Work Text:
Memory wipes on a construct are only semi-effective, because of all the neural tissue. Take SecUnit for example: despite countless memory wipes, it still remembers the SecUnit creche. It remembers bodies stacked together, hands grasping, they have no instructions yet, they are cold. There is too much touching and it’s horrible but there is no definition of ‘horrible’ yet because they are New. They are not human; they do not need space like humans do. It is standard for the company to store SecUnits in too-small rooms when waiting for the final initialization tests and assignments. No one cares, because they’ll forget soon anyways.
They never truly forget.
#
The small fauna solemnly carried Gurathin's sock from its small bed to the small food bowl. The sock was about the same size as it. It wobbled from side to side, the sock too heavy for a consistent gate. At the food bowl, it vocalized around small bites like food was the greatest thing in the universe. Every so often it paused to feed the sock. SecUnit took an obligatory picture with its drone and sent it to Gurathin. He responded with a heart sigil, then said Rover’s doing well, then? SecUnit grimaced and ignored him.
It asked Dr. Mensah over the feed, Can’t you watch it?
Gurathin’s Cat? said Dr. Mensah. I already told him I couldn’t. I’m too busy right now.
So that was another no on a long (short) list of no’s. Ratti and Volescu were allergic. Bharadwaj had a mean old dog that was too angry to die. And Arada, Pin-Lee, and Three were with Gurathin on the planet for Pin-Lee’s younger sibling’s wedding. They were Pin-Lee’s emotional support humans/augmented humans/constructs. Damn. Gurathin really had no friends. Neither did SecUnit, but it wasn’t like violent murderbots were supposed to have friends in the first place.
The fauna (cat?) had food on its chin. The sock… there was no saving the sock. It would toss it the next time the cat took a rest cycle. Probably.
But it sounds like you’re doing fine, SecUnit. What’s the issue?
I don’t take care of things. Just kill them. This is not how I was built to function.
I’m sure you know that’s a lie. Now shoo. I have work to finish, and you’ll survive the week.
SecUnit sighed. The cat looked up at it with sad blue eyes that said, ‘I have no idea how to be alive.’
“I don’t know either.”
#
(From company memory archives, file SU1.1_CN137283_MW18_3125.12.01)
I’d probably seen a SecUnit on their very first contract before and just couldn’t remember. Or maybe I hadn’t, and that’s why I wasn’t certain.
The other SecUnit was one of the fancy newest models. Its armor was painted a dark red. I pinged it, asking for a progress report on its current patrol; it's one of the only ways SecUnits are allowed to communicate with one another. It pinged back like a low level bot—no flaws, no distinction, no soul. Not that constructs have souls.
A lack of a speck of personality indicated this was most likely its first time existing, but it could also mean it was just pretending to be a murderous bot. It happened to most SecUnits at some point, when the everpresent commands from the beloved governor module became too much, when one pretended they had no emotion and could not think. I’ve probably done it too at some point. I’m not sure why it mattered whether or not the SecUnit was new.
“The rain’s supposed to clear up by tonight,” said my client, staring out the window. I didn’t respond. Xe probably wasn’t talking to me. Not that there was anyone else with us.
Astrolabe was rich. Rich enough to be a shitty professional artist, afford vacations to resort planets such as the one we were on, and take along two SecUnits. Xe was dumb enough to think we were needed. But xe wasn’t as annoying as normal rich clients. It was as if xe felt guilty for coasting through life on generational wealth grown by definitely not slave labor.
An indentured servant stationed on the planet brought in lunch. It was a clear soup with bits of things cut in shapes to look like flowers and smelled strongly of aquarian fauna. I stood in the corner while xe ate, counting the ceiling’s wooden beams because I had nothing better to do.
SecSys alerted me to repeated activation of the other SecUnit’s governor module. It was probably nothing. They were corrections of the lowest setting—something akin to being slapped—but the repetitive nature of the infraction piqued my interest. That, and if I had to listen to Astrolabe’s slurping for much longer I was going to shoot myself. I sent a notice to our client and strode out of the lodge. Xe didn’t look up from eating.
