"You really do not sleep." he said, dumping the laundry basket into her hands before turning his back to her and climbing up the stairs, leaving her standing in the dark.
She looked down the bundle of dirty clothes, feeling a vague discomfort that she wouldn't have been able to articulate. Only by using the kind of metaphorical, unclear language that humans prefered, by drawing an analogy could she get a grip on what was going on and even than it seemed inadequate. The closest thing she could come up with was a short and sudden flash, similar to an electric shock followed by an even stranger tugging impression, like some kind of person had grabbed hold of her hand and was constantly pulling at it, as if to drag her into a certain direction. All of which was absurd, of course, she was completely alone. Cameron started a quick check up on her CPU, searching for a sign that she had been compromised but came up empty-handed. She felt the weight of the laundry basket (negligible even for a human of average or below average strength) and found it for some reason dragging at her arms. Turning her head she looked up the stair where John had vanished. It was not like she had a problem with doing his laundry. Cameron was always ready to serve the mission and non of the physical or psychological reasons a human might have to avoid such a task applied to her. She did not grow tired after all, did not know disgust, she was not lazy as many humans were, she normally couldn't be distracted, did not need the constant stimulation that the restless human brain needed and she alway knew where her priorities lay. Still for some reason Cameron simply did not want to do John Connor's laundry right now. She was unsure when or why she had started to expect things of him, knowing full well that she had neither a right nor a reason to do so. Yes, she could be hard and demanding if necessary, ignoring his wishes when they were antithetical to the mission but that was exclusively about him. Protecting him could and did include protecting him from himself, after all. But this was different. Forcing him to take care of things himself instead of getting others to do them could be a useful lesson in responsibility, a lesson that he indeed needed. Cameron possessed comprehensive data banks about human developmental psychology and Future John himself had told her that getting his younger self to shape up to be a capable leader would take more than just tactical and technical knowledge, though he had always been vague what the "else" might consist of.
But that was not the reason. Since meeting for the first time John had treated her in a way different from what she had known in all of her past experience. He seemed to treat her not categorically different from a human being and and he seemed ready to accept that she had an "inner life" of her own. It had once perplexed Cameron that so many humans did not believe that she actually had subjective experience and a sense of self, at first suspecting that the reason lay in the fact that most people did not have any noteworthy education in natural science, especially in the post Judgment Day era, where neither schools nor universities existed and were even basic skills like reading and writing had been threatened by extinction even more than the human race itself. After all, most scientists had no problem acknowledging that biological organisms far less complex than humans had subjective experiences and at least a rudimentary sense of self. Interestingly the humans she had met in this time, counting only those knowing about her identity of course, did not differ from their future counterparts in this regard. Cameron's sense perceptions and methods of processing information, as well as her ability to learn on her own, solve problems and integrate new knowledge organically was far more developed than in any living great apes or cetaceans, the flexibility and malleability of her software, designed for massively parallel processing, as well as her fine grain, reactive, self stabilising multicore CPU (unique to the TOK series as far as she knew) had been specifically created to emulate the strengths of biological brains in general and of course the human mind, that had caused SkyNet with it's mostly brute force based, linear computing such problems. She could easily explain why the usual preconceptions that the majority of people held were wrong but she had never actually bothered to do so. For one she had not really cared what anyone thought of her, not feeling insulted in the slightest by other persons judging her wrongly. She did not have a human need to protect a fragile ego after all. And of course she had found out, during her online research after jumping back in time and from simply watching, that humans that denied machines any kind of experience or truly autonomous agency not for intellectual but for emotional reasons. Humans had a desire to see themselves as special and unique, both as a species and as individuals, often believing propositions of doubtful validity, like the existance of a disembodied soul, a creator that had made the entire universe exclusively for their use and enjoyment, and similar concepts that allowed them to fulfill their wish to see the universe as not chaotic and chance driven. As far as Cameron was concerned, the probability that these claims were valid appeared to be rather low, the concept of believing aka accepting as factual without or even against evidence was not part of her basic programming, in fact conflicting with it in many ways and she did not share the biologically based needs that drove humans to believe in the first place. But as changing such deeply held convictions seemed difficult with low probability of success and the need for trying not very great, she had resolved to let the humans keep them.
General John Connor, was an exception, sharing his fellow humans' preconceptions only to a limited extent. He wasn't always consistent in this regard but that was humanly typical as well. His younger self seemed to be even more willing to treat her like a human being, not that she had ever desired to be treated thus. At first she had "chalked it up" to his obvious sexual desire for her and to the fact that she was physically appealing to a heterosexual, teenage male. Young John was simply ignoring her machinehood, trying to convince himself that she was indeed human. A typical case of human self deception, that could in certain circumstances grow into a problem. It wasn't good for John to be in denial about her nature, John Connor had to be able to make a realistic assessment of any given situation. But to her surprise she had found out in time that this wasn't the case. John was very much aware of her true nature, he just didn't care (much).Perhaps she had somehow gotten used to him treating her well and with respect. Not that she had been programmed with a desire to be treated that way, but perhaps the evolution of new desires was an unavoidable by product of new experiences, incorporating and processing an unending stream of outside impulses. Cameron's CPU was perhaps better equipped to integrate new concepts than every other cybernetic organism. Mental development was partially like organic chemistry after all, where simple rules allowed simple building blocks to come together as ever new and increasingly complex structures. Perhaps she had started to take it for granted to be accepted as an equal. If so, it was probably better to get a "wake up call". The situation did not look good overall for "Plan G" but that had always been only one of several possible scenarios. Still, what to do now?
