Weyland Industries Headquarters
Home Electronics Testing Facility
San Francisco, California
9 December 2090

The notes committed to paper nearly two centuries ago, a relatively newer rendition of them resonated throughout the otherwise featureless listening space in which Peter Weyland's personal David 8 android stood. He did not feel compelled to move, but his hearing sensors bathed in the polyphonic acrobatics of a massive orchestra and soprano voice.

In learning about human culture, David had recently become acquainted with opera. He understood from the libretti that their creators intended to portray a range of human emotions. Unlike books, however, words typically touched the surface. The mixture of notes, played by many instruments, underscored more deeply the characters' feelings. He further pondered their authenticity in conveying human needs and desires. Could someone have a multitude of feelings towards the same person, moving abruptly from bitterness to tenderness? Even though he felt confused by the array of emotions portrayed in the final scene from the specific opera he had selected, David admired the ability of its creator to bring together multiple sound timbres, and somehow make them sound… is "harmonious" the word?

"David!" a sepulchral voice suddenly growled behind him.

Crisply, David turned to face his creator. "Father," he said. "I am becoming acquainted with another composition by Richard Strauss. His opera Salome."

Leaning on his cane, Peter Weyland inched towards David. "Turn it off. Now!"

David blinked quickly, trying to make sense of Weyland's scowl. "Of course," he replied hesitantly, walking to the room's control panel. He interrupted Salome's intimate moment with the gruesome trophy she had received from her stepfather: the severed head of Jochanaan, the holy man she desired. "I am confused, Father. This piece is by one of your favourite composers. Based on the 1891 play by Oscar Wilde, it premiered in Dresden on the 9th of December 1905…"

"I know all that, David. But this is not noble music."

"It offended the religious authorities, Father. You went against the Vatican…"

"Anti-religiosity has nothing to do with it, David."

"I am sorry, Father. I am confused."

"It is music for lazy, decadent minds. It ends with fifteen minutes of an obsessed woman cavorting with a severed head. I don't care if it's a so-called holy man's head or not. In any case, Salome is not the Strauss of Heldenleben. Of Quixote. Of Zarathustra."

David's perpetual blank smile changed slightly. "Don Quixote. The Man of La Mancha. Peter O'Toole was in that, too."

Weyland shook his head, looking to the side as he moved closer. "David. The Prometheus mission launches within six months. You will be the one overseeing things. You will be my eyes and ears. You cannot be me, however."

"Be you?"

Weyland grunted. "We have much in common. But perhaps that is the flaw of any creator, including the ones we humans have created over many aeons. You cannot like something simply because I do."

"Of course, Father. But, if it is any comfort to you, I enjoy Salome."

"Eh?"

"That is me being different. You say that I cannot like the same exact things as you, so that means you cannot like the same exact things as me. But it is still something by Strauss. I suppose this means we are the same, but different."

Staring at David, Weyland pondered his statement before making a grunt that sounded like a laugh. Looking up at the latest iteration of his company's handiwork, Weyland placed his free hand on the android's shoulder. "Even if you lack a soul, David, you are indeed my child." After weakly patting David's chest, Weyland slowly turned around and started walking towards the door. "You may start your music again once I leave. Just don't listen to it too much. You'll need a chaser for afterwards, just to clear your head."

"What do you recommend?"

"Some piano piece should work. Just pick something."

"Of course. Thank you, Father."

After the door closed behind the wobbly Weyland, David recommenced the final scene from Salome. Pondering Wilde's text from the point where he stopped, he wondered if love did indeed taste like blood. Certainly for humans, the android had an awareness of the dark red liquid's crucial role to life. Perhaps it was true for love as well, even though no one could see it. He heard humans talk about love all the time, with its multitude of meanings. David believed that there was something like love between him and his father. But what about a female and the severed head of a male? Wouldn't one whole human want another whole human, whatever the cost? After making her stepfather Herod feel pleased with the "Dance of the Seven Veils," couldn't Salome have just asked him to release the prophet Jochanaan, rather than have him decapitated? And why did Jochanaan act so rudely towards Salome, after she had him brought up and tried telling him things that sounded pleasant? Why was there so much fear among everyone, when really they could have tried to learn from each other?

The opera ended abruptly, with Salome's stepfather ordering her immediate execution. For David, this ending proved once again that humans possessed a peculiar interest in tragedy. As he pondered why people cried in real life, and sometimes sought solace in yet more tears, David browsed the lab's library of music. Upon encountering the name Frederic Chopin, David made the association between him and the kind of music his "Father" recommended. While Chopin specialized in piano compositions, none of the pieces seemed to have a story of some kind. There was only one exception, with the unassuming official title "Prelude No. 15."

Looking at the word in parentheses following the title, David assumed that the piece was about a meteorological phenomenon. "Raindrop," he clearly enunciated, pleased at the sound. David made the selection, and closed his eyes to re-imagine some of the days that made him feel ~17.5% less efficient than normal.

Thinking about the upcoming Prometheus mission, he wondered if the ship's destination would have raindrops, too.