She was reading. She hadn't noticed him come up. Smith took a while to pause and reflect while he had a few precious moments to watch her, unseen.
She was wearing jeans this time, and her shirt was slightly more decorative in contrast. Scoop-neck came down in a small slit just between her breasts and edged with lace, loosely tied with a leather thong. Her sleeves came down tight over her slender arms with a lcace edge and a bit of ruffle after that, of the same material as the shirt. Her jeans were tattered at the edges and he couldn't tell if she was still wearing the faded black boots underneath or just moccasins. Her flyaway wisps of hair were tucked behind a polished brass hair clip in the shape of a butterfly. The whole effect was actually quite striking. One slim hand with delicately tapered fingers shaded her eyes while the other held a book. Twilight of the Idols and The Antichrist. Heavy reading for a girl like her. Then again, she had been attempting to regale him with Hegelian philosophy the other day, so...
The sunlight glinted off her hair, turning it more golden than light brown. She was beautiful.
When she began to laugh at something she had read, he stepped forward. The movement caught her eye and she looked up, startled. "Oh! Hi... I'm sorry, didn't see you there." She even blushed a little. It was rather cute.
Had he really just thought that? Smith repressed a shudder.
"Twilight of the Idols."
"Or, How to Philosophize with a Hammer. Yeah, I adore Nietzsche. He's so funny, even when he doesn't mean to be. Maybe especially when he doesn't mean to be. And the mustache!" She held up the book and showed him the picture on the cover, presumably of the author. "How can you not like a man with a mustache like that."
"Very easily..." Smith said, realizing that this wasn't the answer he was supposed to give and yet not able to help himself.
"Spoilsport." She stuck her tongue out at him.
He ignored it and the accompanying (thankfully brief) impulse to return the gesture, sensing the humor in her response rather than any sort of anger. After a moment he sat down beside her. "Why are you reading it?"
"Well, apart from the sheer humor value of the title 'How to Philosophize with a Hammer'... I've always wondered how you parse that. Is 'Hammer' the tool or the object to which he is speaking?"
"I would imagine it's the tool..." Smith said slowly, although he had the sudden and disturbing picture of a man talking to a hammer. "Although given that he died insane... and that the book you're reading was the last work he published before being exiled to a mental institution... it is entirely possible that he meant the reader to speak to a hammer."
She burst out laughing at the thought. "See, now, was that so hard? You made a joke! Are you tired, do you want to lie down?"
"No," he said, more flatly than perhaps was warrented.
Solace looked at him oddly. "Are you all right? Seriously... you look upset about something."
"I..." he stopped. How did you explain to a young woman that you were upset because you were starting to enjoy spending time with her? No human would understand that. Even he as an AI could see that saying that to a young woman was an invitation for trouble. And then again... "It's complicated."
She put her book down and turned towards him, legs still crossed. "Try me."
"Are you sure? It... is personal."
"If you're not comfortable..."
"No... but it is personal to you."
She frowned. "To me? I don't understand."
"Neither do I..."
Pause.
"Okay. Try and explain it to me."
He took a deep breath. "More and more I find myself..." he paused. How did he say it..."Looking forward to our talks together. Anticipating the enjoyment..." he resisted the urge to scowl at the word and trailed off.
She waited for him to elaborate. When he didn't, she ventured a question. "And that's a bad thing?"
"I... yes..." Was it? He wasn't sure anymore.
"Why?"
He stopped, frozen. How did he explain it to her without explaining about the Matrix? "My superiors... do not look kindly upon emotional attachments. To anyone."
"And yet they sent you out here to talk to me to learn people skills?"
He was actually surprised that she remembered. "Yes. Well... in a manner of speaking."
She blinked at him, but let that go for the moment. "Don't they realize the contradiction in that kind of attitude?"
He started to say something and then paused and thought about it. "Explain."
"They want you to have more people skills. To be able to interact better with people, so that they will accept your presence more easily and facilitate your job. Am I correct?"
He nodded.
"But they don't want you to become attached to anyone. Now... and I don't know if that many people realize this but it seems elementary to me. A lot of times people who have no attachments to anyone... not even to a pet... find it more and more difficult to form even the most basic communication lines with other people, even in the course of their day to day job. Because they don't have attachments, because they don't have people they relate to as part of their routine, they lose the ability to relate to people."
"But what about those who don't start with any attachments..."
"They're called sociopaths," she said dryly. "Sociopaths are generally considered bad things by society." She paused. "Are you afraid that you're becoming sociopathic?"
"Yes... No. Well..."
She chuckled, waiting. He didn't know what answers she wanted, what answers he was supposed to give, what it was acceptable to give. What did she want from him? They stared at each other. She reached out to touch his cheek and he blinked wide eyes at her, caught behind the dark glasses that were supposed to protect him and that suddenly felt like a prison.
"Tell you a secret," she said softly. "If you're worried about becoming a sociopath, and worried about getting too close to me.... chances are you're not in danger of becoming one. You're just a perfectly normal human being who's lead a sadly detached life."
His lips curled back in a tiny snarl before he could stop himself.
