~ Cozy ~
A light snowfall beyond the window. Lights glistening on the fake Christmas tree. The quiet hum of the tv on low volume. The repetitive snore of the Lieutenant passed out on the couch. A smile from Connor who hasn't decided whether to wake him up or not. Soft footfalls from Sumo wandering the living room.
A quaint domestic scene. Some humans might call it picturesque.
So why does it hurt?
.
STRESS LEVELS
92%
.
Emotions are still new and he can't pin down which ones are accosting him. There is a tightness in his chest despite no malfunction warnings, just his usual error message of central processor damage. It hurts and he doesn't understand why. He can't use this to his advantage. There is no upside to this unfamiliar emotion, but he doesn't want help. Machines don't need help. He's supposed to be highly advanced, even in his damaged state.
So he bids Connor goodnight and climbs into his bunk to stare at the ceiling.
White. Calming white.
White like the snow outside.
White like his machine state.
White like Cyberlife.
.
STRESS LEVELS v
87%
.
Whatever it is that hurts he needs to drown it out. Flood his systems and flush the sensation out. Music? It's helped before. And so unheard to anyone else the thumping beats shake his frame as he turns the volume up, up, up…
.
STRESS LEVELS v
79%
.
Not enough. What else can he do? What else has silenced all emotions in the past? What else has been a comfort, even if he'll deny the very concept?
A memory.
His system has many archived memories from November, most of them from Connor's uploads. Where the line between him and his predecessor blurs. The best of these are of the Zen Garden but aren't quite what he's looking for. Connor wasn't a good machine. Those memories of Amanda…
Disappointment.
Frustration.
Anger.
A frozen wasteland.
.
No that's not what he needs.
There is one memory of his handler that is not Connor's. One that is his alone. One that he will cling to in his most desperate moments.
.
NOW PLAYING FILE: 'Archived_Memory_11/11/2038'
.
He skips ahead to the exact point he wants to view.
.
She twirls the rose several times before taking in the scent. When she finally places it with the others she half-turns back, prompting him to move to be by her side for the remainder of the conversation. "Very clever." The way she looks at him, the shine in her eyes and upturned mouth, it reads as pride. His system almost feels a bit electrified at that.
.
On the day of his activation he was perfect. And she was proud of him.
.
STRESS LEVELS v
53%
.
Comfort is a strange concept. A machine has no need for it. A deviant, much like a human, seeks it out. A need to feel safe, secure, happy. What those concepts mean to him is still unknown, but he finds himself coming back to this memory time and time again.