three hours later
With a pained hiss Sarah held her hurting toe, propping herself up against the wall with her free hand. That loose board be damned. After waiting for a few second she put her foot down carefully and continued on her way. It still hurt but, well, Sarah Connor was well aquainted with far worse categories of pain. The kitchen door opened with a creak. A soft creak but in the complete silence of the Connor residence it sounded far louder than it was. Grimacing Sarah entered the dark room, searching for the light switch with her right hand, feeling the hard plastic under her fingertips and pressing down on it. Nothing happened. Sarah froze. There were many possible reasons for the lamp to not work, most of them banal. But there was also the possibility that somebody had cut their power to trap them in darkness and make them an easier target. A quick look confirmed that power could not be gone for the entire house, a tiny glowing point signalling that the dishwasher was ready to rumble. Well, so was Sarah. She was pretty sure that no real threat loomed and as much as she disliked the machine, a better guard dog they would find nowhere. Where was she, or rather it? Somewhere in the house or out "patrolling" the garden? No matter, she would intercept any intruder, that's what she does, the one thing she is good for, Sarah thought. She listened intently. No sound to be heard but her own controlled breathing and a low, almost insdiscernable hum. The fridge was also running as normal. In all probability the problem was the light bulb itself but the fuse having gone still couldn't be counted out. After all the fridge and the dish washer were connected to a different fuse than the lamp. Sarah alway made it her business to know such things, about every house she lived in. After all, knowing the terrain can make the difference between life and death. The probability of a terminator cutting of the electricity and entering the house like a cat burglar was not very high, they usually took the most direct way available and they could afford to be not that cautious, to say nothing about the alarm system backed up by a generator in the cellar. No, the only metal around was tin miss. But why not use the moment for a spontaneous little exercise? Sarah felt a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She had hounded John through countless such exercises, almost since he was able to stand upright. How to react to a potentially threatening situation, preparing for an emergency that could come crashing into everyday life with brutal suddenness was something that John had learned while others had been happy kindergarteners. And while she would always regret that he had never had a chance at being a normal child, she was at the same time mightily proud that he had taken to his lessons so well, even when barely more than a toddler and deep down she believed that he had also enjoyed it in his own way. Okay, perhaps that was more her private hope, that their unorthodox mother/son activities had not only been a chore for him. She remained standing where she was, waiting for her eyes to adjust themselves to the darkness. The moon was about two thirds full and growing, the night not nearly as dark as at first sight. In her current position, she could not seen through the kitchen window but as soon as she stepped up to the fridge or sink the silver light of the moon would make her quite visible even for puny human eyes. But on the other hand she needed to reach the sink to get to the loaded, sawed of shot gun hidden there together with a flashlight and her newest acquisition, a pair of night goggles. Sarah Connor needed her equipment if she wanted to solve the riddle of the (probably) broken light bulb and replace it commando style! She would accomplish this goal and do some patrolling of her own without waking up John. Tin Miss was useful, yes. Efficient, too. Had Cameron not been what she was, well more like, what she appeared to be, Sarah would certainly sleep easier. But it simply didn't do to depend only on her. Sarah went down on her knees and elbows, quickly and silently crawling/sliding towards the sink, passing under the silver beam of moon light that illuminated the upper half of the fridge, always staying in the shadows. As she sat up, her back pressed against the dishwasher while blindly pulling the shotgun, the night goggles and the flashlight from their hiding place under the sink, something that she would be able to accomplish even if really blind, Sarah realised in a rather surreal moment that the laundry basket she had left in her son's care was sitting squarely on the kitchen table. She just had not seen it before her eyes had gotten used to the shade. Apparently John had not only abstained from stuffing his dirty clothes into the washing machine, he had put it where it definitely didn't belong.
Was this some bizarre gesture of teenage rebellion, trying to show his mother that he cared neither for her instructions nor for her sense of hygiene? Why can't they stay ten forever, Sarah mused. Of course a ten years old would find it hard to be taken seriously as the savior of mankind but Sarah was ready to swear every oath that he had been more grown up then. She sighed softly. Chosen one or not, all the nurture of the world could not overcome nature when it came to teenagers and their hormones. Well, infantile stupidity would not stop her from getting her spontaneous exercise. The tiredness was as blown away, just like the thirst that had driven her from her bed in the first place and the throbbing pain in her left big toe. Only the adrenaline pulsed through her veins, heightening her senses, leaving her tense like a coil. If she returned to bed now she would only toss and turn for the rest of the night, nothing like a bit of training to get it all out of her system and to forget the nightmare that had woken her, at least until it returned in an other night. Sarah made sure that the shotgun was really loaded, she knew it was, but double checking everything was part of the course. She knew all the weapons hidden in every room of the house more intimately than any lover she had ever had, if necessary she could take them apart, put them back together in even the deepest pitch black night and she was reasonably sure that she could hit a man only using her sense of hearing. Not that would be enough against a terminator. Holding the weapon with the right hand, she slipped the band of the night goggles over her head, pushing and pulling them until they fit comfortably. Satisfied she raised her head, ready to start seriously scouring the house before finally replacing the broken bulb. Holy shit. The next thing Sarah knew, she was almost jumping out of her skin as she looked directly into the face of the machine, staring back at her blankly, without any discernible expression, tilting her head slightly to the side. The damn tin miss had been there all the time and she had not even noticed her. Sarah felt her ego deflate quite a bit, so much for heightened senses. Okay, so the cyborg had been sitting on a chair in the darkest corner of the room, protected by the thickest shadows, completely unmoving in the way only a machine could and of course she didn't need to breathe. Still it put things into a different perspective, effectively exorcised every wish to continue her midnight training from Sarah and it was more than a tad embarrassing. She felt the warmth in her cheeks rising and ground her teeth together, knowing that Cameron was well able to see it. But in the end, was it not unnesseray to be embarrassed? After all being watched by Cameron was probably the same as being watched by a toaster, right? She didn't really care about anything, did she? Unfortunately Sarah failed to completely convince herself.
