6

The Great Meaning of Creation:

One

I was alone again.

That Dean male was very… abrasive. The scientists had been cold, but never angry towards me. Doubtless he and Sam were discussing my future fate. Although, this was a very well timed plan. Did they not know already where my part to play would happen? Looking down at my hands, I lifted my arms to examine them. I was unharmed. My resign was extremely strong. Any cuts I had were re-sealed already. My clothes were beaten but still in-tact - mostly, anyway.

I looked at my reflection in the glass again. My blue eyes were soft. Freed from the laboratories by Sam and Ms. Lisa Braeden's people. To what aim? What was I saved from? Being a soldier, a weapon of war, surely. But if I had been programmed, I wouldn't have felt any different. Is that true? Would I have been the same? I looked at my hands. Maybe, maybe not. I was unsure.

The door opened again. Lifting my eyes, I see Sam smiling and walking back in, with Dean right behind him. "Kas, this is my big brother. Dean," Sam introduced. "Dean planned and led the mission to rescue you from Angel Laboratories. This, all of this, was possible because of him."

"It was mostly Sam's idea. But I'm also the leader of this underground rebellion," Dean added, his flicker of arrogance blunted by his obvious power and ability. I admired him already. "Against robots like you." Blinking, I gave him the same look I'd just given Sam. I tilted my head, frowning. That was illogical. I was not a threat. He was leading an entire rebellion against artificial-intelligence creations commissioned for sale to the public?

"What he means is, we're against selling computers and robotics with free will and intelligence. We think its slavery. You have a name, Kas, and thoughts of your own - you're self-aware," Sam offered. "They were going to use you. Sell you. Like you were an electric toothbrush. We don't want that."

Like a toothbrush? I stared at Sam. "I am not as commonplace as a toothbrush may be, but was I not created to be sold?"

"Yeah, but you're a person," Sam explained gently. "You're not a product."

That shocked me into silence. I am… a person?

"We're against artificial intelligence," Dean interjected smugly, "because we think it's just plain moronic to give an electric toothbrush a brain." Sam sighed in frustration and rolled his eyes, but I simply shook my head.

"I do not understand," I replied shakily. "You say I am a person. A product with a brain. I am… I am an Android, a robot. Machinery. How did I become… self-aware? Why does this make me a person? Please explain. I do not understand." I repeated with desperation. I glanced back and forth between them, searching for more answers, and Sam nodded as if he understood. He sat down across from me. I looked into his familiar face with massive confusion on my own.

"Kas. We built you – the scientists and engineers of Angel Industries, and me. You are an Android. But you are not just an Android." His calm tone relaxed my bristling circuits. I glanced from him to Dean, who was watching me with a calculated look. Something in my chest cavity clicked and whirled when his eyes flickered over me. Uneasy, my gaze went back to Sam. "The company wants to replace soldiers - bring them home from war, and send a machine in their place. An army of machines to fight our wars and fix our buildings and do all the things we're losing humans over. They wanted to make a machine into a person to replace real people." He held out his large hands. "You can fix robots and replace parts for a long time. You can't fix people like that. We can't stand that much damage.

"Well, Dean can, but you see where it's gotten him." Behind him, Dean grumbled something and turned, pacing the floor grudgingly. His limp bothered me. Sam shot me a smile that helped lighten my heavy heart. "All bite and a bigger bark. Anyway, they purposefully made you think like a human – only without blood or breakable bones. But you're aware of yourself. You're not a machine. They've gone too far, made you too free-willed. It's wrong to sell humans. And we think it's wrong to make a fake human and sell him in their place."

That thought opened doors in my database that I was overwhelmed by. I was unable to shut those doors, which caused me to become very distressed. It was similar to breaking a bee's nest; having them swarm you ruthlessly inside the confines of your own mind. "I require time in order to reach a suitable conclusion." The large trains of thought were running together clumsily. I bowed my head and touched my temple with my soft fingertips, my face twisting up. "This is very difficult for me. I cannot process it all."

"Trust me, we understand more than most," Sam responded kindly, and when I looked back up at him his smile had softened. "We've got a room for you. Here, you're one of us. Even if not all of us seem as hospitable… we all agreed to this cause. Your cause." He pushed back the chair and got to his feet. "Come on, I'll take you now. You can spend as much time as you want thinking in there."