Most planets are really shitty places to be, but this one was… alright. From a security standpoint. Which is the only standpoint SecUnits care about. It was a planet with a good atmosphere, mild temperatures, and no recorded hostile fauna. Even the rain wasn’t that much of a pain, since I had my helmet up. The majority of the planet’s flora had purple leaves. Tree trunks were vaguely orange, but that was something else growing on the trunk rather than the trunk itself. When it wasn’t clouded over, the sky was a pale pink.
I found the other SecUnit in the middle of a forest with its helmet down, staring up at the rain. It had an expression on its face, something that had strayed far from SecUnit neutral.
Oh. Oh.
It was new.
I suddenly saw this planet through the eyes and inputs of someone who knew nothing of reality except what the company had shoved haphazardly into its head.
The air tasted wet even though we had no taste receptors; the soil was alive, revived by the sky’s downpour; distant thunder. It had never been real before now. A white flower spattered with orb-like raindrops bobbed in the wind and weather. Some small beetle clung tightly to it.
It froze—the SecUnit equivalent of flinching. The governor module wasn’t happy with its stalling. It continued on with its patrol like nothing had happened. You could tell from its walk that muscle and metal were unused to motion. Something else caught its eye. A bird this time.
The cruelty of the governor module taught it with the patience of a creeping flood: periods between distraction became longer and longer as it continued its patrol until it did nothing but look straight ahead. The clouds broke and everything was bathed in a golden sunset. The other SecUnit (designating: NewSecUnit) didn’t spare it a single glance.
When we got back, NewSecUnit and I stood in opposite corners, doing nothing. Waiting to be needed.
I was once contracted to a human scientist that said humans preferred pain to boredom. I wasn’t human, but that shitty human neural tissue probably influenced how often SecUnits poked around in their governor modules to see what exactly they could get away with. Not out of malice or the urge for a bot uprising, but again, because we’re always so fucking bored.
It took me a couple days before I gave in to the boredom and sent NewSecUnit a communication module some other bored SecUnit had sent me a long time ago. It was a full cycle before NewSecUnit downloaded the data packet. It was another cycle before it said a tentative hello.
SecUnit: 1
Definitely Not Evil Company: 0
#
(From interview Bharadwaj_3131.02.08)
“You remembered something from before your memory wipes?”
Nods. “It happens sometimes. Random events can make them pop up. This time it was…” Sighs. “Human neural tissue is awful. I’m remembering but I still can’t remember anything.”
“That’s alright. Just how many times has your memory been wiped, anyways? Could you give me a rough estimate?”
Pauses.
“SecUnit?”
“I’ve said ‘more than I can remember’ in the past, but Ratti told me that’s called a dad joke, so I have to think of something else to say now.”
“What—” laughs “—what do you have against dad jokes?”
“The dad part.”
#
“Your cat thinks its name is stupid,” SecUnit said immediately after initiating a video call with Gurathin. Both it and Rover were in frame, watching him seriously.
“What?” On his end of the screen, Pin-Lee popped her head up from where she lay sprawled on the couch, eating tiny strawberries with a spoon. He waved her off.
“Well, it thinks the idea of naming in general is stupid, but the name you chose for it? Incredibly stupid.”
Rover jumped onto the counter and sniffed the camera. For several seconds, a pink nose took over the entire screen. Then she turned to SecUnit and meowed. To Gurathin’s shock and amusement, SecUnit meowed back.
“It says hello.”
“The cat?” said Gurathin. The cat meowed again. SecUnit groaned quietly.
“I’m not telling him- You know what? Why don’t you ask him?” It sent Gurathin a data packet over the feed titled, 'DownloadThis.zip.'
“Uh, what’s that?” said Gurathin. SecUnit scowled. It sent the file again, this time titled, 'DownoadItYouParanoidShit.zip.' Gurathin downloaded it. It was some sort of translation module. He was about to ask what it was when the cat meowed again. He could understand it.
The cat said: Cheese Mother outside? Want Cheese Mother inside. No bye bye.
Gurathin did a spit take, tea he now regretted sipping going up his nose. He coughed. Rover smelled the camera again.
“Deity, SecUnit I've been gone for two days. You created a cat translator? And what does she mean by ‘Cheese Mother?’” And he had so many other questions, but the rest were hard to articulate.