"What the hell are you doing here?" She hissed.
Remembering the flashlight she turned it on directly shining into the tin miss' face. She did not exactly know the extent of Cameron's sense abilities but perhaps her visual sensors were similar enough to human eyes to be blinded, at least for a moment. Sarah sincerely hoped that that was the case, though Cameron had not actually done anything she wished for at least a tiny bit of revenge for the scare the cyborg girl had given her and and to somehow balance a situation that, despite no sign of hostility, seemed to put Cameron in a position of such superiorty that it was unbearable. Cameron did not do Sarah the favor of flinching or blinking, remaining completely unmoved as the powerful flashlight sent it's light cone at her face.
"I am sitting." came the monotonous answer.
"No shit, smartass. Why are you sitting here? Shouldn't you be patrolling or something?"
"I was." Cameron answered. "I returned from last patrol eleven minutes ago and I wanted start the next one when I heard your door open."
Sarah snorted.
"So you decided to play a little prank on me, see if you could cause me to have a heart attack."
"No," Cameron said sharply, surprising Sarah once again by sounding genuinely defensive, almost... hurt?
"That was not my intention."
After short moment she added: "I would not do that. Your are John's mother and he needs you. He would not approve of such an act." Two trains of thought entered Sarah's consciousness at the same time. One: Well, you would have him all for yourself, if it really happened. She dismissed it at once. What could Cameron really want from John, it was not like she was a real, hormone driven teenage girl. Or even a girl. She had no gender, was a thing, neuter. Than why do you keep referring to her as she, a tiny voice nagged her, she ignored it as good as possible.
Two: It's unusual for her to explain her actions and the intentions behind them, at least without someone pulling it out her nose. Normally she just answers yes or no. You are still thinking of her as a person, the voice whispered.
Sarah rose from her sitting position and put the shotgun on the table, laying the flashlight beside it so that it continued to shine directly at the machine. Her palms were moist, the short moment of shock had been enough to create some perspiration, so she wiped them of on her already sweat soaked t-shirt.
"You do realise the kitchen lamp is broken?" she asked, trying to sound cool and controlled again.
"Yes," Cameron answered matter of factly. Sarah let herself fall onto on of the chairs.
"And you did not think about changing it? Preferring to lurk around in the dark? For how long? Is that your way of making yourself useful?"
"I searched for the new bulbs we bought from Walmart two days ago but I could not find them. I can only guess that they still in your bedroom with some of the other purchases." Cameron explained calmly.
Sarah tried to remember. Oophs. It seemed that there had been a slight oversight on her part. Frustratingly every time she believed she had nailed the tin miss down for some strange or creepy behavior it turned out to be something quite mundane, even reasonable. Perhaps you should be glad that she is not as strange and creepy as you thought, perhaps even somebody you can trust with your son's life in case something happens, the little voice whispered. Fuck You! Sarah answered and ordered the voice to shut up. If she/it is not strange and creepy than nobody/nothing is. And she will get her claws on my son only over my dead, rotting body.
Out loud she said: "Oh, so you thought about barging in and waking me up but were too considerate to disturb me in the end."
Her voice dripped with sarcasm. Cameron did not answer.
"Oh, and by the way, you really could have said or done something when I came into the kitchen."
"Why?"
The question sounded sincere and innocent, making Sarah's blood boil.
"It's just impolite."
Even in her own ears it sounded pretty lame.
"I'm sorry." the girl (Argh! The machine, machine, machine, damn it.) said. "I had detected no sign of danger, so I assumed you were playing a kind of game, like paintball. John told me that you often played paintball when he was younger. It is useful as a way of combat training, while at the same time fun for the whole family."
The last sentence sounded like she was reciting some kind of crazy survivalist propaganda from the Internet verbatim, Sarah almost asked her just see if her suspicion was correct but decided against it. Despite Cameron actually being close to the truth once again, she just had to counter.
"Paintball is played with at least two people. And with paint."
Really great Sarah, now you are reduced to stupid quibbles.
"Oh. Thank your for explaining."
Sarah stared at the machine, looking over the still frustrating, still unexplained and still unhygienic laundry basket. She wasn't even sure anymore if John had placed it where it was, or if Cameron had done it, if so why, if not why she had not put it away. But she refrained from asking, feeling that she would explode if she got one more maddeningly common sensible answer out of the tin miss. Right now she prefered not to know so that she could seeth in anger undisturbed by infuriating sensible machines. Having someone you could be angry at to your heart's content was very liberating.
