A/N - Thanks to Tin Miss for unintentionally spawning this plot bunny by saying "because terminators do not juggle" and for coming up with the title for this new drabble series. This is my dumping ground for all drabbles that don't fit into I'm Fine. Pairings will vary. Read the A/N or risk being scarred.
The balls rose up and came back down in a seemingly circular motion. The action was repetitive, timed, mathematical. Cameron liked math. Math was logical, it followed patterns and reason. Math did not deviate from the mission. Math did not have feelings and emotions that it could not explain. Math could not love. Math could not deceive. The balls that moved endlessly in the air, powered by her hands could not love or deceive either. They, like math, could not decide to do things that would jeopardize the mission. They could not malfunction and betray her.
She continued to juggle the tennis balls, one after the other, three total. Each one passed before her eyes in two second intervals. One. Two. Ball. One. Two. Ball. One. Two. Ball. Repeatedly. Over and over. Recurring. Persisting. Like time, like the dictionary which would survive even Judgment Day, like math. Like her?
The fingers of her left hand began to twitch and spasm uncontrollably. Cameron's head tilted as the balls fell to the floor, bouncing across the room out of her reach. She shook her head, remembering what lay below the surface just beside the port that housed her chip. Not like her, after all.