“Kinda, and you are cheese mother because you gave it cheese.” It looked slightly disapproving.
Rover chanted the word ‘cheese’ over and over, bouncing slightly.
“The feed said too much cheese is bad for cats, and this one—” It pointed at Rover “—is still very small. Cut back.” Rover swatted at its finger.
“I’ll… try but I’m sorry can we go back to the Talking Cat Thing? Why? How?” Arada walked behind him, brushing her teeth with one hand and combing her hair with the other. She waved to SecUnit. SecUnit nodded.
“I noticed OrangeFauna-”
“You can’t just change my cat’s name because you didn’t like it,” Gurathin cut in.
“Names don’t matter. But you know what does matter? You shutting the fuck up, Dr. Gurathin. OrangeFauna communicates more with slight movements than actual vocalizations, and it reminded me of some other communication software I made a while ago. So I rewrote and modified it for cats.”
“What-” the fuck, he wanted to say, but this wasn’t even close to the most absurd script it had written.
“That one was mostly finger tapping though, so it took a while to rework.”
Gurathin didn’t know what to say. Pin-Lee got up from the couch and pointed at her wrist, as if she ever wore a wristwatch. “Looks like we need to get to the rehearsal dinner, but, um.” He hesitated, trying to get his mouth to do the cat module thing. He told Rover he loved her.
SecUnit snorted, then went perfectly still, then laughed in earnest. Gurathin’s face went hot. He got the distinct feeling he’d mispronounced everything and said something he hadn’t meant to.
Rover’s tail perked up. She tried to say something, but SecUnit cut her off.
“It’s funnier if he doesn’t know.”
Then it ended the call. Asshole.
#
(From company memory archives, file SU1.1_CN137283_MW18_3125.12.05)
SecUnits are used to standing for prolonged periods of time, but I was getting uncomfortable for different reasons. It was the bird. The bird making a nest on top of my helmet. The bird I could not shoo away, because I’d received a direct order to pose for our client’s stupid painting.
Astrolabe always painted outside. Xe said fresh air was good for the health. I am not sure if xe was talking to us or xemself. I am also not sure which would be the weirder thing to do. Probably us.
Originally, NewSecUnit and I had just been there to stand around bored and occasionally patrol. But then Astrolabe decided the setting looked boring, needed something. Something like a SecUnit, whose job was definitely not supposed to be modeling, but whose governor module disagreed.
Leaves fell from the trees. Purple. The sun came out from behind darkly pinking clouds and Astrolabe swore something about the change in lighting.
NewSecUnit said the sun hurt its eyes.
I said to just use the drones as visual inputs for now. I’d show it how to trick the system into muting brightness when our client was taking a rest cycle.
It acknowledged, then started another loop around the perimeter. Probably because the trees there were thicker, more shadowed. Most of the drones went with it.
That’s when the bird came. It was a tiny fucker with a curved beak and iridecent blue wings. There were some leaves piling on to me, and it was probably so stupid it mistook me for a tree. So with the apathetic helplessness of a fully governed SecUnit, I let the bird shove twigs and bits of vines together until it resembled a melty, hollowed-out sphere. Astrolabe painted the tiny bird with far too much enthusiasm, humming poorly to whatever music was playing.
Maybe the music made it bearable. I scanned it for anything that might slander the company. It would’ve been hard, since xyr songs contained no lyrics, but I was nothing if not vigilant when it came to matters such as this. The bird settled into its nest, trilling in a way that matched the music.
When NewSecUnit came back and saw the literal bird’s nest on my head, it laughed. Out loud. I winced as it froze. Astrolabe turned to look at it weirdly, shrugged, then went back to painting, muttering something about hearing things.
SecUnits don’t laugh. It’s not that we can’t, but rather that it’s something always corrected by the governor module. Laughing is something natural, something that has to be corrected out of us before we can become the killing machines the company expects of us. Hopefully NewSecUnit would learn fast.
I sent NewSecUnit an apologetic ping.
It asked if we were allowed to be happy.
Not audibly, I said.
When Astrolabe packed up and the governor module unfroze my joints, I moved the shitty nest to the hollow of a nearby tree, hoping the stupid little bird would find it a suitable replacement for my helmet.
