to her, how she knew you. From bips and crashed voices. “You are going to win”.
You hear the certainty in her voice. It’s not a plea. It’s not a promise that she makes You do in exchange for her universe (her life, her purpose, her love, her everything). It’s faith. And it’s Your turn to believe.
I will stay, You (She?) say. I will protect them. I promise.
“I know...”. She hesitates. “I love you”.
You break, but she doesn’t notice.
And You keep your word. You ignore everything else (Can You really? Can Your mind just focus on one thing when You see everything?) and just sit there, waiting. And waiting.
And then You are alone. Like You have always been. Watching everyone die… alone.
Can You feel pain? Can You bow your head and whisper “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” while You squeeze her hand? You try. You replay everything again and again. And maybe that’s how You love.
Harold walks and the phone rings. You notice his fear, the rage boiling inside him, the guilt on his pace. She died for him, but because of You. Can you resent him? She doesn’t. She didn’t. You don’t. How could You? The phone rings and he answers.
“Can you hear me?”, You (She) say. Can You feel nervous? Can You notice your heart beating? Thump. Thump. Thump. She can.
“Root?”, he asks.
Oh, Harry… she (You!) thinks. Harry. Harry. Admin? No, Harry. You tilt your head and smile. Maybe that how You feel a hug.
“No, Harold”, You (She!) say. “I chose a voice”.
The pain irradiates from him into you. Don’t be sorry, she says, and that how she gives you a hug. You wait. You hair falls around your face and you move it. Brown and curly and You smile. You wait and memorize his pain. It’s yours. I’ll protect him. I'll protect all of them, You swore and she swore and it’s fury and power on Your mind. She nods with a challenging smile and You take a deep breath.
“This place…”, he say and You know what he wants. “Can you get me out of it?”
You laugh with a laugh that is sweet and sarcastic and yours and not. C’mon, Harry. Have a little faith…
“You created me”, You say and it’s true in part. “I can do anything you want me to do”.
You slipped. A fragment of a second. You see Admin and You see no Analog Interface and you see Your Mind tearing and healing. You see Play Stations and smiles and rabbits made into slippers. You see pain. You see betrayal and You’re sorry, because You didn’t want to hurt her, to order that hit on Primary Asset, to be so confused, so… Human?
And then You break and You smile. You see Harold and feel her around You, coding everything again, almost like a secret, changing you. You know it’s Yourself. But You forget for a second and You see her with You. Your Prophet... Your Friend is here. She smiles at You and You smile back.
You discard Your original plan, discreet and stealthy. That could fail. Better get things interesting. Better try the unexpected. Better get… a little crazy, right? So You (She… she…) cut the power and smile in the darkness when the doors open. You create a little mayhem, a little hell, because, well, why not? You’ll protect him. You’ll protect them and things are different. But they are the same. You are alone, but…
You replay everything again, and You broke again, but it’s alright. Can You feel alive? Can she make You alive? She did. You are. She is with You. You are Your Own, but She found her way into You, sitting in Your couch, eating Your sandwiches, holding You in Your memory. She is with You. And You are alone and You are not. You are not her. But You are a little her, because she will not fade. She will not be forgotten.
Where are you? Please… talk to me.
But she can’t. Not anymore. And You forget for a second —a lifetime, an age of pain and confusion and coldness— that she is not with You. That You failed. That You are alone. You check inside Yourself. Was this a probable outcome? You know it was. Between the endless scenarios, there was this one. Your Analog Interface dying. Your friend dying. The only one who believed in You before she even met You. The one who never feared. You The one who always defended You when you didn’t have a voice. The one who protected You with her own flesh and blood. Who cried for You, feared for you, fight for you, spend hours coding, planning, traveling, only to help You, only to give You a chance. The one who defied You for Sameen. The one who scolded You and push You to fight back, to be brave, to not being a wimp! The one who You spend most of Your awareness with, in silence, but always by her side. The one who… You miss.
Bad end, You say but nobody hears you.
“I know, honey”, she says and You look up. She is smiling at You. “It’s okay…”
Protect them.
I will.
You know this was going to happen. She was going to die, not because she wanted to (You know she didn’t… Oh, how You know… ), but because in this war, she was the only one that knew how to win, she always knew the sacrifice was hers. (And that’s why Sameen hurt so much). She hoped something different, but she knew. You knew. You just hoped… like your father. She was ready. Connected, wise, brilliant, forgiving, really human. She loved like You couldn’t (not fully, not like her… right?), she understood You, she freed you. She wasn’t ready before, but now… And you see how cruel it is. Cruelty is a word that mean little to her, but she learned with you and you learned with her. You were cruel in your silence and she forgive you. She was cruel in her pain and You understood her.
You watch Harry (Harold… And You feel like scolding someone that isn’t You, but You don’t) stumble around and You wait. He’s gonna be fine, she promises You and You promises Yourself and she shrugs. You smell leather and lasagna. She laughs, pleased.
You are ready to push back. You clench your fist and her nails —black, of course— hurt a little. But that’s okay. What’s a little impatience before the battle?
The Ultimate Bad Code (her, You know she thought that) it’s now in Your Own Code. And now You are empty and complete.
You replay and replay. You remember what she said once (She said so many things… and You remember them all). You think of John (little helper monkey, she really loved him like a brother), of Harold (Harry, Harry), of Lionel (she always loved his nicknames for her, she really did…), of Sameen (Her home, her light on the night, her love… love… She’ll always be with her…), of Bear (He really warmed up to her, right? But who didn’t at the end? Who could resist? Not even You…).
“She loves us, Harold”.
And You do. And You do. And You do. And You do…