"We could play together if you want.", the girl machine suggested suddenly.
Sarah frowned deeply, holding back (with effort) the sharp answer on her tongue, while trying to figure out what this bizarre new gambit might mean. If Cameron had been a human, Sarah would have suspected that she wanted to make fun of her. But she didn't do things like that. Cameron was in many ways an enigma to Sarah but she was pretty sure about one or two things. Among them the fact that cyborg didn't have anything that could be called a sense of humor. On the other hand Sarah did not believe that Cameron was actively malicious. Playing mind games or purposely befuddle someone didn't fit her profile, except when it served her mission. Oh, she was ruthless enough to make the Devil envious, like any terminator, but it was a cool, detached kind of ruthlessness without the sadistic passion for cruelty that human beings so often demonstrated. And it almost sounded like she wanted to do something nice for Sarah, in what way would that further her mission.
"If you are trying to suck up me, forget it."
Cameron slowly shook her head.
"I am just making conversation."
"Yeah, sure. You want to make conversation? Fine. First question: Why did you offer to play paintball with me? As I said, brownnosing won't work."
Sarah could not for the life of her explain why she was even wasting her time instead of going back to bed and she didn't know what kind of answer she expected.
"Paintball is a useful training..."
"Yeah, you already said that." Sarah interrupted. "Making John that offer makes sense, I would even approve of it. But why me?"
"You could use some training. Your reflexes are sub par and you could be more careful." the machine commented.
Humph. Great, that's what you get from small talk with Cyborgs. Not that she is necessarily wrong, of course. Unfortunately, she rarely is. Bitch.
But Cameron wasn't done yet: "I thought that such an undertaking could have a positive effect on your wellbeing, decrease your stress level and improve our relationship."
Sarah's eyes widened in mock surprise. "You mean like a girl's night out to have some fun so we get to know each other better, just the two of us, like the best of friends!"
Cameron shook her head again.
"No, John would come with us of course, so I can protect him."
"Oh, my bad. Problem is, I'm not interested in being your friend, Tin Miss."
Cameron nodded.
"As you wish. But it would be easier to work together if we were friends."
Sarah blinked unbelieving. This was the longest conversation she had ever had with the machine, perhaps the first real conversation at all and it was not going at all like she had expected. And she did not like the fact at all that it felt like talking to a real person instead of a glorified pocket calculator. Truth be told, had she not known that Cameron was a cyborg, or that machines like her existed at all, she would have never doubted her humanity. It would even been a pleasure talking to her, a teenage girl that seemed intelligent, thoughtful, polite (well, most of the time), all in all very mature for her age. Yes, a bit strange, perhaps even suffering from some mild form of autism and certainly pretty quiet and serious, but being quiet and serious isn't a bad thing. Face the fact, you would have liked her, at least she isn't such a shallow airhead as far to many young women seem to be these days. That last part, brought to me by the little voice of my subconscious, Sarah thought, is especially underhanded, seeing as I pretty much was a shallow airhead myself, right up until I had a date with the future in the form of Kyle Reese and got knocked up.
"You do not trust me." Cameron continued. "That is to be expected, up to a point and shows that you are concerned about John's safety. But the constant, high level of hostility can have negative repercussions on our performance as a team and it puts John and yourself under an unneccessary level of stress, that could be bad for your health."
Sarah rose and stepped up to the fridge.
"Originally I came to get a glass of water but I think I need something a little stronger now."
She took a bottle out of the fridge, thinking about getting a glass before deciding against it and just opening the bottle, taking a deep swig.
"I would offer you something as well but..."
"A glass of water, please." Cameron said, surprising Sarah again.
She looked at the machine, still sitting unmoved since Sarah had entered the kitchen, both of her hands placed on her thighs, palms down, back straight, perfectly poised. Like a damn educational film that tried to show school children to sit correctly and avoid getting back pains. Wordlessly she opened the cup board, taking out a glass.
Sarah expected Cameron to only nip the water, like she mostly did when "eating". Instead she guzzled down the liquid in on fell swoop before carefully placing the empty glass on the table.
"So why worry about my health? What's it to you? It's not like you care if I live or die." Sarah continued to drill.
She was curious despite herself and this curiosity was growing even though she tried to curb it. On the other hand it was not wrong to be curious. Cameron was, for the time being, a fact of their life, it was important to understand how she functioned. And if she did turn against them, every bit of information could be useful in eliminating her once and for all. On the other hand, the little voice once again, for once on the side of reason, it's better to keep a distance. Even if she stays true to us, it would be dangerous to see anything but a tool in her. John unfortunately did so since day one, all the more reason to be careful. When she has to be taken out you can't allow anything to stay your hand, not even for a second. Even the fraction of a second could be to much.
"Your are John's mother, his primary teacher and secondary protector. Even if you make mistakes and could improve your training regimen, for a human you are very effective." Cameron explained.
"Geeh, thanks."
"Your continued presence is important for John's development and overall wellbeing. Your loss would do psychological damage and hamper his performance."
Sarah took another swig from the bottle.
"Of course the day will come when he does not need me any longer. After all a real man has to cut the umbilical cord someday. And a hero and savior more than anyone else, right?"