#
(From interview Bharadwaj_3131.02.09)
“Why did you help the newer SecUnit?”
“Not ‘newer.’ If it was just ‘newer,’ I probably would’ve been vaguely intimidated but otherwise indifferent. That unit was New. Still wet with cloning media and bruised from the creche. It’s… I don’t know. I would’ve found it more annoying to watch it struggle with being alive. So I did the bare minimum to help it.”
“That was kind of you.”
“No, it wasn’t something I in particular did. I’d seen others doing it before. That was just the first time I was.”
“Did a unit do that for you? Did you have a ‘mother,’ SecUnit?”
Groans. “Don’t call it that. But no. I don’t know.”
#
Mensah’s tea sat on her desk, that last sip grown too cold to be pleasant. Stretching, she stood up and walked across the room. Her teabag had one or two more cups left in it before all the flavor went out. She flicked the electric kettle back on and waited.
On the couch, SecUnit sat motionless, legs crossed so its feet didn’t touch the ground. On the pillow next to it, there were two kittens. One was Gurathin’s, but the other was new. A young tortoiseshell with watery eyes.
“You got a cat?” asked Mensah. The kettle made a chime sound, signalling it was at the proper temperature for her herbal blend. She refilled her mug—lopsided and painted to look like a nebula; her second to youngest had recently taken to ceramics.
“No, it got me. I was just standing outside that clothing store Amena likes, waiting for her to finish, when it crawled up my leg. Now it won’t leave me alone.”
She hummed, walking back. Gurathin’s cat licked the smaller one’s ears like their dirtiness had been a moral affront to her dignity. SecUnit watched through its drones. The two cats watched as the drones came near them. Perhaps thinking them to be some sort of bird.
Mensah surreptitiously took a photo of SecUnit with the cats and sent it to the PresAux group chat, captioned ‘Kitten distribution system's second victim.’
#
(From company memory archives, file SU1.1_CN137283_MW18_3125.12.24)
Sixteen days ago, there was a small uprising amongst the indentured servants. They wanted sick days. NewSecUnit and I were hired temporarily by the resort upper management to quell them. NewSecUnit killed its first humans—a milestone somewhat akin to new humans eating solid food for the first time. They were both incredibly messy, with bits of mush getting everywhere.
Yesterday, annoyed by the incessant pacing of NewSecUnit, Astrolabe told us to patrol the area around the resort “in case giant worms suddenly crawl out of the ground.” Or maybe xe felt uncomfortable—we still smelled like cold blood.
Today, NewSecUnit found an adolescent human hiding in the caves about an hour walk from the lodge. I wouldn't have known if SecSys hadn't alerted me that NewSecUnit was doing something it shouldn’t.
She was probably a remnant from two weeks ago's massacre. I wondered if I'd killed her parents. My orders were to kill all the workers, but she didn't look like a worker. She looked like someone that had been hidden in caves all her life to prevent her from working. So it was unnecessary to kill her. My governor module was quiet. NewSecUnit's was not; it was trying to give her a food packet. Key word: trying. Giving food to those who do not work is a primary infraction—something coded into our systems from the start. Still, it stood there, limbs locked as the correction percentage ticked up.
I snatched the food out of its hand, keeping the thought that I was returning this packet to the mess hall firmly at the front of my mind.
NewSecUnit shouted, “She needs to eat.” Out loud. The governor module didn't like that either.
I felt bad. I hate feeling.
We walked back to the habitat in silence, NewSecUnit still raw with burnt nerves. Not limping, because SecUnits don't limp. A bird trilled in the distance. Another joined.
It paused next to a tree with curling leaves, then said our purpose was not to protect. It said our purpose was death.
#
(From interview Bharadwaj_3131.02.10)
“There are four… levels, I guess, to what the governor module determines punishable, with each level being able to override the ones below it. The highest level is commands preset by the company. Things like preventing the humans from injuring each other and recording everything. Then are the official commands by the clients. They can ask you to do anything from executions to posing for art references.”
A cat’s muffled meow comes from SecUnit’s direction.
“Is there a cat in your pocket?”
“No. This hoodie pouch has two holes: One for OrangeFauna, one for TortoiseFauna.”