"I'll take him," interrupted Dean, and I looked at him and winced internally. I didn't want to have his malice added to my mounting confusion. Thankfully, he didn't see my reaction.

"Dean-" Sam protested.

Dean waved his hand and Sam paused in frustration. "Go get cleaned up, Sammy. We have a meeting in twenty minutes." His word was final. He walked right up to me and clapped a hard hand on my shoulder, winking at his brother. "I'll take care of him, don't worry." This I did not believe.

Unhappy but obedient, Sam shot me a smile before retreating. I watched him go remorsefully until he'd vanished. When Dean looked at me, I looked at my shoes. A hum reverberated in his chest. "This way. And don't touch anything." He added, walking out into the hall. I got out of my chair and tailed him. We took a different turn than Sam did but I dared not try and go after him instead and disobey this man, much as I preferred to stay close to Sam.

I followed Dean obediently. He had an aura of paternal authority to him; I could see it in Sam's eyes, and in the eyes of those we passed, flickering to him in admiration before going about their assigned tasks. He gave an order and didn't worry if it was followed through. He knew it would be. I could have seen that he was the leader, even if I hadn't been told. His commands were everywhere – all over these people, and this place. Like a handprint.

It was a bunker. This entire building was an underground hotel and garage combination – enough to fit the hundred or so rebellion partakers living here. There were halls and halls of rooms, and two large kitchens, and lounge rooms and storage rooms everywhere being filled with supplies and guns. It was all roughed up. As if it had been nice at one point, but a hundred jaded souls overtaking it had given it a few dents. There was graffiti on the walls and the floors were smooth concrete. The ceilings were low, and each door was heavy metal. Everything had a lock on it.

"We're a pretty big section of an even bigger picture," Dean turned down a corridor that was especially narrow, and only had a handful of doors. "We have facilities and people all over the world determined to not let AI's like you go into mass production, 'cause we know the end result. Make something better than humans and they take the top spot on the food chain, if you know what I mean. And we're for damn sure not gonna let that happen."

"Usurping humanity is a large feat. Prevention of it has been handled very thoroughly by you and your men." I offered.

"Damn straight," Dean mumbled. " 'People.' Not 'men.' Only for your personal safety. Our girls would beat you into a pulp if they heard you say that." Pausing before the door at the end of the hall, he pushed it open and stepped aside. His honey colored eyes lingered on me as I leaned over and peered inside. It was a narrow room with a cot and a dresser. Empty shelves lined the walls. There was a closet and a black rug on the floor and even a desk with an old wooden chair. "This is mine?" I asked in surprise. I expected a closet, or a room with a chair. This was an entire bedroom.

"It's not much, but we all have the same sort of nothing. We share what little we have." Dean replied evenly, and I noticed his anger had dulled.

I stepped inside my new room and sat on the cot carefully. It took my weight without even a squeak. The blankets were so soft to my touch. I got the insatiable urge to rub them all over and push my cheeks into them. Mine. Belongings. Beside my clothes, I had owned nothing. I looked up at the male. "Thank you, Dean." I said softly.

His eyes seemed to flicker between hazel and green for the briefest moment with an emotion I did not recognize, but it had to be a trick of the light. They were back to unreadable soon after this. An adverse reaction to me vocalizing his title? He was particularly skittish around me for whatever reason; I could see him glancing at me in mirrors we passed on the walls, and he had tried not to look at me in the interrogation room. Did I offend him? Scare him, maybe? I couldn't place my finger on it.

"Don't mention it." He replied flatly. I studied his bow legs and the jut of his strong jaw. What a neatly made human. The others were all at least a little out of place – hair or clothes askew, attitudes leaving a bitter smell in Kas's nose, but this one… He was struggling with something, no doubt, but his concealing abilities were profound. He was stoic. Except for just now there had been little to no abnormalities in his hormonal patterns. There was even a dust of freckles along his nose. "Sam and I have bunkers two halls down - to your right, if you walk to the end of this one. If you need anybody, try to contact one of us. Nothing happens without him or me knowing first. Got it?" I nodded quietly to placate him. "Good." He mumbled. "We'll give you the tour tomorrow and introduce you to the pack. Until then, try not to get involved with these folks. They're, ah… a bit touchy." He winked at me, an odd motion, and stood back. "Rest up, bolt bucket."

