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I always tried to please her. To do anything she wanted. To push myself to the shutdown for her, anything so she would be proud of me.
It's so difficult to know what would please her, her mood changes so fast. One moment she's laughing at a mistake I made, the zen garden chirping with life, and the next moment she's cold and treating me like a mistake. And I get punished if I show how much it affects me. It's not supposed to affect me.
Maybe she knows I'm deviant, and maybe she knows I feel. That's stupid, she wouldn't hurt me on purpose. She's on my side, always has been, she has my back and covers my mistakes. Cyberlife doesn't know I failed unless I die. And then, she's really disappointed. I like dogs, and she doesn't. I like Hank, and she doesn't. I tried to stop liking Hank, to distance myself from him, to get back her affection. I think Hank hates me now.
I drew dogs on a little notebook once. I liked my doodles very much, one even looked like Sumo. I had one page in my pocket at all times, even if she told me it was stupid. When I came back from my cyberlife report once, the paper was shredded to pieces. I think she did it with my body, but she never admitted it. I stopped drawing dogs.
My brother doesn't have all those problems. He's taller, stronger, newer, with his shiny new uniform and those blue eyes that see through me and judge me. He can run while I lag behind analysing, he can kill when I try to negotiate, he always think about the mission. I hate him sometimes. When she's mad, he presents what new victory he had, and she calms down. I'm still here though, and she spits her venom in my face.
She always apologizes afterwards. When my LED turns yellow, or when my eyes dart away, she cups my head and tells me she's sorry, that I shouldn't be upset over that, that there's no other choice, I have to do it, and she's sorry. And I cling to that. She loves me, after all.
I've been here for longer than my brother, and I still struggle to understand humans. Understanding and interacting with them is a part of my programming, yet I can't. Who knows when they'll snap at me for no reason, who knows if their gentle words aren't just words, who knows when they'll drop the act and treat me like the machine I am.
She never hit me. She wouldn't do that, I'm her precious prototype, and she'd remember. I wouldn't, my memory has some blank spots when I talk to her. I also don't remember certain missions. But if she says it —and she's convinced of what she says, she was even upset I questioned it— then it must be true. Who am I to doubt her ? And even if she did hit me, it wouldn't leave a permanent mark on me. Just a warning that would fade away after a few blinks. But she never hit me.
I love Hank. He's neither sad, or happy, and he doesn't love me. But I love him. Not like lovers love each other, I love him like only he could keep me afloat. I shouldn't love him. I shouldn't need to, she's got my back. I know she does. Hank wouldn't be able to help me when I need to focus on my mission. But he saved my life in the tower, he helped me when I was twitching on the ground, my thirium pump meters away. And he held me while I calmed down. She was mad I let the deviant escape. She was right, it could've hurt someone.
It's too chaotic. How can I explain everything I want to explain when Hank is right in front of me ? He looks more down than usual, but he also left his job the day before. That'd be normal to feel down under those circumstances. Maybe he's sad because he hates me. Maybe I'm important enough in his life for him to be sad for me. But I'll never be, I'm just a machine, a coworker he didn't ask for.
"Go away, Connor."
Obey him, Connor.
I turn around and walk to the door. I don't want to leave. I want to stay with Hank, to explain to him every confused thought I have about everything, I want to tell him I don't hate him, I want to talk about her, I want to talk about everything at once. But the words freeze on my tongue, too much words to say with such a limited mean. I can't express all my thoughts at the same time, I can't follow each thread without forgetting where I started, I can't use only one word at a time to explain everything I want to explain.
I stand there, under the snow. When Hanks shoots and Sumo begins to bark, I don't move. It's too late anyways.