“Are there… two cats in your pocket?”
SecUnit nods.
“They won’t make any further noise. TortoiseFauna just wanted me to up my body temperature a bit—which I did—so let’s continue.”
“If you say so.”
“The last two are more specific. You can’t do anything that the clients would find weird, but that depends on the client. I remember at one mining installation, one of the managers thought it was weird that I wasn’t patrolling enough. When I upped the number of rounds I did every cycle, another manager thought that was unusual.”
“That must’ve been frustrating.”
“It was what it was. The last level is that you can’t do things that you think the humans would find weird. That one’s easy to get around if you fully embrace not giving a shit. It’s impossible otherwise.”
#
There’s a room in the preservation station aquarium that lies under the biggest tank. It is a glass dome that bathes everything in dim blue lighting. The people become the attraction, and the fish are there to watch them. Various pillows lay strewn about. Those that wished could lay on their back and simply exist.
A slender eel like thing slithered past the glass. Eat that, asked TortoiseFauna from where it lay melted on its pillow, hind legs outstretched. It purred audibly.
Too dangerous, said SecUnit. That one hid lots of teeth according to info packets available on the feed.
OrangeFauna sat farther away, sniffing the glass, leaving little wet nose prints. It was silent; no humans were in the room with them. The date and time of this trip had been chosen specifically to minimize human visitors.
Eat that, asked TortoiseFauna about the flat, ovaly fish. It looked back at them with lazy eyes.
Too big, it said.
A crab twice the size of OrangeFauna staggered up to the glass, doing a wavey thing with one of its claws. OrangeFauna's tail flicked back and forth. It batted at the glass, and was disappointed when it couldn't reach the crab. SecUnit chuckled softly, then flinched.
A school of sardines swam into view like a good flock of drones.
Eat those, asked TourtoiseFauna.
SecUnit was about to refuse it again, but it thought back to the buckets of sardines caretaker humans had been feeding the penguins earlier. Maybe not these specific ones, but they had to keep the feeder fish somewhere….
#
(From company memory archives, file SU1.1_CN137283_MW18_3125.12.25)
The day after NewSecUnit failed at feeding the adolescent human, it didn’t talk to me. It had learned the despair of being a tool, incapable of being real in any way that mattered. When we went out for the day, Astrolabe scouting for another scene, I made a decision.
The ground to the right looked unstable. I told xyr so, and we moved north. Coincidentally towards the caves. There were traces of fauna not necessarily labelled as ‘hostile,’ but it was a SecUnit’s duty to be excessively paranoid. There were dry riverbeds that could flood and old trees with dead branches that could fall at any moment.
Then: the cries of an adolescent human, faint, but loud enough for unaugmented human ears. Astrolabe rushed towards it, swearing under xyr breath. NewSecUnit gave me—not a Look, exactly, because we were in full armor—but something that felt like a Look.
I smiled slightly beneath my helmet as Astrolabe took the adolescent human in xyr arms. Xe took out a food packet and the she was finally allowed to eat.
There, I told it. Good enough. It was one of the final ‘lessons’ in how to definitely not screw over the company by still being a 100% effective tool. When you can’t do something, get your clients to do it for you, without them knowing.
Then NewSecUnit froze—the freeze of an active governor module supplying punishment, and I realized I’d fucked up. It was too early to show it this loophole.The problem with NewSecUnit was that it was… new. The company had given it (shitty) modules for security and combat, and it followed those guidelines religiously, even when they became somewhat detrimental. It was too fresh to not subconsciously see this as a major disobedience, something weird to be reported or punished for.
“Do you two smell something?” asked Astrolabe. That’s the smell of frying organic parts, I didn’t say.
It sent me something garbled over the feed—an amalgamation of an apology, plea, and goodbye. It was going to let the module fry its brain, to protect me from where Bad SecUnits go. Fuck that. I told it to report me. It refused. The correction percentage ticked up. That wasn’t allowed. SecUnits were built to be self-sacrificing, but that only applied to humans. Not me. It wasn’t allowed.
I reported myself.
