Home (n)

1. a place where one's dwelling affections lie

2. a building in which one resides

3. a person's native land


Home.

The word holds no personal meaning for her. The large and empty apartment she currently inhabits merely serves as a means of temporary placement. She does not have a home.

This does not trouble her: she does not feel the need to be troubled. That is a fact, in all practicality. She does not doubt fact because that is irrational.

She is not irrational.

Quite simply, Yuki Nagato has never felt the need for anything because she had not been created to need anything. Wanting and needing were for selfish human desires. She is neither selfish, nor human.

A bell rings suddenly, and there is an instant flurry of activity. She registers three conversations in the immediate vicinity.

"-I can't, I promised my parents I'd be home for dinner-"

"-you can come over to my house this weekend, or we could watch a movie-"

"-let's walk home together-"

Just as abruptly, the organic life forms are all gone, their idle chatter gone with them. She is still staring vacantly at the book on her desk.

[YUKI.N: no home and nowhere to belong .]

Blinking, she terminates the thought process. Unnecessary musings are illogical. She does not need to expend her mental capacities on illogical things. They will only distract her from her assignment.

Her assignment is the priority.

But she is walking down a deserted hallway when she abruptly decides that her place of origin is her home.

A tall white room with tall white pillars. That is how she remembers it.


[INTERFACE_2 (query): location /q;]

It is very dim. Too dim to properly register color or shapes. There are, however, clear clicking and whirring noises resonating around her. They echo loudly throughout the space and in her auditory sensors.

Her vision is not adjusting.

A sudden flicker of light illuminates the area. It casts no shadows, and then it is gone. Slowly, she directs her attention towards the light source, just as it flares again with brightness.

She stares blankly, even as her visual field is blotted out in white.

A flat, toneless frequency is uttering something. Various garbled responses cluster around her, out of sight. They are everywhere at once.

She listens and does not understand.

"Defective," they are saying, quickly and efficiently. "Need more time. Reprogram."

"There is no time," is the quick and efficient reply.

She cannot comprehend the overlapping sounds. Her mental processes cannot analyze the situation, nor her role here.

[INTERFACE_2 (query): identity /q;]

The frequencies repeat. "Defective. Reprogram."

"Humanoid Interface."

"Defective. Sentiment bandwidth influx."

"There is no time."

She has a physical form. It is fastened flat onto something. She notes this as the disembodied noises pass over and around her, murmuring incessantly all the while. The weight of her body seems to settle in slowly. She feels bulky and strange.

Finite.

She is staring into darkness, one with no beginning and no end, when the sounds die away. There is a pause. Then, lonely beams of light stretch upward, like pale fingers.

Towers. Pillars.

[INTERFACE_2 (query): purpose /q;]

An audio frequency starts again, but the clicks and whirs sharpen with meaning. "Mission statement. Locate source of recent data explosion, subject Haruhi Suzumiya, and observe. Report any newfound data back to the Integrated Data Entity. Independent action is prohibited without prior authorization."

She can still see the white pillars, even when they fade to black.


[YUKI.N: is that "home" ?]


"Yo, Nagato."

She looks up from her book, nudging at the glinting glasses perched on her nose. He's watching her. The organic life form referenced as "Kyon."

"Aren't you going?" he asks. "Everyone's left already."

She blinks. Turning her head, she slowly surveys the clubroom. The assorted costumes are hung up, the primitive forms of mental stimulation ("board games," the ESPer calls them) are put away, and the rudimentary data processor is switched off.

There are only two shadows slanted on the floor.

She returns her gaze to the human's. Her book closes with a dulled thud. "I did not realize the time."

"I didn't think so," he replies, shouldering his school bag. She says nothing. Kyon pauses, shifting his weight. "Erm, I'll walk with you."

She processes this scenario as uncommon, and abruptly examines the human's expression. Even with her sizable margin of error, there seems to be no coded message in his facial features. Following her limited knowledge of human conduct patterns, she concludes that the human's unease, combined with his offer, most likely translates to a willingness for discussion.

She nods once in reply.

"It's warm today," Kyon says as they walk out onto the school grounds. "Hopefully Haruhi won't make us join another sports' tournament."

She deems it unnecessary to respond. 531.26 seconds later, Kyon clears his throat.

"Ne, Nagato…" he begins. "Are you alright?"

"I am well," she answers, aware that this is the standard reply for such social interactions.

His facial muscles tighten minutely. A frown. "You sure? You've been quiet today… well, quieter than usual anyway, and you seem kinda out of it."

Her skin temperature is 37.0 degrees Celsius. Her systems are online and properly functioning. Her physical form is in accordance with good human health.

Her cerebral processors have not been completely focused on her task.

"I am well," she repeats.

Kyon stops. She stops as well. His frown has deepened.

"You know..." He hesitates, then sighs. "You can tell me if something's wrong. I know I'm a 'lesser being,' and what I can do is pretty limited, but... just because you're different... It doesn't matter."

Her expression does not change. This minimizes superfluous energy loss.

"It doesn't mean that you're any less," Kyon continues. "You're actually a lot better, since you're an, uh, alien. But you knew that. I mean that you're not alone. And so you can share things. If you need to. If you want... You're one of us now."

Her skin temperature is 37.0 degrees Celsius. Her systems are online and properly functioning. Her physical form is in accordance with good human health.

There is a foreign sensation lurking in her torso.

[YUKI.N (error): sentiment_template not found ;]

"I see," she says finally.

You're one of us now.

[YUKI.N (query): define /q;]

Slowly, the human's shoulders ease. His frown disappears.

"Okay."

[YUKI.N: home .]