Her fingers closed around the bottleneck so hard that Cameron considered warning the woman that she would break the glass and cut herself but before she could do so Sarah stood up again to put the bottle back into the fridge. That's how it goes, Sarah thought, you are giving them everything, sacrificing everything but it is okay, it's worth it a thousand times. But than comes the day when you have fulfilled your biological function, when you become the problem instead of the solution, when it is time to slink of into obscurity to let them shine on their own. And what then? The garbage dump of history? It was a profoundly selfish thought, not something a mother who loved her son more than life itself and was proud of him should entertain. But always placing everything and everyone, even one's own beloved child, ahead of oneself, was hard work at four o'clock in the morning. One more reason to dislike the metal: Her mere presence gave Sarah the feeling of being herded toward the gaping abyss of obsolence faster and faster. Bullshit. That glorified pocket calculator will never make me obsolete. But that could be another avenue on the way to figuring her/it (it!) out.
"And when he doesn't need me anymore, when I become more of a ballast than anything else, what happens then? Ready to put me out of my misery if necessary?"
The question was deliberately formulated to be cruel and underhanded for a human being. Sarah did not believe it possible to "hurt" Cameron's "feelings" but she decided to take the bait. Be it the alcohol or something else, keeping one's distance be damned, now or never she wanted to find out. Was there even the slightest chance that there was something behind those big, pretty eyes? Sarah was still ready to bet no, but even if she was wrong, did it matter in the end? I would kill any and every human that threatened John, I am pretty confident in that, what should stop me from doing that to a machine, even if by some miracle she did have something like a soul? This time it took a while for Cameron to answer, she was staring directly at Sarah but strangely the older woman felt like the cyborg girl was looking straight through her, fixating in truth on something behind her back. She almost wanted to turn around just to make sure that there was nothing and the unnerving thought was baseless.
"No."
Short and simple but...
"Took you a while for such a short answer." Sarah said sardonically.
Another shake of the cyborg's pretty head.
"I am detecting a pattern in your questions and answers." she said.
"Really. What pattern could that be?"
"You are twisting everything I say in a way that is supposed to make it sound morally abhorrent according to your own standards. You are deliberately putting words in my mouth. You are ascribing motives that I don't have, insinuating that I want to hurt you or John in some way. But I don't think that I ever gave you a reason to think I was intending to do such a thing."
Sarah was taken aback, shocked even. Cameron's face was unmoving as it was most of the time, her voice soft spoken as ever but with a hint of passion in her... outburst.
Quickly regaining her bearing Sarah fired back: "I'm not calling you a villain here and do you know why? Because I don't believe you have enough personality to be evil. Only beings with souls can be truly evil and you are not a member of that club. You are just a tool programmed to do your job. Unfortunately morality is not part of your job description."
"I AM a tool and I am doing what I was programmed to do." Cameron confirmed. "And if you do not like that you should take it up to your son's future self. He is the one who gave me my instructions."
Sarah needed several seconds to register the fact that her mouth was open. There was a truth to the girl's words that she could not deny. Future John, the great General Connor had sent Cameron Philips back through time. Future John had reprogrammed Cameron, he had decided on her mission parameters and even if he had given her a certainly leeway in going abount her duty, it did not seem realistic to assume that he had not known how she would make use of it. While Sarah did not believe that morality could truly be programmed, at least not moral sentiment, it was hard to see why it should not have been possible for Future John to set clearer guidelines for outward behaviour. True moral sentiment, moral feelings perhaps could not be recreated in a soulless machine, no matter how advanced but if Cameron did behave in a way that lacked regard for human life, could it be for another reason than that her future reprogrammers had not cared enough themselves? Could her own son's future self escape the blame for this malady? An icy shudder rolled through Sarah as she realised that the answer was probably, no. The only way around this conundrum was assigning to the machine the same kind of moral agency, even if a actively malicious one, that she had already denied to her. Damn. You are really getting into the defensive, Sarah.
"Do me a favor and stop talking about things you could never possibly understand, like morals." she hissed, the anger that had receded, overcome by doubt, boiling up again. She ignored conveniently that she had brought up the morals question.
Sarah might not be overly religious but this had the stink of blasphemy all the same. Even if it was not blasphemy against God, who might or might not exist, it was a mockery of everything that was important and sacred to her, as well as to everything she had tried to impart to her son. Blasphemy was the only word that fit the offense.
"Morality has to do with things like free will, choosing to do the right thing. Not just following orders that are programmed into you. Being moral means following convictions, to live by values, values that actually have meaning to those who hold them."
Cameron looked down, her lips slightly parted as she bit down on the lower one, looking for all the world like she was deep in thought.
"Stop that!" Sarah grumbled, the anger had burned away the adrenaline, leaving her tired.
Cameron looked up again, tilting her head questioningly.
"Stop making faces and trying to look human. It doesn't suit you."
Cameron blinked and continued to stare. "Facial expressions show what people feel on the inside. It's like body language. You don't consciously control it. As a human, I mean." Sarah explained.
She felt the first stirrings of a headache. Obviously she would regret wasting time with the Tin Miss, if not now then in the morning. Sleeping in was not an option for Sarah Connor. Cameron watched as Sarah pressed her eyes shut while slowly rubbing her temples. She opened her mouth but before the first tone could leave it, Sarah continued, her eyes still closed.