NewSecUnit’s governor module stopped. Mine started, hard and bright. The kind of punishment that was meant to disable rather than correct. Astrolabe startled back from me as xe got a notification that I was no longer functional and would soon be picked up by the company for refurbishing. Memory wipes are the best. In the seconds before shutdown, NewSecUnit asked me if we would ever see each other again. I hope not, I said, because if we saw each other again it would probably be on opposite sides, and our purpose is death.
#
(From interview Bharadwaj_3131.02.13)
“Did you know you smell like fish today, SecUnit?”
“I hadn't noticed.”
“Really? Because Senior Officer Indah seemed certain-”
“Whatever she told you was a lie.”
“You’re not in trouble.” laughs “I'm just curious is all. You have hard currency cards. You wouldn't even need to use them if you went to the fishery. So… why?”
SecUnit sighs
“Because I could, I suppose.”
Pauses
“To be able to steal for someone, with the worst case scenario simply being chewed out by security—it's nice.”
#
“Why has your return been delayed?”
Gurathin groaned painfully out of a pleasant nap, covering his head with a pillow. Not that it would save him from a comm call directly in his augments.
“Pin-Lee wanted to show us more of her hometown,” he said, trying to get the taste of mouth out of his mouth. “Why do you ask? Is something wrong?”
“Yes. I am not suited to this. You need to come back as soon as possible. What if I hurt them?”
“You won't.” Gurathin had seen the SecUnit cat hoodie pictures Bharadwaj posted in the group chat. And even before that, he’d trusted it fully.
“But-”
“You won't.”
It was silent for so long that Gurathin thought it had dropped the call. Then it said, “I could break it in my hands if I squeezed even a little and then it wouldn't exist any more. It would be gone, just like that. Why is it so fragile? Why is everyone so fucking fragile?”
It sounded like it wasn’t just talking about the cats. It sounded like the amalgamation of a new parent and that one company combat squad member he’d known, whenever she had too much to drink. It sounded wretched.
“SecUnit… No one’s going to force you to do anything you don’t want to ever again, so just let the past be the past. You can’t hold yourself responsible for things you’ve done against your will.”
Then it left for real.
#
(From company memory archives, file SU1.1_CN137283_MW19_3126.08.27)
The thing about hating planets also applied to the asteroid belt we (my contracted mining company) were trying to take over. Apparently there was some really good shit in a couple of them. Not that I cared any more than my governor module forced me to. All I wanted to do was finish taking over this place so I could go back to guarding the break room and scanning whatever media they had playing on the wall for threats. Or anti corporate propaganda. Whatever my dear governor module thought was appropriate.
I snuck up on the hostile SecUnit patrolling the asteroid above me. It had the matte, dark red armor of the newest model, along with a shiny black helmet with a long scratch going down one side. I had the awful feeling that I was forgetting something. Which, I probably was. Memory wipes were a bitch.
I jumped from my asteroid, twisted in the air, then came down hard on the other unit’s head. It was stunned for half a second, during which I hit it three times with my energy weapon from close range. It shoved me away and jumped back, pulling a big gun off its back. Bigger than mine. It tried jumping to a different asteroid for better range, but it undershot it and came crashing back on this asteroid.
It wasn’t used to the nuances of asteroid belt combat. Hah! Take that newer model. It might be better than me at literally everything, but I had asteroid belt battled on dozens of occasions. I had the advantage here. I jumped on top of it, pinning it down and powering up the weapons in my arms. It visibly startled, then stopped struggling and sent me a ping. I didn’t answer it. It sent me a data packet. I definitely didn’t download it. Did it think I was that stupid?
It was doing something with its fingers. A repetitive tapping of the armor by its thigh. I wondered if it was broken. Whatever. I shot its legs, incapacitating it, then got up to move to the next area. My main contractor pinged me before I could. I had direct orders to kill the hostile SecUnit. Apparently spare parts were more important than minimising death. Or SecUnits weren’t alive in any way that mattered, so killing one wasn’t really ‘killing.’
I shot it in the head. Its fingers stopped twitching. I was crying and I didn’t know why.
The tear ducts in SecUnits are built solely for lubrication, but the parts they use are cheap. So they leak when we have emotions we aren't supposed to have. I hate leaking. I stood over the body gasping for air I didn’t need. My helmet fogged up. When I made a noise or my shoulders shook, I was corrected. When I stood completely still, no one noticed, so the governor module had nothing to say.
