The John Connor Chronicles: Aftershocks: Chapter 4: Analyses

….

Of course, I don't own the Terminator franchise in any part. Just thought you should know. Oh, you do? Okay, then. Onward.

…..

Chapter 4: Analyses

Next day: John was taking advantage of the relative calm they were experiencing (and wondering if it was the calm before the storm) to again study his maps, and Google information. And again, he plagued Cameron relentlessly for information about SkyNET and its possible locations in the future she'd come from.

She noted all this and wondered why it seemed so important to him.

She found him in the garage once again. Privately, she suspected he went in there to get away from the others, but couldn't fathom a logical reason why. "John. I think you should involve yourself in some extracurricular activities. Sports, perhaps."

"I really don't have time for anything like that these days, Cameron." Then he looked up, a bit startled once her words had fully penetrated. "And what's with that, anyway? You've always discouraged me participating in such things. Said it was too dangerous."

"That is true, but I had swimming in mind. A non-contact sport that nonetheless exercises the body and the mind." She looked pointedly at his ribcage. "You've been putting on weight. That's not good for you. You should be on the swim team."

He glanced down self-consciously, and his hand went to his stomach. "I have not-*"

"I've calculated your body-mass index. You are definitely putting on weight. How can you possibly fulfill your destiny if you are overweight?"

"Cameron…"

"And, while I know you can swim, your swimming skills could be improved upon."

He scowled. "I can swim just fine."

"For someone untutored, yes. Suppose you had to jump into the water to save me? You know I can't swim."

He stared at her. "You know, sometimes I can't tell when you're joking or not. Cameron. You're waterproof."

"Water-resistant," she corrected him. "And while it's true I wouldn't drown, many of my more sensitive internal components would suffer from prolonged exposure to water. You wouldn't want that, now, would you?" Still he hesitated. "You did say you loved me. Has that changed?"

Something inside him melted. "Of course not. Okay, Cameron. I'll think about it."

"Good. You have until tomorrow afternoon after school. I signed you up for the classes. They meet tomorrow at three."

"WHAT! Cameron, that's a bit much! Why did you go and… I don't even have a swimsu—*" He trailed off as she fished something out of a plastic bag she was carrying.

"Here." She handed him the suit, then reached back into the bag. "And also, goggles. You must protect your vision."

He sighed as he took the suit and goggles. "At least it's not a speedo."

….

Lunch at the local McDonald's: John, Sarah, and Derek took seats across from the door, in a defensible position, while Cameron went to get their orders. When she brought them back, she plopped a salad down in front of John. "Hey, Cameron. I thought I ordered a Big Mac."

"You did, but this is better for you. You must watch your caloric intake, John Connor, and this is better for your digestion anyway."

"No, now, Cameron, this is going too far. I like my Big Macs."

She pointed towards his midsection. "Evidently they like you a little too much. They do not want to leave. And then there's the matter of your cholesterol to consider. Here. You may have ranch dressing. But only one cup."

Derek was dying with silent laughter; Sarah seemed to be finding something very humorous about her quarter-pounder. "May as well give it up, kid," he said, wiping a tear from his face. "You know what they say about…her sort: 'They never stop!'"

And she made him watch his salt intake.

…

After supper, Sarah and Derek left to run some errands, while John settled in to watch The Walking Dead. He'd just settled himself in, soft drink (diet) and bowl of popcorn handy (no butter, salt substitute), when Cameron came into the room carrying a flat box. She was wearing her usual tight-fitting jeans and top, her midriff exposed (and did it seem just a tad more exposed than usual? But his attention was fixed on his show) and sat the box down at a small table across the room. Then she came over and sat next to him. "John?"

"Hm?" Still riveted to his show.

"Would you play a game of chess with me?"

"Huh? What?"

"Would you play a game of chess with me? I have the board set up, right over there."

"Cameron, my TV show's about to come on. I can't play any games right now. Maybe later."

"I would really like it if you would play with me now."

"Later, Cameron. After the show."

She settled back, crossing her arms, her expression blank. "Very well. I…understand."

"Good."

"I know I am not a real girl. I should not expect to be treated like one. I am only a machine." He turned to her in time to see a single tear course down her cheek. "I understand that you would rather watch your show."

Oh, no. "Now, Cameron. Look. I know what you're trying to do—the tears routine. It's not gonna work. I mean, this is only what? An hour? Hour and a half? There'll be plenty of time before bedtime to…" Another tear joined the first, and her face took on a downcast look. He could have sworn he saw her lower lip tremble, just a bit. "Ohhhhh, very well. I guess I can…sorta keep up with things from over there. Just…don't do the tears thing, okay?"

"Thank you, John," she said, smiling. It was one of the very few times he'd ever seen her actually smile.