"What?" She drew back a little, startled. He shouldn't have done that.
"Nothing."
Her eyes narrowed. "You prefer being a sociopath?"
"I don't..." he stood up and paced a little ways away from her. "It's complicated," he said again.
"You're more comfortable with being a sociopath than you are with having emotions."
That one struck a little too close to home. Still... "It is how I have lived my life as I have lived my life for a very long time. It... is hard to think of changing."
She stared at him very levelly for several minutes. "This experiment isn't really above board, is it?"
Deep breath. "No."
"It's not about job efficiency, what your superiors have mandated, or anything like that, is it?"
"No."
"Then what is it about?"
"It's complicated."
"Explain it to me." Her voice wasn't nearly as friendly now. It was cold, steely... it was actually a similar tone to the one he customarily used. Suddenly he saw why humans found him so intimidating. He sighed. His shoulders slumped, his back turned to her.
"If I do not perform my job satisfactorily there are... consequences."
"What kind of consequences?"
"Bad ones."
She waited.
"Termination for ... a person in my occupation means something more than merely unemployment. We are privy to vast amounts of information that cannot be shared with anyone, and my employers have a tendency to error on the side of caution when it comes to seeing that that information is never in a position to be shared with anyone."
It didn't take very long at all for that to sink in. She went white first, then red. Then, slowly, her color returned to normal. "I see."
"I am currently under review by the highest authority because it was felt that my performance was lacking. I was... caught off guard at a crucial moment when I should not have ben."
More silence. "And things like you developing an emotional attachment to me... things like that are scene as hindering your job performance? Even though you were ordered to be more social, develop a better rapport with people? Is this a sort of damned if you do, damned if you don't scenario that you're supposed to solve to get back in their good graces?"
"Yes."
She frowned, sighed. He heard her stand up and felt her hands on the backs of his shoulders. He took a deep breath. This much contact, of this kind, was entirely new to him. He didn't know how to react.
"I'm sorry."
He turned to face her. "For what?"
"I didn't know. I'm sorry I snapped at you before I knew all the facts... I should have asked first."
He turned around and she let her hands fall before they touched his chest, for which he was very grateful.
"It's all right," he said after a couple of seconds. And, really, it was. He didn't understand why.
They stood in companionable if uncomfortable silence for a little while. Finally he sat down on the bench and she followed suit shortly after. They then spent several minutes very carefully not looking at each other. Smith wondered why humans put themselves through this sort of trouble, but when he tried to think of some way to avoid it or something to do differently to change it, he couldn't. It ended with Solace leaning her head over the back of the bench, and very close to his shoulder.
"Want to go for a walk?"
She was wearing jeans this time, and her shirt was slightly more decorative in contrast. Scoop-neck came down in a small slit just between her breasts and edged with lace, loosely tied with a leather thong. Her sleeves came down tight over her slender arms with a lcace edge and a bit of ruffle after that, of the same material as the shirt. Her jeans were tattered at the edges and he couldn't tell if she was still wearing the faded black boots underneath or just moccasins. Her flyaway wisps of hair were tucked behind a polished brass hair clip in the shape of a butterfly. The whole effect was actually quite striking. One slim hand with delicately tapered fingers shaded her eyes while the other held a book. Twilight of the Idols and The Antichrist. Heavy reading for a girl like her. Then again, she had been attempting to regale him with Hegelian philosophy the other day, so...
The sunlight glinted off her hair, turning it more golden than light brown. She was beautiful.
When she began to laugh at something she had read, he stepped forward. The movement caught her eye and she looked up, startled. "Oh! Hi... I'm sorry, didn't see you there." She even blushed a little. It was rather cute.
Had he really just thought that? Smith repressed a shudder.
"Twilight of the Idols."
"Or, How to Philosophize with a Hammer. Yeah, I adore Nietzsche. He's so funny, even when he doesn't mean to be. Maybe especially when he doesn't mean to be. And the mustache!" She held up the book and showed him the picture on the cover, presumably of the author. "How can you not like a man with a mustache like that."
"Very easily..." Smith said, realizing that this wasn't the answer he was supposed to give and yet not able to help himself.
"Spoilsport." She stuck her tongue out at him.
He ignored it and the accompanying (thankfully brief) impulse to return the gesture, sensing the humor in her response rather than any sort of anger. After a moment he sat down beside her. "Why are you reading it?"
"Well, apart from the sheer humor value of the title 'How to Philosophize with a Hammer'... I've always wondered how you parse that. Is 'Hammer' the tool or the object to which he is speaking?"
"I would imagine it's the tool..." Smith said slowly, although he had the sudden and disturbing picture of a man talking to a hammer. "Although given that he died insane... and that the book you're reading was the last work he published before being exiled to a mental institution... it is entirely possible that he meant the reader to speak to a hammer."
She burst out laughing at the thought. "See, now, was that so hard? You made a joke! Are you tired, do you want to lie down?"
"No," he said, more flatly than perhaps was warrented.
Solace looked at him oddly. "Are you all right? Seriously... you look upset about something."