"When you do that it's calculated to get an effect out of someone, it's dishonest, manipulative."
Something hit the table with a sharp slapping sound and such force that it seemed the entire piece of furniture made a jump, at least a few centimeters high from the ground.
Sarah bolted from her table, grabbing her shotgun in one fluid motion. Cameron calmly sat in her place, only her left arm was lying on the table. "Are you crazy?" Sarah hissed, looking ready and willing to blast away.
"I made a decision." Cameron explained softly.
"What?"
"I did something at random, that I was not programmed to do and that you clearly did not expect."
"Free will has nothing to do with randomness or acting crazy."
"Oh. Then I have a real problem understanding the concept. I will need to do further research." Cameron said dejectedly.
Her big, brown orbs looked at Sarah questioningly: "Is it possible that your definition is contradictory?"
In one of the rooms above them steps were to be heard, than a door opened and the lights in the corridor were switched on. The steps quickly moved through the corridor, than a scratching and shuffling sound followed by a sharp click, than somebody ran or rather almost jumped down the stairs.
"Mom! Cameron!"
Well, at least he still calls for me first, Sarah thought with some satisfaction before making intentions to answer, without taking her eyes and weapon of Cameron and moving towards the kitchen door. Who knew, it was still possible that she had gotten some of her wires crossed even if she seemed completely calm.
"John, it's..."
Cameron jumped up, her eyes widening.
"Careful, John. There is..."
"Ow, shit!"
"...a loose board." the cyborg finished.
Next thing, John pushed open the creaking kitchen door, the assault rifle with the armor breaking munition ready, a wild, primal look in his eyes, his hair in complete disarray but obviously ready to do battle and defend those dear to him. It actually was a pretty heroic entrance except for the slight hobble, caused by the same loose floor board that Sarah had already stubbed her toe on on the way to the kitchen. As he saw in the light that fell from the corridor into the room, that nobody but Cameron and Sarah was present, the door leading from the still dark kitchen out into the garden intact, he immediately lowered the weapon. Not perfect, Sarah thought. He discounts her as a threat far too quickly, even if she isn't in this case. He sees the shotgun in my hand, the more natural reaction would have been to assume that I have a reason to carry it.
Cameron stepped forward and put her hand on his arm.
"I'm sorry John. It is my fault, I did something stupid and woke you up. There is no threat except for the loose board that I should have repaired."
Cameron's artificial facial muscles started doing their work, her upper eye lids drooping, her big brown doe eyes loosing focus and slightly turning downwards, just as her lip corners did the same. The blatantly manipulative way the cyborg used a realistic, contrite expression infuriated Sarah so much that she found herself itching to blast the Tin Miss with the shotgun just because. As always John's face lightened up at seeing her and hearing her voice even if he promptly tried to hide it for his mother's sake. Than he looked around in confusion.
"Jesus, I thought Cromartie was breaking down the kitchen door."
"Unlikely," Cameron commented. "He would use the front door with a probability of 78,859 percent."
John questioningly looked back and forth between the two females.
"Than what is going on?"
"Better question." Sarah countered. "Why do you barge in like this if you think it is Cromartie, instead of doing what you are supposed to do in such an eventuality."
She looked her son hard in the eyes, John seemed to shrink a bit, looking less like the battle ready young hero in the process. Still the caveman instinct to come to the defence of his family did not leave him, so he withstood her disapproving gaze.
"You can't expect me to just run for the hills while you and Cameron duke it out with Cromartie." he said defiantly.
"That is exactly what you will do if and when it happens, do you understand?"
"Mom..."
"If what Cameron and I do means anything to, if you respect us, you will run." Sarah added, now more imploring than commanding, not caring that she was declaring Cameron to be part of the inner circle with her words or that she was the one now, who used the boy's obvious and misguided feelings for the beautiful cyborg against him.
Cameron used her grip on John's arm to direct him to one of the kitchen chairs, motioning for him to sit down. John was perplexed but yielded to her will, the assault rifle still dangling in his hand. Before he knew what was happening Cameron had crouched down to have a quick look at his toe. While John was clearly not liking the thought of the machine of his dreams kneeling on the kitchen floor, another caveman instinct was awoken in him, the the little chauvinist lurking in every male that is happy like a pig to have every female of the household taking care of his whims and catering to his needs. He winced as Cameron touched the wounded digit, the left pinkie toe.
Our hero, Sarah thought dryly.
"Sarah is right, John." Cameron said softly. "You are not ready to face the enemy yet and even..."
John snorted loudly. "Yeah, the story of my life. When will I be ready then?"
"For blindly charging into battle, alone and without recon? Never, I'd hope." Sarah said cooly, watching John's ego deflate further.
Cameron rose, content that no substantial harm had been done and the pain would probably be forgotten tomorrow morning. She gingerly placed a hand on his arm for the second time, John instinctively wanted to put his own hand over hers but both the assault rifle he was still holding with one hand and his mother's watchful gaze stopped him from putting the thought into action.
"John Connor does not save humanity by recklessly endangering his own life or by getting into fistfights with terminators. He does by planning strategy and perhaps even more important by organising the resistance into a coherent whole, holding humanity together, motivating them to grow beyond their perceived limitations and do the impossible and never give up, by finding and recognising talent wherever it may be and by not being just some lone hero for everyone else but by helping, encouraging and allowing everyone to be a hero for mankind."
