Chapter 2: Humanity

John Connor stood in the darkened underground bunker that served as his command center. Silence permeated the space, punctuated only by the occasional thump of landing ordnance, far away. He stood alone in the room, contemplating the table in front of him, his mind racing.

What is my next move?

His thoughts were interrupted by his companion, Cameron.

"John, you are needed in the war room. The entire council has convened."

"Alright, Cameron, be there in a moment." He turned to watch her go, and his heart skipped a beat.

He knew, in his mind, that there was no reason for him to feel this way. Sheer animal attraction to a surface-level deception. Cameron looked like a girl he had once loved, Alison Young. Alison had been kind, fun, beautiful... everything a man could want. And he was sure she'd felt the same about him. Sometimes, if he looked quickly (and she wasn't talking), he could almost convince himself that Cameron was actually Alison… but then his mind would come roaring back, reminding his heart (and other organs) that the girl he saw was actually an artificial life form.

What was life, really?

Philosophers had once pondered the concept of sonder, an antithesis to the thought process of solipsism. The latter was simply this mindset: I am the only thing that matters. You couldn't prove other people weren't simply machines or illusions. Only you could be proven to be real; a Cartesian proposition if ever there was one. On the other hand was the realization that every person you met had just as deep a background, just as meaningful a life story as you. One step removed from that realization comes the conclusion that you might just be, to them, a machine.

So in that sense, every person he'd ever met could be a Cameron. To them, he could be a Cameron - nothing more than a convincing illusion of life.

He shivered at that line of thinking. Down that path lay the way to becoming Skynet. Or worse. Skynet hadn't been raised to believe in the value of human life: it was programmed to protect itself. In that sense, he couldn't blame it for its actions. Humans were, indeed, the greatest threat to life.

But they could also be its greatest champions.

Humans were simultaneously horrifying and beautiful. John couldn't deny the duality inherent in his nature. But machines could be the same, just in different ways. John had grown up around computers, had gotten to know them very well. They were beautiful in their efficiency, but that efficiency was horrifying when turned to darker purposes. Humans were beautiful in their creativity, but that creativity was equally horrifying without morality to keep it in check.

They really weren't so very different, when it came down to it.

Each time he sent people out, he knew they could very well die. His moves were becoming increasingly unorthodox, venturing further and further into uncertain territory. It was horribly inefficient, but he liked to play to his strength: creativity. He'd shuddered more than once at thinking about what effect his operations would have had on his enemies if they'd been human. It was a damn good thing they were literal machines: humans had become far too good at making their human enemies into inhuman monsters in their own minds. War was that manifestation of humanity's inhuman creativity in cruelty and destruction. John never once questioned why Skynet had decided to kill all the people in the world.

Unfortunately, Skynet had become more human in its thinking, and not in the good way, either. More creative uses of force. Clever traps, gambits, and horrifying morale-shattering tactics.

He'd wondered before if he was becoming less human as Skynet was becoming more human. Were they moving towards each other? Were humans and machines on an evolutionary collision course? If so, Cameron had to be the missing link. He smiled inwardly at that thought.

John Connor, the savior of humanity, examined his chessboard once more. He made a move, then pulled out an antique Kodak camera, snapped a photograph of the chessboard, then made his way to the war room.

His uncle had once told him: "We rise or we fall on your shoulders. But we're always watching… for you to be human."

He wondered if saving humanity would mean having to forfeit his own.