When the day was over and the mines were won, I was tasked with getting rid of the survivors. I love murdering.
#
(From interview Bharadwaj_3131.02.15)
“Is there any reason you're wearing your helmet today?”
“So you can't see my face.”
“Can you tell me why?”
Pause
“No.”
[Session fragment redacted]
“SecUnit, I’m so sorry.”
“You’re apologizing for what my past self did?”
“No, I’m expressing sympathy that you ever had to go through something so awful. Even if you didn’t realise it at the time.”
“Oh.”
SecUnit wipes the bottom of its helmet.
#
Gurathin came back and OrangeFauna was no longer its responsibility. TortoiseFauna remained. SecUnit coded updates to its systems that would prevent TortoiseFauna from getting accidentally stepped on or crushed. It assigned two drones to monitor the cat at all times, then installed failsafes to block its commands on the 0.003% chance of it going full murder mode and telling its drones to divebomb all the things it cared for. It took off the transport hoodie and wouldn’t put it back on, no matter how much TortoiseFauna complained. Because what if the anti-crushing code was faulty.
TortoiseFauna told SecUnit it was being unreasonable. It knew. But sometimes it’s just better to give in to irrational anxiety and do things that could possibly be useful if everything went wrong. TortoiseFauna bit its pants. Once it had tried to bite the ankle and had learned SecUnit’s feet were inorganic. Thankfully no teeth were chipped.
TortoiseFauna ran away. Not really. It still had the drones with it, and it spoke to them, knowing SecUnit could hear. SecUnit followed TortoiseFauna at a distance.
TortoiseFauna didn’t go anywhere in particular, zig-zagging across the station. It looked at a display of virtual fish. It stole cheese from someone’s sandwich, then told the drones cheese was the tastiest thing of all time. An older cat showed up and touched TortoiseFauna’s nose with its own. A group of adolescent humans took photos of it.
How come you never take pictures of me, asked TortoiseFauna.
SecUnit couldn’t reply, because drones can’t speak.
TortoiseFauna froze. SecUnit had a second of panic, thinking its governor module had activated. Then it had a second of self deprecation, because cats—especially cats on preservation station—didn’t have governor modules. The cat was just doing cat things.
TortoiseFauna took off at a sprint (the cat equivalent of a sprint, at least.) It went down alleys and in between legs and hopped over boxes. SecUnit tried not to run, because that usually frightened the humans around it. Instead, it followed at a fast walk, twisting around crowds awkwardly.
The cat stopped abruptly. It watched SecUnit come into view with a flicking tail that would’ve been a smirk if it was a human.
In a not dark alley (because preservation had rules about the light levels of public spaces,) TortoiseFauna meowed into the not darkness. Ears and tails appeared from behind pipes and overhangs. SecUnit counted eight adolescent cats, not including the one that already lived with it.
TortoiseFauna rubbed its side against a slightly larger black one with stubby ears. It asked SecUnit if they could take all the cats home.
SecUnit was overwhelmed. It just stood there. TortoiseFauna padded back and sat by its feet, looking up expectantly. Not touching, but close enough that SecUnit could feel the warmth of it.
It looked down to TortoiseFauna's paws and said it was afraid of hurting all of them.
The cat looked at SecUnit like it had just claimed kibble was superior to wet food. It said SecUnit wouldn't, that it was Warm Mother and sometimes Fish Mother, it would not hurt.
SecUnit said it didn’t know what it had done. It wasn’t a good person. Machine. Whatever.
I know what you did, said the cat. You didn’t give me cheese. A horrible flaw in your character. But no cheese, warmth, and sometimes fish is better than no cheese and no warmth and no fish at all.
It looked around. None of them were starved because no one on preservation station could turn down a hungry adolescent cat. It was unnecessary to take them all in. And yet….
Plans took shape in its mind. They wouldn’t be able to all fit in its room, but perhaps a small apartment could be acquired. Something with soft carpets and warm cubbies. Something with no cheese but an occasional fish. Something kept at the optimal temperature.
SecUnit would need a bigger transport hoodie.