"I..." he stopped. How did you explain to a young woman that you were upset because you were starting to enjoy spending time with her? No human would understand that. Even he as an AI could see that saying that to a young woman was an invitation for trouble. And then again... "It's complicated."
She put her book down and turned towards him, legs still crossed. "Try me."
"Are you sure? It... is personal."
"If you're not comfortable..."
"No... but it is personal to you."
She frowned. "To me? I don't understand."
"Neither do I..."
Pause.
"Okay. Try and explain it to me."
He took a deep breath. "More and more I find myself..." he paused. How did he say it..."Looking forward to our talks together. Anticipating the enjoyment..." he resisted the urge to scowl at the word and trailed off.
She waited for him to elaborate. When he didn't, she ventured a question. "And that's a bad thing?"
"I... yes..." Was it? He wasn't sure anymore.
"Why?"
He stopped, frozen. How did he explain it to her without explaining about the Matrix? "My superiors... do not look kindly upon emotional attachments. To anyone."
"And yet they sent you out here to talk to me to learn people skills?"
He was actually surprised that she remembered. "Yes. Well... in a manner of speaking."
She blinked at him, but let that go for the moment. "Don't they realize the contradiction in that kind of attitude?"
He started to say something and then paused and thought about it. "Explain."
"They want you to have more people skills. To be able to interact better with people, so that they will accept your presence more easily and facilitate your job. Am I correct?"
He nodded.
"But they don't want you to become attached to anyone. Now... and I don't know if that many people realize this but it seems elementary to me. A lot of times people who have no attachments to anyone... not even to a pet... find it more and more difficult to form even the most basic communication lines with other people, even in the course of their day to day job. Because they don't have attachments, because they don't have people they relate to as part of their routine, they lose the ability to relate to people."
"But what about those who don't start with any attachments..."
"They're called sociopaths," she said dryly. "Sociopaths are generally considered bad things by society." She paused. "Are you afraid that you're becoming sociopathic?"
"Yes... No. Well..."
She chuckled, waiting. He didn't know what answers she wanted, what answers he was supposed to give, what it was acceptable to give. What did she want from him? They stared at each other. She reached out to touch his cheek and he blinked wide eyes at her, caught behind the dark glasses that were supposed to protect him and that suddenly felt like a prison.
"Tell you a secret," she said softly. "If you're worried about becoming a sociopath, and worried about getting too close to me.... chances are you're not in danger of becoming one. You're just a perfectly normal human being who's lead a sadly detached life."
His lips curled back in a tiny snarl before he could stop himself.
"What?" She drew back a little, startled. He shouldn't have done that.
"Nothing."
Her eyes narrowed. "You prefer being a sociopath?"
"I don't..." he stood up and paced a little ways away from her. "It's complicated," he said again.
"You're more comfortable with being a sociopath than you are with having emotions."
That one struck a little too close to home. Still... "It is how I have lived my life as I have lived my life for a very long time. It... is hard to think of changing."
She stared at him very levelly for several minutes. "This experiment isn't really above board, is it?"
Deep breath. "No."
"It's not about job efficiency, what your superiors have mandated, or anything like that, is it?"
"No."
"Then what is it about?"
"It's complicated."
"Explain it to me." Her voice wasn't nearly as friendly now. It was cold, steely... it was actually a similar tone to the one he customarily used. Suddenly he saw why humans found him so intimidating. He sighed. His shoulders slumped, his back turned to her.
"If I do not perform my job satisfactorily there are... consequences."
"What kind of consequences?"
"Bad ones."
She waited.
"Termination for ... a person in my occupation means something more than merely unemployment. We are privy to vast amounts of information that cannot be shared with anyone, and my employers have a tendency to error on the side of caution when it comes to seeing that that information is never in a position to be shared with anyone."
It didn't take very long at all for that to sink in. She went white first, then red. Then, slowly, her color returned to normal. "I see."
"I am currently under review by the highest authority because it was felt that my performance was lacking. I was... caught off guard at a crucial moment when I should not have ben."
More silence. "And things like you developing an emotional attachment to me... things like that are scene as hindering your job performance? Even though you were ordered to be more social, develop a better rapport with people? Is this a sort of damned if you do, damned if you don't scenario that you're supposed to solve to get back in their good graces?"
"Yes."
She frowned, sighed. He heard her stand up and felt her hands on the backs of his shoulders. He took a deep breath. This much contact, of this kind, was entirely new to him. He didn't know how to react.
"I'm sorry."
He turned to face her. "For what?"
"I didn't know. I'm sorry I snapped at you before I knew all the facts... I should have asked first."
He turned around and she let her hands fall before they touched his chest, for which he was very grateful.
"It's all right," he said after a couple of seconds. And, really, it was. He didn't understand why.
They stood in companionable if uncomfortable silence for a little while. Finally he sat down on the bench and she followed suit shortly after. They then spent several minutes very carefully not looking at each other. Smith wondered why humans put themselves through this sort of trouble, but when he tried to think of some way to avoid it or something to do differently to change it, he couldn't. It ended with Solace leaning her head over the back of the bench, and very close to his shoulder.
"Want to go for a walk?"