This was written for the Hunger Games Competition, Round 3 (Word: divert, Emotion: ecstatic, Dialogue: "She's not going to be happy about that.", Weapon: fire, Genre: Sci-Fi) and for Jenna. I hope you like it.
Please review to let me know what you've thought.
Word count: 3046
Metal and Blood
"You could kill me you know," he tells her one day, and Rowena tilts her head, looking as confused as she can.
"Why would I?" She sounds almost offended by that very idea.
"I suppose you wouldn't know," he answers, smiling self-depreciatingly.
He thinks of the endless months he spent rewriting her code, erasing her and remaking her until she was perfect - he remembers the first versions' simple lines of zeros and ones, asking him 'whereamI? whatamI?' in an endless loop, his only sign of success being that the machine used an 'I' to describe itself - and he wonders... Was it really worth it?
(Wait. Pause there – this story doesn't start there.
Rewind.)
.x.
He made her strong, he made her clever, he made her beautiful, but every little thing Rowena's done since he turned her generator on she did on her own. That should scare him – he based her on many of his own thoughts patterns, and God knows he doesn't trust himself on a good day – but for some reason it doesn't.
It doesn't reassure him either, but it helps to know that whatever she is, whoever she decides to be, it's as much her responsibility as it is his own.
(It doesn't start here either. Go back further.)
.x.
Salazar remembers growing up the way everyone does these days. It's a bit like a distant memory, more barely more tangible than the remnants of your dreams when you wake up in the morning.
Their youth doesn't matter. He supposes it must have, once, but nowadays no one cared for what you did or who you were before you turned seventeen. What matters is what you do after that.
Salazar... Well, Salazar works in the Mechanics Quadrant. When no one's looking, he writes algorithms and draws diagrams, steals metal scraps and appropriates unused tools - and when you put those together, it forms a body for the mind he's creating.
It's the kind of thing that's forbidden, the knowledge either lost long ago or banned for reasons no longer taught, and he could be arrested for this, but every time Salazar sits in front of a screen, he sees numbers dancing just out of his reach, ideas begging to be put into actions.
The result will be a thing of beauty, he can already see it. He just hopes it won't be the last thing he does.
(That's too far back. Go forward.)
.x.
(There. This could be it. Let it play.)
It doesn't start as a grand gesture.
He never meant for his work to be taken as a sign of androids rights support, and he certainly never wanted to be considered responsible for a new kind of life.
He wanted to prove himself though. He wanted to show the world that there didn't have to be rules, that free thinking shouldn't be scorned, that creation was a gift and not a curse.
But most of all, he wanted to be seen. He, Salazar Slytherin, could be the greatest man of all times, a man worthy of the legends of old, those who had saved the world and made this one to keep life a reality.
He just had never expected his creation to be so... Human.
(Stop. Skip forward. Be more specific.)
.x.
Rowena is… She's different. He can see it from the moment she comes online for the first time, her striking blue eyes taking in her surroundings for the first time, focusing on his face as much as on everything else in the dark room he assembled her. It is eerily reminiscent of a newborn taking his first breath – minus the screaming – but he imagines that this is what a parent feels. He wouldn't know though.
He names her Rowena after one of the heroes of old, and for weeks he's truly ecstatic, so much that his coworkers, used to his more muted personality, start making enquiries.
Rowena's everything he ever worked toward, and then some. If he has to endure a few questions from fools too curious for their own goods, then he will, and as long as he still gets to come back home to her he can do anything.
.x.
For all that she's probably the most advanced piece of technology in the world, Rowena's rubbish when it comes to interacting with everyday pieces of equipment. Salazar lost count of how many times he has had to repair the coffee machine, and she probably would have found a way to destroy his sleeping pod a dozen times if he hadn't forbidden her to enter his bedroom.
Given that she doesn't eat to eat or drink, he still wonders what she needs the coffee machine for, but it's still amusing to watch her fail at using it when she can run probabilities that would take him hours in the blink of an eye.
Unfortunately, Salazar had been so lost in the bliss of the completion of one of his life's goal that he forgot just how much surveillance his whole Quadrant was under. After all, should anything happen there, the whole structure of their cities could be compromised.
Barely two months after Rowena was for lack of a better term, born, people started to make enquiries into Salazar's work and behavior.
He could feel the eyes of cameras on him every time he stepped through his front door, following him everywhere, never letting go, the inactive puce everyone had implanted at the back of their necks – they only were activated in case of emergency, and had prevented many an accident - a low ache as he went through his daily routine as quickly as possible.
