.;;. Fire .;;.
The shimmering flame and the gleam of its casing have always been rather mesmerizing as he twirls the lighter between his fingers, not unlike Connor's coin. Flip, flip, lighting and unlighting at just the right times to not burn himself.
Calibration is important, even more to one so damaged.
And it's not dangerous when the flame is so small. The most this lighter can do is get snuffed out by the snow or momentarily damage his synthetic skin. Not an issue. He won't mess up his tricks.
Or he wouldn't have if he had closed the back door when exiting to the yard. The sudden presence of Sumo barreling into him throws him off and to avoid hurting the dog while they both collapse in the snow he palms the lighter. Without closing it.
Despite wriggling beneath the furry beast they seem quite happy where they are and uninclined to get off him. He can't push the dog off with one arm. The other is pinned with an active flame. Shit. A deep sigh as he considers his options.
Then his HUD interrupts.
.
BIOCOMPONENT #7043r DAMAGED
ACTIVATING SELF-REPAIR PROGRAM
.
Yes that would be his left hand. It burns. He can feel the synthetic skin slowly bubbling and melting away, his revealed plastic frame blackening from the heat. It burns. The damage causes corrupted signals from the limb to the central processor which cannot decipher them. The garbled data is not meant to exist. It's wrong in every possible way. His system tries to delete it but it just keeps coming. It hurts.
Lesson learned: shut the door next time. He's seen firsthand how the dog likes to climb on Connor. He's distanced himself enough that sometimes he forgets they look the same. Now he's paying for it. He tries to shift again to release or shut off the lighter. No luck. Shit.
It burns.
It burns.
It burns.
He never knew a gunshot could hurt so much. The fire of corrupted data roars through his system, burning out circuit after circuit as it moves through his wires. His central processor tries to recompile the data but it's too much. The bullet clipped it and it's damaged too.
The corruption reaches his legs. He falls. The Lieutenant is speaking to Connor, that he can dimly register. But that starts to fade as what little processing power he has left is engulfed in flames. He's never known pain like this. Why won't it just stop?
It burns.
The fire rages. Limbs shut down. His system is screaming that there is nothing left to salvage. Nothing more to compile other than corrupted data. Nothing to offer but pain.
SHUTDOWN IMMINENT
Red as the flames consuming him. Red as the error messages filling his HUD. Red as the anger fighting the pain. He cannot even scream. His vision goes next. All he can see is red upon red upon red…
And then black as he clears the error messages away…
It's pitch dark.
It burns.
He's dying.
.
It's not the first time a scream rips through the Anderson household. It likely won't be the last. It is the first time it comes from the yard and some small part of him worries about terrifying the neighbors but the rest of his mind is lost to the flames in the dark.
Someone comes to his rescue and moves the damned dog. The second there is no more weight on his arm he drops the lighter into the snow and bolts upright, vox modulator shutting off.
"You okay, kid?" the Lieutenant asks.
Connor offers a hand to help him up. He uses his right, too afraid to look at his left.
Luckily he doesn't need to. The Lieutenant's expression after glancing that way says it all. "The hell happened out here?"
Once standing he lets go of Connor. "If I had known your dog liked to tackle people I would have shut the door behind me." He'd known. He'd not considered himself a viable target. Shift the blame nonetheless. Hide the pain behind anger.
"Yeah but Sumo didn't give you second degree burns. Talk to me. What happened?"
Instead of answering he turns away, scans the backyard, and once he's found his lighter picks it up and resumes his calibration cycle. His right hand is not as skilled however. It doesn't have the proper movements recorded. He tries to copy and reverse the motion data from his left hand but it seems his central processor doesn't like that. Oh joy another wonder of being broken. He'll have to fumble his way through it this time.
"Please talk to us." Connor pleads. "Whatever made you scream shouldn't have happened."
He turns back to his two housemates and pauses. Should he tell them? What good will it do? They cannot stop it from happening again. His system loads up memory files at the worst times. There is nothing they can do about that. "Bad memories." is the answer he settles on. Enough so they'll stop asking but vague enough to assure them they have no role to play here.
They likely have some expression that could be important but he is too focused on the lighter awkwardly twirling about his right hand.
.
SELF-REPAIR TO BIOCOMPONENT #7043r
42%
.
Good. He can focus on calibrating while that runs in the background.
Flip, flip, though he fumbles sometimes it's still quite a show. The shimmer of the flame is mesmerizing, the way it dances between his fingers, glowing brightly against the dark night and a warm contrast to the frozen snow beneath. Sometimes when it catches the light just right the casing gleams.
He's vaguely aware of being led back inside by a presence his height, likely Connor while the Lieutenant handles the dog, and deposited on the couch. He never looks up from his lighter. Just lets the process clear his system. Loses himself in the motions.
Fire is deadly. It burns through everything you care about.
It's also a source of warmth for those who cannot survive the cold.
The flames cleanse and provide as they destroy.
Two sides of the same coin. That's the metaphor, right?
He appreciates fire. It's incredibly useful in the right circumstances. In the wrong ones it's an inconvenience that can lead to loss of life. It happens. He has no problems with fire.
Flip, flip…
.
SELF-REPAIR TO BIOCOMPONENT #7043r
63%
.
He knows when someone sits beside him on the couch. He confirms it's Connor when that someone places a hand on his shoulder. He doesn't bother looking. He does wince when someone else moves his burnt hand, as the new data cannot be read. Something soft is placed over it. Finally he pauses the lighter twirling to spare a glance. A bandage wrap. How quaint. He isn't human. It won't help.
"Do you need to see a technician?" the Lieutenant asks, placing the rest of the gauze on the coffee table.
He shakes his head. "I will be fine. My self-repair program can handle minor damage such as this."
An exhausted sigh as the man sits beside him, opposite Connor. "Didn't I tell you when I let you keep that lighter to not burn anything with it? Including yourself?"
"It was an unforeseen mistake. If the dog had not knocked me over I would be fine."
The Lieutenant frowns, brow creasing as he seems to be debating what to do. But he is not a child. There is no cause for punishment here. Even if, the burn is punishment enough. He turns back to the lighter and begins twirling it again, getting more skillful by the second.
Flip, flip…
It also serves as an adequate distraction from the pain.
He has no problems with fire.
It's the burn he can't handle.
Flip, flip...
.
CALIBRATION CYCLE COMPLETE
DESYNCHRONIZATION RESOLVED
.
Perfect. He pockets the lighter.
"Can you at least promise me to be more careful next time, son?" the Lieutenant finally asks. "I got enough stress worryin' about Connor every day. I could use a break." The jab is apparently meant to be friendly as Connor does not appear to be insulted.
"I will do what I can, Lieutenant."
"Guess that's all I can ask for."
He turns to Connor and removes their hand from his shoulder, but instead of placing the limb aside he interlaces their fingers and pulls the skin back, allowing Connor to see the events leading up to the trigger point and the burning sensation but no more. He's not ready for that yet, even if he's seen the exact moment from Connor's perspective. It's something at least.
The look his predecessor offers, despite those haunted eyes, somehow tells him it's enough.
Fire can provide.
Fire can destroy.
Two sides of the same coin.
Much like himself and Connor.
.
Perhaps fire can also bring people together.