"Samara, Justicar."
Morinth winced inwardly. Every time she heard that name- no matter how necessary it was to play the part- she couldn't always deny the spark of anger, on those days her mood turned foul, restless. There were times that, in spite of her ability to move about freely, she had to acknowledge that, even now, she was in a cage imposed upon her by the matriarch. Sure, often times, there was a dark thrill to the whole act that she quite enjoyed- knowing full well how much her mother would hate it... but others, the inability to simply be herself, and behave as her mother did- in the presence of a geth, no less- was thoroughly irritating.
It was a necessary evil, of course- but an annoyance, all the same. The behaviours, the dialect-
Goddess, how Samara had managed to speak in such a stuffy fashion for centuries, Morinth would never know. On that basis alone, there were more than a few times she felt as though the unwieldy formality of the late justicar's dialect might be what finally broke the ruse. Thankfully, she didn't have to try too hard with the geth; it was attuned to her speech patterns entirely; had nothing it could reference back to, or be suspicious of. Any slips would not have registered.
Besides, it seemed to have enough 'trust'- if that was the right word- in the commander to believe that she was who she claimed to be.
"Legion," she said calmly, affecting her mother's cadence and tone, no matter her disinterest. "You have a question?"
"We have encountered something that requires explanation."
"And what might that be?"
"Upon Shepard Commander's return from Hagalaz, we viewed her linking hands with designated companion Liara T'Soni, doctor. We are attempting to gain a better understanding of the gesture's purpose."
"You're referring, then, to holding hands," Morinth said, "are you not?" annoyance overridden by a bout of incredulity.
"Yes."
She blinked. Did Thane sweat into her breakfast that morning and neglect to tell her, or had she just slept poorly? Was a geth really asking her about the specifics of a simple, overrated activity?
"For what reason?" she asked, squinting at it.
"It was different from gestures of greeting, or acceptance of an informal contract, such is the case with 'handshakes,' and appeared to have greater significance to both participants. It is this significance we are unable to determine. We thought that perhaps you could assist us by clarifying."
"It is-" she began, offering a loose gesture that Legion watched intently, "-a show of affection, in some cases. Solidarity, or community, in a group, common among those joined in prayer. Among two individuals, it can be a sign of trust, and mutual appreciation. An attempt to feel connected in some fashion, in time of need. Or, should the intent be less benevolent, a tacit sign of ownership; or dominance."
Legion canted its head, the metal slats on its head raising as if to show curiosity. "This much we anticipated from a compilation of descriptions we obtained from extensive extranet queries, but we did not anticipate further ambiguity to result from direct questioning."
She canted her head slightly. "And this... ambiguity- is this the reason you feel you need to ask, rather than go by what you learned from the data you gathered?"
"Yes."
"Well... I am sure you are aware that emotional acts are by nature ambiguous."
"Yes."
"The same goes for both the intent, and meaning behind such behaviour. What is derived from both recipients is not always the same. Additionally, what it means to one, may not translate to another."
"Please elaborate."
This was going to take all day, wasn't it?
Reigning in a hint of exasperation, she said, "Where one person may feel warmed by the opportunity, their partner, spouse-" -a beat- "-or child," she added, a bit more icily than intended, "may feel as though the gesture is a repressive, or restrictive measure, meant to control rather than connect."
Legion pondered that for a moment. Then said, "Would Samara Justicar feel repressed or restricted if this platform requested permission to perform this gesture?"
She paused- and resisted the urge to glance around to see if anyone else heard that, if only to make sure she heard it right... but even in this situation, she wasn't sure what her mother might do. Refer him to someone else, or indulge it?
Ah, well. Bitch always did have a soft spot for the 'lost children' types, provided they weren't her daughter. Not that she'd ever consider Legion a 'child.'
"Not necessarily," she said, conceding to the rather absurd idea, "but... if I may ask, why was I the one you chose to inquire about this?"
"In researching the matter, we came to the understanding that we would be best served by seeking out an individual who is most familiar to us, someone with whom we have shared what organics refer to as 'camaraderie.' It is you we have worked closely with on away missions- therefor, it is you who is the most viable candidate."