No matter how careful, though, he knew it was only a matter of time before they came for them, before they came for her.
So one day, they just fled.
(This is the beginning. The real one.)
.x.
He talks to Godric the day he decides to leave. Godric is both his friend and his boss. They've worked together for years now, but where Salazar chose to stay in Engineering, Godric rose through the ranks until he became their Supervisor. The role seemed tailored to fit him – being given men to be in charge of appealed both to the redhead's sense of honor and protection's instinct.
Hadn't he been more focused on Rowena, Salazar would probably have ended up with an identical job, but his ambitions had been better spent elsewhere.
The past is the past though, and Salazar regrets nothing, except perhaps having to run.
"I'm leaving," he tells Godric, because his friend is one of the few people he knows he can trust, and it's better if he's warned. "There will be questions, probably inquiries made into my work – you do not have to lie – God knows you're terrible at it – but try to buy me some time, please?"
Salazar hates to beg, and he knows Godric knows it too. If anything, his last word should warn his friend of the seriousness of the situation.
The next few seconds are filled with tense silence, but whatever the other man saw on his face convinced him. Godric nodded.
"You should go see Helga before you leave. She might have something to help, and she'll appreciate the warning too."
Almost unwillingly, Salazar gulped. "She's not going to be happy about that."
Godric smirked, and clapped Salazar in the back. "No, she won't be."
.x.
Helga is Godric ex-wife. They refuse to tell anyone how exactly they had met, or why they had divorced, but they are now very close friends. It hadn't taken him long after he made Godric's acquaintance to meet the shorter - and much kinder than her ex-husband - woman.
Helga works in the Educational Quadrant. She had at some point tried to convince Godric and Salazar himself to quit their jobs and follow her into teaching younger generations – the Educational District being one of those few Districts you could just join at any point in your life, contrary to almost every other careers, for which you studied until you turned seventeen and were pretty much a fixed point in your life – but they had both refused.
To tell the truth, the idea had been appealing, and in another life Salazar might have said yes. In this one though, he hadn't been ready, and neither had been Godric.
Being part of the Educational Quadrant, though, gives Helga many rights that other people don't have, such as a pass to cross into whatever part of the city she wants. Where Salazar is restricted to his own Quadrant unless he requests a pass – and those are rarely granted – Helga is free to travel, and Salazar suspects that Godric directed him to the woman for that very reason.
Still, he hesitates in front of her door. Helga is a dear friend, and he wonders if he can really ask her to become a part of what is already a felony.
He enters anyway, because he made it this far, and as he said to Godric, time is of essence. He's aware he's being watched more and more, and while there's nothing wrong in him visiting an old friend, it is unusual for him to hesitate so in front of her door, and unusual means suspicious in this kind of things.
Helga's place is just like his – everyone's is based on the same models these days, and it takes more money than most can afford to make changes – and it hasn't changed since the last time he came.
"Salazar! What a nice surprise! It's been a long time since you last visited me - I was beginning to wonder if you were ignoring me…" Helga greets him enthusiastically, showing him to the living room and the same sofa he's been sitting on every time he visits.
"So, what have you been up to these days?" She asks him after they're both sitting.
Salazar tells her everything he can. He makes no mention of Rowena, but Helga knows him well enough by now to read between lines to see what he doesn't say, and he mentioned his interest in robotics and artificial intelligence for her to understand what exactly he has done.
And like he said to Godric, she's not happy, and as she proceeds to explain to him why he's an incurable idiot, he finds that he pities anyone who might underestimate her temper. To endure it knowing how terrifying it is was bad enough, but to be subjected to it unaware… At least he came in prepared to what'd happen.
It doesn't make it easier though, not really. Helga is just one of those people you hate to disappoint, and when you add to that the kind of parental aura she has around her – he and Godric once joked that it came from spending so much time around kids – her lectures are some of the worst you could face.
She calms down relatively quickly though, once she gets everything she wants to say out of her system.
He waits for a few moments after that, sipping at his second cup of tea. Nothing she said was actually false – making Rowena was indeed dangerous, and a sign of the same sharp mind Godric always swore would get him in trouble one day, but he had come to realize that she could never be a mistake. She's so much more than that.
Something must have shown on his face, because Helga suddenly smiles, seemingly sad and yet hopeful at the same time.
"I see," she simply says, and he doesn't dare to ask what she saw less she starts to rant at him again. "What do you need?"
His heart beating as fast as a butterfly's wings, he explains his plans to his friend, trusting her to keep it secret. He hates to have to ask for help, but this is about more than just him.