John and Sarah were both speechless but the younger Connor found his voice again first. "Well, sounds great, but it could also mean that Future Me is a coward who lets others do his dirty work." "No," Cameron said vehemently, shaking her head. "General Connor regularly leads from the front and he never expects others to do what he has not already proven ready to do himself. But he also knows his limits and the fact that there are tasks that others are better suited for. Finding the right person for the right task is one of his greatest gifts. He just isn't reckless and he doesn't want his soldiers to be either. He knows that which battles can be won at a certain time and which can't and when it is time to make a withdrawal to renew the fight when things are more in his favor. But of course he does not passively wait for the circumstance to change but works to create his own chances."
Sarah arched one of her eye brows, while John's ears took on a light, reddish color as Cameron fired of her passionate (at least sounding that way) defense of Future John. Sarah could not help but be amused as she saw John switch back and forth between being ambarrassed when identifying himself with the object of her praise and being jealous of his own future self.
"So, ahem, is that my dirty laundry, on the table?"
"Yeah, good question, John." his mother said with grin.
With a few, quick movements she had put the shotgun, the night goggles and the flashlight back into their hiding place under the sink and took the assault rifle from her son's hands, putting it onto the table instead.
"I seem to remember that I told you to put it into the washing machine."
John was really fidgeting now.
"Well, I..."
He turned to Cameron, clearly looking for help but the cyborg suddenly seemed exceedinly interested in watching the moon through the kitchen window.
"I'm waiting."
"That's my fault as well, Sarah."
Finally, Tin Miss to the rescue, thought Sarah as Cameron started to explain the history of the laundry basket. At first a self-satisfied, little smirk played on John lips, thinking himself lucky for being off the hook but it quickly faded and was replaced by shock and widened eyes as the cyborg girl's apparent rescue attempt turned into subtle "take that" against himself.
"And so I thought that it would be in John's own best interest to do his laundry himself." Cameron concluded her explanation.
Sarah had lived through a veritable roller-coaster of emotions since leaving her bed to moisten her parch dry throat but now had to admit admiration for the subtle way the machine had trapped her lazy son in his own web. Of course that did not explain why she had been sitting in the kitchen with the dirty stuff instead of simply leaving it in the laundry room. Laundry room is good, I would have thrown the whole bundle into his face, if I had been in her place. There you go again, she sighed mentally, treating her like a real girl that has been treated badly by a boy. If what she does is an infiltration technique it is perhaps effective after all, at least with people that think with heart to much (or their neither regions in John's case). Problem is, I can't really think of a single thing that she couldn't get in another, more direct way, and far quicker at that. Except...
"So you told her to do your housework for you!"
Sarah seemed to tower over a fidgeting John who seemed to shrink at the same pace his mother was growing larger and more imposing. She grabbed his chin.
"The tin miss is right John, if you want to be a leader you can't take the easy way, you can't get used to push your dirty work onto others."
John dared to defend himself. "Well, she talked about delegating..."
"Delegating is not the same as letting others do the inconvenient things you are to lazy to do yourself. Who knows, could be that some day the right thing to do is "delegate" the really cool and rewarding stuff and keep the really hard and crappy things for yourself. And you know what they say about first having to serve before one can lead." Sarah's eyes drilled into her son's.
"Okay, okay, I was an asshole but don't you think you're overreacting a bit? People in the future won't say: "John Connor is such a horrible guy, he skipped laundry duty once! We'll never listen to anything he says!"
"Well, who knows. If there was a pattern of skipping, maybe they would."
Sarah continued to stare, making her son sweat until suddenly the left corner of her mouth twitched. Just a little bit but John had noticed. His forehead creased and he stuck out his chin.
"You're making fun of me, are you." he said accusingly.
Sarah chuckled. "Maybe, a little. You should have seen your face. But nonetheless it's true, so..."
She shoved the overflowing basket at him.
"Laundry. Tomorrow. First thing in the morning. Not just switching on the washing machine, but hanging out as well. No buts."
John resigned himself to his fate and nodded obediently.
"Yes, ma'am."
Sarah turned to the cyborg.
"Should it happen one day that you manage to catch yourself a boyfriend, first thing to know is, how to make him sweat when he acts like an asshole."
John's eyes widened in shocked disbelief. Was his mother really giving Cameron of all people advice on relationships?
"Are you still here?" Sarah asked frowning, as he continued to stand in the doorway, as if glued to the spot, his mouth gaping.
She pointed imperiously in the direction of the cellar door. John suppressed a sigh. He really looked forward to returning to bed after taking the basket down to the laundry room. But something bugged him.
"Wait, I still wanna know what you were up to and what made that crash." He looked at Cameron. "And what do you mean with doing something stupid."
"Need to know basis soldier." Sarah said. "And as your commanding officer, I order you to forget everything. You will get up tomorrow, early, and you will not remember anything but having a peaceful night."
John rolled his eyes but he gave up. After trying, without success, to make eye contact with his cyborg protector, who had returned to her usual stoic countenance, he trotted away, softly grumbling. After the cellar door fell shut Cameron's head shot up.
"You should perhaps allow him to sleep a bit longer tomorrow, to compensate for the disturbance. Enough sleep is important for his health."
Sarah watched her with an arched brow.