Ten minutes later: "Well, that didn't take long." He'd lost, and quickly, too. Not that he'd really expected to win against the computer-brained Terminator, but he hadn't expected to lose quite so dramatically. He made as if to go resume his seat.

"One more game?"

"Cameron, I-*"

"Pleeeeze?" And she actually pouted.

What was going on here?—he wondered, even as he sighed and settled back down in his chair.

Three losses later. "I don't seem to be very good at this."

"No. You could benefit from joining the chess club. Not only would it teach you to strategize better, it would be a helpful and healthy social outlet."

He face-palmed. "Cameron. Don't tell me you-*"

She handed him a folded up piece of paper. "They meet this Saturday in the Student Union Building. When I signed you up, I joined as well, so I'll see you there."

Oi vey.

...

While they were at school one day: "I don't mean to say 'I told you so,' but…"

"But you told me so. Derek, that doesn't help a great deal." The two were seated in the dining room. Derek was eating from a bowl of nachos; Sarah was sitting pensively on the other side of the table. Looking nervous.

He glanced up at her. "No point in being jealous now. It's done."

"I am not jealous! Besides. It's not…completely done." I hope.

"Sure you are. You're jealous in the way any mother is whenever a girl comes into her son's life, an' he gets serious about her. Well, John's serious about the met—* About Cameron. He's said so. How she feels—well, she doesn't, but that's not the issue. He's head over heels. I told you that. You should have seen it coming long ago."

She fidgeted, too concerned to take umbrage at his tone. "I always wanted Cameron to be John's companion, it's true…but not quite this way."

He softened a bit. "Look, Sarah. You know that…that she's…not real. So, regardless, I mean…whatever he, y'know, does with her," he fumbled for the words, even as she turned her attention on him, that very topic having been looping around in her mind as well, "I mean, it's all one way. She can't, like, feel anything. In any sense of the word. She's not real. She could never replace a real girl in his life."

"She's doing a pretty good job of it so far. She reminds me of…hell, she reminds me of me, when John was smaller. She's acting the roles of both girlfriend and mother. I…guess I am having a bit of a hard time with that. Sometimes." She turned to him again. "What would you have done, in my place?"

"Kept her in a box in the garage, switched off, until we needed her. Or, better still, never switched her on at all. We could've gotten along without her. I know she's useful, but we don't need her." He'd returned to his nachos. Now he glanced back up at her. "Still not too late for that route, you know."

She sighed. "Actually, Derek, I think it is.

….

Later that evening, Sarah was putting her clothes up when she heard a knock on the door. She didn't recognize the knock as being either John or Derek's. That left only…. "Yes, Cameron?"

Cameron opened the door. "Sarah? Could we talk?"

Sarah turned away. "Don't you have the wrong room?" The words came out a little sharp.

Cameron looked puzzled, but the sarcasm in Sarah's voice of course went completely past her. "No. This is your room, is it not?"

"I meant…oh, never mind." She went over and sat on the side of her bed. The sooner the cyborg got out of her room, the sooner she could get to sleep. "What's on your mind?"

Cameron entered more fully into the room, turned, and made sure the door was firmly shut. She turned back to Sarah, who was watching, curious. Cameron actually seemed to be trying to be…secretive. Why? And from whom? She moved a bit further into the room, and Sarah realized she was moving away from the door, so that her words wouldn't be so audible to any potential listeners outside. "I am concerned about John."

Sarah stretched back, settling back against the bed on her arms. "That…seems somewhat self-evident. You…do seem to be going a bit overboard, however. I mean, there's no need to remind him every time to put on his seat belt, and most…girls," she swallowed audibly, "…friends…wouldn't reach over the table and wipe the corners of his mouth for him during meals. That's going a bit far."

"I know. Part of that is deliberate, on my part. I am trying to provoke an adverse response from him."

Sarah was surprised. "You are? Why?"

"Because it would be normal for him to become annoyed at such behavior. Yet he has not, or has not seemed to. And I cannot help but wonder why."

Now Sarah was becoming concerned. Normally, Cameron wasn't too perceptive when it came to the tides of human emotions… "So you've been trying to get him to snap at you? Why?"

Cameron hesitated. "I am not sure. But, were he to do so, it would indicate…normality. As it is, I feel like something is wrong.

"Something he is not telling me. Something he is keeping from us all."

"Like what?"

"I don't know." Cameron fell silent, and Sarah could have sworn the cyborg looked…almost downcast.

"Cameron. I have a question I'd like an answer to. Why are you always…talking to John in his bed? Is that more of this, this trial or whatever you want to call it?"

Cameron looked away, towards John's room. Sarah caught the faintest hint of longing in the perfect face before her. "No. It's just…he seems more open in that venue. More inclined to talk, and to talk of more intimate matters."

More intimate… She drew a deep breath. May as well get it over with. "Cameron. Have you and John had sex?" Yet, she thought to herself, even as she told that part of herself to shutthefuckup.

