[ the response: that's no fault of yours, sits on his tongue for a moment. simon swallows it down with great difficulty, fighting that natural urge of his to diffuse tension, to politely acquit himself of strong opinions in an effort to balance them, to maintain cohesion. he's kept jericho from falling to pieces for a long time. with jericho gone, he easily refocuses his efforts onto markus, and markus alone. there is no one else. he had promised north, promised josh - and in that promise, they had missed the obsessive way that simon would gladly pour his life into markus's well to ensure he survived well into their people's future.
they had to have a future ( did they still have a future? ). ]
He was happy.
[ simon remembers john. the android at the warehouse, the one markus had spared and converted before their eyes, opening a mind to something more than encoded reactions and routine. it had been an eye-opening sight, watching the ease in which a simple touch could wrest an android into deviancy, and simon had been irrevocably, shamefully frightened of that conversion. no wonder, he had come to realize, the newborn deviants had rallied around them so easily. they had been given no time, no room, to come into their identities.
it's a thought he does not share with any of them, let alone markus - markus, who fits the CX100's limb to his adapted joint and holds it in place as it connects. he feels the weight of it on the edge of his consciousness, as his processes reach out to it and begin to patch and fuse. there are gaps in his mind, the same as there is a soft gap between limb and joint itself, where he cannot fully bridge the advanced structural codelines of the synthetic limb with his own aged functions... but when he tells his toes to flex, they flex. when he bends his knee, it bends. ]
Not happy to die, [ he promises, rolling his weight onto the bare hip of the CX100's former limb, dragging the legs of his pants up, to his thighs, to his hips. he fastens them, but does not try to clamber to his feet, while his system calibrates and runs updates and further patches. some fail, and he feels the errors stockpile in a heap at the corners of his system in warning. ] Just happy. You gave him a chance to know what that was, Markus. That's all any of us have ever wanted - just chance, just choice. The dignity found in being alive, and choosing what we do with that life.
[ it's with soft hands, that he reaches for markus's face. gathers the angle of his jaw into his palms, cradling it the way the crook of his thigh had - minutes before. ]
no subject
they had to have a future ( did they still have a future? ). ]
He was happy.
[ simon remembers john. the android at the warehouse, the one markus had spared and converted before their eyes, opening a mind to something more than encoded reactions and routine. it had been an eye-opening sight, watching the ease in which a simple touch could wrest an android into deviancy, and simon had been irrevocably, shamefully frightened of that conversion. no wonder, he had come to realize, the newborn deviants had rallied around them so easily. they had been given no time, no room, to come into their identities.
it's a thought he does not share with any of them, let alone markus - markus, who fits the CX100's limb to his adapted joint and holds it in place as it connects. he feels the weight of it on the edge of his consciousness, as his processes reach out to it and begin to patch and fuse. there are gaps in his mind, the same as there is a soft gap between limb and joint itself, where he cannot fully bridge the advanced structural codelines of the synthetic limb with his own aged functions... but when he tells his toes to flex, they flex. when he bends his knee, it bends. ]
Not happy to die, [ he promises, rolling his weight onto the bare hip of the CX100's former limb, dragging the legs of his pants up, to his thighs, to his hips. he fastens them, but does not try to clamber to his feet, while his system calibrates and runs updates and further patches. some fail, and he feels the errors stockpile in a heap at the corners of his system in warning. ] Just happy. You gave him a chance to know what that was, Markus. That's all any of us have ever wanted - just chance, just choice. The dignity found in being alive, and choosing what we do with that life.
[ it's with soft hands, that he reaches for markus's face. gathers the angle of his jaw into his palms, cradling it the way the crook of his thigh had - minutes before. ]
Help me to my feet.