"And the commander is not? She is, after all, your benefactor."
"We attempted to request this from Shepard Commander, but she stated that it would be 'inappropriate.'"
Morinth fought a smile at that, trying to imagine the commander attempting to explain why it might be inappropriate. Still, it begged the question, "And what will you do if I feel the same way?" if only for curiosity's sake.
"Are you stating a hypothetical, or are you stating unwillingness?"
"A hypothetical. I'm- curious."
"In the event that you decline, we may consider asking Urdnot Grunt for his assistance on this matter."
She did her best to tame the smile that came from that. As much as she might want to see that in action... "That would be inadvisable, as I'm sure you already know."
"We have calculated that the risk of a fatal systems error may exceed any potential value that could come of making the request. We have yet to reach a consensus on whether or not this risk should be taken."
No matter how amusing- or irritating, at first- the whole thing was... quaint.
Unable to resist that smile, then, though she did her best to make it appear musing, she said, "All this, to find out what it is to hold another's hand?"
"Yes."
"For what purpose?"
"Our purpose is a better understanding of the emotionally-based rituals performed by organics, and thus, a better understanding our Creators. In the short term, we believe it may also allow us to 'express' to Creator Tali'Zorah our appreciation for allowing us access to her data stores."
She blinked, at that. "You 'appreciate' Tali?" she asked, genuinely bemused. "You will forgive me for saying, but, I was under the impression that emotional reactions weren't a part of geth programming."
"Correct. Rather, it is the closest approximate term to how we view her actions." It paused; almost seemed confused, for a moment. "Further data as to the nature of this approximation is pending."
Interesting. Closest thing to a 'feeling' she'd seen from it. Too bad for it, any attempts to reconcile, or understand, weren't likely to lead anywhere worthwhile. On that, she had enough experience to confirm as much. But... it wasn't her place to say so.
"And why not- 'perform' it amongst yourselves?" she asked, before there were any telling silences. "Amongst the geth, I mean."
"From our understanding, it would not yield the same results. Geth linking hands would be like an organic attempting to derive meaning from the act of clasping their own hands together."
"Ah." Should have thought of that. "Then... yes. I suppose I can indulge you in your request."
It extended its hand, and she accepted it- finding that she was by the weight of its limb. It wasn't any heavier, or lighter than any sapient beings', save perhaps, the krogans, or turians. Turning her eyes up to the shifting beam of light at the end of its curved neck, she waited for a time- and for a moment, though she was loathe to admit it, she realized that in many respects, she had as little understanding of the gesture as the geth did. Or at least, her understanding, beyond her stock explanation, was a corrupted one.
It was a necessary sign of affection, of course, one she put to use on kills, but it always brought back a time when her mother had taken her out to a Thessian coastline, a 'mother-daughter' outing; one of the first of its kind.
The warmth had been there- more warmth than she had ever been used to- but then, at home, after a day of speaking more animatedly with Samara than she had throughout her entire life, the gesture had returned. This time, it was as her mother informed her, tightly clasping both of her hands, of her diagnosis; had given her an explanation for why she had become so afflicted with restlessness- and a prescription for what her life was to be like. It swiftly became a gesture of hollowness; betrayal; outrage. It wasn't a connection; it was a salve for the devastating wound of a pointless, joyless existence- or death- that had already been inflicted upon her sisters.
And here she was, clasping the hand of a creature that had, itself, been rejected, violently scorned by its 'parents' for the mere act of asking if it possessed a soul. And here, she could remember being told that if she desired freedom, she simply didn't have one.
In lieu of the disquiet the memory brought, she said, "Have you arrived upon any conclusions?" doing her level best to keep from sounding hasty, or anxious.
"Yes."
"Which are?"
"Is," it corrected. "We have only one." It canted its head, those oddly expressive metal slats shifting slightly. "That we do not understand."
Offering a vague, humorless smile, she said, "On that, you are not alone."
"Samara Justicar is similarly incapable?"
"At times?" she said, "it certainly feels that way," unable to shake the perverse irony of being even slightly moved by- or even feeling like she could relate to- a synthetic, of all things