A puzzled look. "Sex? No. I simply…need to communicate with him, on a level that we cannot seem to achieve in any other way." She paused. "I find I have the need to do so."

"Is this part of protecting and preserving his life?"

"Partly." Again a longing look towards John's room. "I also am…concerned about…him."

"What do you mean?"

"The essential him, the part that makes him the John Connor we know. That I know.

"I fear for that."

Now Sarah was worried.

After school: Cameron had made it a point to be at every swim class meeting. Privately, John wondered if that wasn't her way of making sure he'd attend.

Still, he had to admit, maybe she'd been right. He had put on a few pounds. The laps in the pool were serving to tighten up his belly and tone up his muscles. Nothing wrong there. Plus it was fun.

"What if you had to jump into the water to save me? You know I can't swim." He had to smile every time he remembered her saying that. That had been so cute of her.

I'm going to miss you so much, Cameron.

Up in the bleachers: Cameron was sitting on the next-to the topmost seat, watching attentively. One of the other girls from class, Marianne, was sitting beside her, though Cameron wasn't sure who she was there with. "That your friend?" And she nodded in John's direction.

"The one in the black and red suit, yes," Cameron replied absently. In truth, she was completely aware of her surroundings; this was the accepted mode of expression that she had gathered was the norm among human females in such situations. "I picked it out for him." Now why did that come out? She must have felt it to be necessary, but why?

"You've got good taste." Marianne giggled. "Good fashion sense, too."

Now Cameron slowly turned her head to look at Marianne fully, her optic sensors zooming in on and analyzing the human female more acutely than before. She felt a peculiar sensation, a stray line of code perhaps, flash across her awareness. "Yes. Thank you."

A wistful sigh. "He sure is fine."

As was normal for her, in such situations, several pre-catalogued responses, arranged in order of her interpretation of the scenario at hand, instantly flashed up on Cameron's head's-up display:

Yes, and "fine" rhymes with "mine"

Fuck off, bitch

You're welcome to keep your eyes to yourself

Sux to be you; I saw him first

Wait. No, those were all far too aggressive in nature for this situation. Why had they been given such priority?

She must, she decided, be sensing some sort of threat from this girl. Perhaps she was a gray. Or even another Terminator. She couldn't tell. In any case, she had to protect John.

In less than a second, she calculated another response set that should accomplish the desired goal without seeming too belligerent. So instead of responding to the girl's comments directly, she turned back to watching John, and replied, "Yes. We're saving up for the ring."

Marianne looked up, stunned out of her daydream. "Ring?"

Cameron shrugged, in perfect mimicry of a human girl. "Diamonds are expensive. We haven't decided on a type or setting, yet."

"Ring?"

"We estimate that by the time we both graduate, we should have enough. And we've our eyes upon an apartment on the outskirts of town."

"Ring?"

John came splashing out of the water. Cameron was waiting for him by the side of the pool with a towel. To his surprise, she reached up, put her arms around him, and drew him into a full-fledged kiss; not the quick peck of the other night, but a much warmer, almost sensual one. "Play along," she whispered. "Here, dear." She draped the towel over him. "As soon as you get cleaned up and dressed, I'll drive you back. Oh, and dad called. He wanted to talk to you, as soon as we get back."

"'Dear'? 'Dad'"? What th' hell? But he couldn't ask without blowing whatever she was doing. "Uh, sure thing, uh, Cameron, uh, sweetheart," Did I just actually call her "sweetheart"? In public?

Sure I did. Felt really good, too. "Sure. I'll uh just go get cleaned up. Uh, I wonder what 'dad' wanted with me, anyway?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I don't know. He said he'd talk to you. It may be about the job." She watched him go off to the showers, a small smile on her lips. As was de rigueur in such cases, at least, as far as she had been able to determine, she allowed her gaze to linger on his retreating butt. Her analytical subroutines determined that that portion of his anatomy was in superb condition; the swimming lessons had indeed been very beneficial. Watching him thus pleased her, in an odd sort of way. And she made certain Marianne observed her doing so.

Marianne switched her gaze from John's receding back to Cameron's somewhat self-satisfied expression, a crestfallen look on her face. "Ring?"

…

"That's him," said the man in gray, to his companion. The two were in a small room with only one window. A table and a few chairs were the only furnishings; there were no computers, no terminals, no other bits of furniture. "That's the one we need." He was pointing at a screen-capture of John Connor, taken from the school's hallway security cam. Cameron was right beside him, as she usually was these days, walking with him down the hallway to their next class. In addition to her school uniform, she wore her usual solemn look.

"You're sure?"

"My informant hasn't been wrong yet."

"And that's the T model with him?"

"Yeah. Never leaves his side. I'm surprised it doesn't follow him into the restroom."

"How are we gonna get him away from it, then?"

"My informant and I have a plan…"

To be continued…