"And you're sure it's safe?" Tali asked nervously.
"I am not sure of anything. I theorize that an open-air exposure is unlikely to kill you, based on all available relevant data," EDI answered patiently.
Shepard found herself grinning wryly, as she and most of the ground crew waited at the site of Legion's memorial. It was not the site of his death, but a scenic spot near the first quarian colony. The geth didn't have funerary rites, nor memorial rites, and it didn't seem appropriate to use quarian rites for a geth. So she'd cobbled together a vague idea, with symbolism that made some degree of sense, and decided to run with that. She looked at the stone in her hand, about the size of an apple.
She thought Legion would have liked to be remembered at dawn, because he'd secured a new dawn for his people. And close enough to the quarians, with whom he had tried so hard to bridge the gap, but without being too close.
The sky was clear, lightening near the horizon, and already many geth units, apparently having utilized hardware to appear 'in person' had gathered. Even a number of quarians, headed by Zaal'Koris, had come to see the memorial. The two factions still stood in segregated groups, but it said something hopeful to Shepard that any of the quarians, barring Tali and Koris, decided to come. Near the landing zone was a large pile of stones, which she and the geth had gathered. All the attendees were recommended to take a stone before joining the throng.
As the sun peeked above the horizon, Shepard took a deep breath. "Ladies and gentlemen, synthetics and organics, we have gathered here today to remember one of our fallen. Legion—a geth, who was more than a machine when he died."
She saw the flicker indicating several of the geth were recording the event. Given their positions, it was probably a three-dimensional recording, which the entire Reformed Consensus could view and partake of later.
"Legion was a good friend. I didn't know anything about him or his people the day I met him. But he didn't start shooting at me, so I didn't start shooting at him. I'd never talked to a geth before, so I didn't know what to think when he popped out of nowhere on a derelict Reaper and called me 'Shepard-Commander.'"
Titters of amusement, surprise that this was how they'd met.
"I brought him back to my ship, and we talked. And we talked another day. And some more on another. And slowly, I began to see that what I knew of the geth wasn't representative. Legion was…considerate…of organics. More confused by the contention between organic and synthetics than anything else. More than that, he put a high value on lives, insisting on at least one occasion, that he take the most dangerous job, because he was, in his own words, more replaceable."
Tali sniffed. Garrus nudged her reassuringly with his elbow.
"For me, Legion was a light in an unfamiliar, dark place. He gave me information I needed, when I would otherwise have based decisions on hearsay and 'what everybody knows.' To protect someone from acting in ignorance is a kind thing." Shepard looked at the stone. "I was once told that to machines, time is a theoretical concept. It doesn't affect them the way it affects organics, and it's true. I've seen synthetics ignore temporal considerations that would dominate the minds of organics, and they are to be praised for it. That's why I would request those who are willing to place a stone—which lasts longer than a plant or flower—and say something to his memory." Shepard walked over to the place she had picked out. "I wrote him an epitaph: my name was Legion. And I loved my people," she said, her nose stinging. She set the stone down, and returned to stand with the ground team.
Tali hurried forward, stone in hand. She placed it, reached up, and undid the catches on her helmet. "I'll be sick as a frog later," she said to the two stones. "But this is for you, Legion. A deep breath of the air on a homeworld you never got to enjoy." She took a deep breath, then put her face shield back on, and withdrew, letting it out slowly, savoring the scent and feel of it in her nose and lungs.
Garrus went next. Then Koris. Slowly, as if Tali's symbolic gesture had sparked something, even those quarians who had nothing to say, but lay down a stone nevertheless, undid their visors and took a deep breath of their homeworld's air, in place of a man who had no lungs to breathe it with, no sensors to interpret smell, no emotional attachment to the memories of this place.
The geth assembled watched the trail of organics, until finally one unit joined the queue, picking up a stone, which it regarded thoughtfully. It stood there, looking from the stone to the small memorial pile, then gently set the stone on top of the pile. "I…honor Legion. I…would like to call myself Mark. After the book from which Legion took its name."
Shepard had never heard a geth sound so awkward. She doubted a geth had ever felt so awkward. But nevertheless, Mark ambled back to stand with the other geth who—and it seemed a very organic thing—seemed to take courage or inspiration from this first among them to participate. Some of them chose names, honoring Legion by giving him their first introduction. Others said nothing.
As the line of geth dwindled, Horatio moved from the memorial pile to Shepard. "Legion's remains were recovered and have been repurposed. But this…the Reformed Consensus felt this should be yours." He held out a complex-looking piece of tech.
Shepard accepted it gingerly in both hands. "What is it?"
"It is analogous to Legion's heart. Because we know its heart would have gone with you."