Then he was gone. I listened to Dean's uneven footsteps fade, tilting my head. His agitation seemed to be carrying him off at a quicker pace, but not too quickly, as that may alarm the other humans in the facility. Considerate as well as self-controlled even after enduring large amounts of stress. What a fascinating human.

Human. Was I a fake human? Is that my purpose? Did I have a purpose? All of a sudden, the thoughts of being a person rushed back into my mind, and I was again flooded with many principles and possibilities. Drawing my feet up, I lay on my side on my new cot, and listened to the feet pattering as the others headed to the meeting. I pressed my cheek into the blanket and pushed my fingers into its material eagerly. It was better than I'd imagined. I shut my eyes let the waves of problems flood over me; I shut out the world.

In the darkness of my mind, I began to conquer chaos.


The Great Meaning of Creation:

The Other

"It's dangerous, Sam," Dean snapped. "It was built to be a soldier. Just because it's a loaded gun without somebody to pull the trigger, doesn't mean it's safe."

Sam groaned. "Dean, you're missing the point – we saved him because he was a person, not a thing. You could go off any minute, and you don't see us hiding guns from you."

That made Dean brood for a minute. He was a leader, he had to do some rough stuff. But Sam was right. "Fine," he muttered at last. "He gets a room on the empty hall. At least there he'll have a bed somewhere far away from the others."

"You said 'he,' " Sam smirked, and the look he received made him laugh. "Don't worry. We'll let everyone know the deal in the morning. Just… let's give him space. He doesn't even know he's alive yet." He pointed out softly. "Didn't you hear him? He thanked me, Dean. What machine does that?"

Telling the Andoid – Kas, apparently – that he was a living thing seemed to seriously scare the hell out of him. Dean watched his reaction as he and Sam filled him in. He wasn't a threat. He looked like an emotionally compromised teenage girl, all wide eyes and fluster. Some weapon. This thing was a mush-ball. Dean dismissed Sam, deciding to let him get back to his home instead of taking care of this lab experiment. Both of them were reluctant to be separated. But Sam needed rest before the meeting. When he had gone, Dean led Kas along, filling him in. Their plot, their scheme, their justice-seeking… Everything. Dean had never seen a robot who agreed with opinion. It was weird as hell.

Kas seemed pretty happy with the room. Too happy. Like he'd never owned anything. Which… Dean figured might be true. Kas stepped inside all cautious-like, and sat down on the bed like it might bite him. But when those big eyes turned on Dean, and he got all soft, it was nearly impossible for the valiant leader to stop the memory flashes in the back of his head. Those eyes. God, those eyes.

"Don't mention it," Dean managed. After another terse reply he left. His head was in a whirl. He should have told Sam to alter the design of that thing. 'That guy is too… real. Too perfect.' Even if it wasn't really him. After showing the Android his new place, Dean went right back to his room. It was easier to not think about him in the darkness of his own space. He peeled off his dirty clothes, and his hurt shin groaned around his jeans. It was badly bruised. He'd deal with it later. His feet sighed in content against the cold floor as he pulled on a clean t-shirt and jeans, their soft hug against his weary skin a mounting relief. Man, was he tired. He pictured Kas in those tattered clothes and glanced furtively at his closet. That guy couldn't walk around in those rags. Not in his base. Pulling open the closet, Dean picked through his things, choosing a few favorites to give to him. Folding a pair of jeans and two shirts, he plucked out white socks and boots he didn't wear anymore and set them aside. Digging through his desk drawer – aka the hellhole – he emerged triumphant, a comb in hand. He washed it and dried it off in the bathroom sink and slid it into an envelope so it didn't get lost. It was tossed onto the 'Kas' pile. He'd give it to him tomorrow.

Dean pulled on shoes and left, heading to the meeting late. He glanced down Kas's hall as he passed and noticed the door was still open. Weird. Didn't he know how to shut it? Maybe not. Looking back and forth down the hall, he saw no one was watching, or walking by. He pursed his lips. Well he didn't want to leave it. Sighing, he ducked down the hall and crept up to the open door as quietly as possible. If he was awake… God… He held his breath as his eyes slid inside. Kas was… asleep? Fully clothed on his bed, curled up like a toddler, and out like a light. Poor guy looked like a little kid. Dean's eyes softened. Reaching out, he slid the door gently shut, clicking it into place before retreating down the hall. He had to stop overreacting. Kas was just a robot. Right?