"For someone talking about responsibility, you certainly go soft on him. Tomorrow is training sunday, won't change plans for no good reason."
Cameron looked dejectedly to the ground. Sarah was too tired to get angry or unnerved at her for play acting again.
"Now that I wouldn't wake up anybody, I could quickly repair the loose board, so that nobody gets hurt getting up tomorrow." the cyborg girl offered.
"I think we'll whither that grave threat." Sarah said ironically. "We'll just be careful."
She turned deadly serious again.
"You know that I was joking, right. Even if you were for some reason interested in really getting a boyfriend, it will never be my son. You do realise that, do you?"
"I understand that you are against the possibility." Cameron confirmed. "But it will be John's decision."
The blood in Sarah's veins turned to ice. Had the tin miss just confirmed her most secret suspicions, with shocking frankness? Once again any thought of sleep fled her mind.
"Okay, no more mysterious hints. Tell me the truth, nothing more, nothing less. Are you or are you not trying to seduce my son."
She had often suspected it but at closer examination chalked up things like the machine prancing about the house half naked, to her lack of etiquette. After dropping a hint or two about how she was unnecessarily making things hard, no double entendre intended, for a teenage boy, Cameron had actually been more careful, leaving her room fully dressed and even locking the bathroom door when taking a shower.
"No." Cameron said evenly.
Unfortunately the problem remains, there is no way of knowing if she is telling the truth.
"But I want him to know that I am available, should he wish for it." the cybernetic girl continued without missing a beat.
Had Sarah been able to watch herself from an outsider's perspective, she would have wondered how her bulging eyes managed to avoid falling out of their sockets.
"Available? what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
The assault rifle looked damn seductive once again. Cameron looked up, frowning like she was struggling to think, even biting on her lower lip before answering.
"Girlfriend is a role. I think I could fulfill this role, protect John and satisfy his needs at the same time."
"There are words for women who satisfy men's "needs", often involves role playing of a kind, but girlfriend not one of the usual descriptions." Sarah snorted.
Cameron wasn't fazed, despite already having convincingly faked being insulted. This time she just nodded, like she and Sarah were only having a sober discussion.
"You are talking about prostitutes. An incorrect analogy. My services would be limited to John and no money would be involved."
Sarah found it disgusting how casually the machine girl talked about whoring herself out, after almost, almost, coming to see her as person of comparable status to a human being, even if different in nature and origin, the wall around her heart was rebuilt anew. There was no concern for what Sarah would define as dignity that Cameron would recognise. Hypocrite. It was her friend, little Sarah, again. Talk about throwing rocks in a glass house. When John was little and you were constantly on the run, little more than a foolish child yourself, a former waitress desperate to gain the skills needed to protect your son, at any cost, the skills you had to learn yourself to be able to teach them one day, how often did you have nothing but your body to offer as payment. Sarah closed her eyes and told little Sarah to go fuck herself. It was a sacrifice that I had to make, a sacrifice that shames me till today, but in the end it was worth it. Come, come, little Sarah refused to give up, at least at a handful occasions you certainly enjoyed yourself, but that's not the point. Cameron wouldn't feel shame and she would not enjoy sexual relations either, no more than a sophisticated sex toy. Whatever that might be called, even of prostitution was the wrong word, she would not be a girlfriend. But more important was that while Sarah was certainly not used to dwelling on her son's sex life and just as certainly did not want to intrude on it if and when it existed, she knew his personality well enough to be sure of a few things.
"I don't think you know my son well at all. Good, I can't speak for Future John but this John, my John, his isn't the type to just blow of steam with a random girl/sex bot. He is the type who expects and wants more than that. So forget it, he doesn't need you. Someday he will find a real woman to love and appreciate, to make him happy and to share his life. One that can really understand and return his feelings."
And that is all I'll be saying about this, she added in thought. Despite not liking the turn the conversation had taken at all, at least she felt like she was winning again. She had not wanted this "fight" but she would end it with a decisive victory of humanity over cold and narrow machine logic. The cellar door opened and John trotted into the corridor, grumbling under his breath. Like following an unspoken agreement, Sarah and Cameron stopped talking at once.
John made for the stair as Cameron called: "Watch for the board!"
"Hah, Hah, very funny." came the ill-tempered answer.
They waited until they heard the sound of the door to his room being shut, a bit louder than necessary. Sarah stood up, taking the assault rifle from the table.
"Well, don't make any more noise for the rest of the night, Tin Miss."
The suddenly so talkative cyborg had apparently used up her smartass ammunition and Sarah was content, for the moment. What Cameron had said and done would probably return to haunt her again but for now she was ready hit the sack with a modicum of peace. She switched off the corridor lights.
"The bulb in the kitchen can wait until tomorrow."
"I'll return to patrolling." Cameron said in a monotone voice, devoid of the "almost passion" she had shown earlier.
Sarah nodded, knowing that Cameron could easily see her, and returned to her own room, carefully avoiding the loose board on the way. Cameron sat in the dark kitchen for several more minutes before rising and starting her next patrol. The Connor home was silent again.
Author's note: The laundry scene that inspired me to write this was of course in season two, after the car bomb drama, when John was treating Cam far colder than during the first season. I made it appear on pupose as if it happened during season one. I hope that I will manage to write between one and three (not sure myself yet) short sequels to this, where the reason for the time bungle will be revealed.