When the last words leave his mouth, Helga is staring at him silently, clearly thinking deeply about what he has said.
"You'll need a way out of the city," she finally says.
"So now you see why I came to you. Will you help me?"
Helga doesn't even hesitate. "Of course I will Salazar. Whatever you need, I'll bring it to you as soon as I can. And maybe I'll even get to meet that special girl of yours," she adds, a smirk on her lips.
"Thank you," he breathes out, more grateful than he's ever thought he could be.
He might even be looking a bit forward to Helga meeting Rowena.
.x.
(Go back – explain.)
One night, when Salazar comes home, he finds Rowena lying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. "They hide things from you. How can you live like this, knowing only a small fraction of what you could?"
His blood runs cold. "How do you know that?"
She raises herself on her elbows, tapping her temple with her index finger. "I looked. Did you know that your people used to use people like me to do the work they have you do now?"
He hadn't, no - not exactly. He had suspected something had happened though, something that had led to the suppression of nearly all mentions of the existence of AIs.
"I knew you were not the first of your kind," he admitted. "And that's why you can't do this – look for information this way. What if someone noticed? You're not supposed to be here, what if they found you? Do you have any idea of what'd happen to you? Because I don't, and it's one thing I don't want to find out."
He feels a gnawing kind of pain in his stomach, like someone or something had twisted his insides. It didn't take him long to identify it as worry.
"Promise me you won't do it again," he asks, his voice so calm he almost has to wonder if he's imagining the turmoil inside of him.
Rowena must sense something – she is perceptive after all, he made her that way – because she only nods, even though he can see that she doesn't really understand his reasons.
They both stay silent as Salazar prepares himself diner, and they don't talk again until he's waiting for everything to cook.
"Why did you create me then, if everything I am is forbidden?"
A heavy feeling he can't quite name seizes his heart in a tight grip, and he struggles to find a right answer.
He could tell her a lot of things – that he had been bored, had wanted to challenge himself, that it being forbidden had only made appealed to him more – but he knew that she didn't want to know why he had created someone like her, but rather why he had created her.
He thinks back on all the late nights he spent researching how to make her move or talk, studying the human speech and thought patterns, and he almost has to laugh. He remembers countless of sleepless nights spent on shaping her personality – he shouldn't be surprised at her ability to still surprise him.
"I did it because I wanted to," he tells her in the end, because that's the only answer that matters for him now, the only reason worth saying.
It must be the right answer, because she smiles, and as his breath catches for a second, he almost forgets that she's not human.
.x.
Now that Godric knows, the man is only too happy to help divert attention away from Salazar's less legal activities. Helga has yet to come through, but Salazar knows she will. Still, he finds himself looking over his shoulder more and more often, and he hopes she will be quick.
Rowena grows more and more eager to leave the confine of his apartment, and he has to admit that he too longs for the freedom to be outside unafraid of who or what might be watching.
When Helga show up at his door one Sunday afternoon, he greets her a touch more enthusiastically than he normally would, and from her knowing look he was unable to hide exactly how relieved he felt.
She and Rowena get on like house on fire, and he almost regrets having to leave – Rowena could use a friend who wasn't him.
That night, Helga leaves behind papers that will get them through any borders they might want to cross – those, combined with the old maps he found a few years ago will allow them to leave the city easily and retreat into the countryside, where no one would care where they came from or what they did – and Salazar has enough money saved up for them live comfortably. Here, in the city it wouldn't be nearly enough to last more than a few weeks, but outside… It will last much longer.
The next week, a fire starts in Engineering and spreads quickly – beside equipment, Salazar is the only casualty.
And if one the other side of the Quadrant, a man is fleeing with a woman few people have ever met, well, no one has to know…
.x.
Rowena creates for herself a past she never clearly tells Salazar – she drops mentions of siblings here and there in the few conversations they have with other people, even if he has no idea where she got that particular piece of background from, and everyone clearly thinks they're married. They do live together, after all.
Every day, Salazar sees her bloom into someone new – she's so much more than he ever intended her to be, so much more than a machine. She grows more human with each passing day, and it's wonderful to witness.
One night, they sit outside and watch the moon, her body sitting so close to his that had she been human he would have been able to feel her warmth. Instead he can only hear the small whir of mechanics when she shifts to rest her head on his shoulder.
He can't even remember a time when he didn't think this was better – a time when hiding a smile in her scentless hair, his hand on her waist wasn't the best thing he had ever had.
(stop there – let it fade out)