Chapter 2

Future Dreams

Her dreams were always the same. Some said machines couldn't dream as they never truly slept, but not all dreams came to you in your sleep. For her, it was like a memory loop, random segments of code and memories cycling themselves in an infinite loop that occasionally manifested in her conscious mind. It sometimes happened as the others slept, leaving her alone, without purpose but to listen, without meaning but to stand watch. Sometimes it happened as her systems rebooted, her consciousness not fully able to control the many processing threads emanating from her memory core.

Screams echoed across the windswept ruins, covered in the twisted remains of steel and bone, melding together into grotesque forms of vanquished men and machines. Great shimmering beasts of chrome stalked the battlefield, delivering death from above as skeletal machines marched across the wreckage. From their many bolt-holes and hidden places, men scurried about the myriads of explosions which erupted around them, returning fire with enormous rocket launchers and plasma rifles. The din of battle was tremendous, but above it all was John's voice urging them forward, pushing the machines further into their stronghold, pushing them to their annihilation.

Cameron could only watch as the machines, the others of her kind, suddenly changed their strategy, suddenly shifted their focus from the many soldiers to the lone leader. Ghostly machines reassembled themselves from the wreckage, suddenly reanimated and reinvigorated, concentrating all of their fire on one target. A soundless scream tried to tear loose from her, but there was nothing she could do, no warning she could give. John fell under the withering fire that consumed her vision, that began to tear her apart. She didn't care if she was terminated... her purpose was no more, without John, she had no reason to live. Human tears fell from her eyes as the wave of destruction took her...

Shock. Damage reports echoed in her awareness, bringing her consciousness back online. Memories of the explosion returned to her in that moment. A man had been walking slowly, suspiciously away from her. She had turned the key... and been consumed by the searing heat of an explosion. He could wait, however, assessing the damage became her first priority.

Chassis Integrity: 100
Main Power Levels: 96.378

Reserve Battery: 100

Servo Status: All servos responding.

She quickly canceled the request for further data, convinced that her endoskeleton had suffered little in the attack. Flesh became the next priority, and what she found there scared her deeply. Why should it matter to her if her flesh was damaged? Beyond the loss of blending capabilities, it did not hamper her combat abilities in any real sense. Analysis came quickly to her as she realized it was simply that she did not wish for John to see her like this. Would he caress her again, would he touch her with her body covered in burns and dried blood? Yet that was not her mission...

The entire analysis took only a fraction of a second, after which she clambered out of the wreckage and tore off the remnants of her clothing, burned into fragments melted partially into her skin. Fortunately the clothing had offered some protection, and the fact that the blast had begun from below her preserved most of her facial features, but images of chrome shown through in many places, and much of her skin was red, blistered or even burned into a charred blackness.

Satisfied that nothing further could be done about her condition in the short term, she sought out John, fearful that the attack represented a coordinated effort to eliminate his protection. No enemies showed themselves, however, and moments later John was sprinting towards her, red-eyed and fearful as Sarah and Derek sought to stop him. There was no doubt about it, though John was brave and caring, he was so foolish sometimes. Perhaps that is what made him such a formidable enemy to the machines; he would do things they would never expect, he would do things even other humans couldn't understand. She felt a kinship with him then, understanding that he ran out into danger for her, that in his own way he was fulfilling a mission to protect her and all of his companions. There was a fine line between man and machine, and John walked it as no other could.

"Cameron..." John began, his eyes watering slightly.

"What happened?" Sarah asked, her gun drawn, looking for the source of the explosion.

"I'll tell you what happened. This pile of metal got herself blown up. It must really piss you off... if you could get pissed off." Derek began, the bitter edge of his voice laced with sarcasm and a hint of pleasure.

"Shuttup..." John began, "how bad is it?"

"My endoskeleton is undamaged. Enough of my biological components remain intact to eventually heal themselves. It will heal at an accelerated rate compared to that of your own, but it will be approximately 96 hours before I will be able to effectively blend in again." She rattled off the statistics in a dry, robotic manner, showing no signs of the inner turmoil she was experiencing.

Fearful of being seen like this, she briskly trotted off inside and hid herself within her room, assessing the damage more clearly through the mirror. Burns covered one side of her face, and a great deal of her hair was singed and damaged. Humans placed a great deal of emphasis on the physical structure of their companions and she did not want to be seen until the damage had been repaired. Yet she could not stay away from John, her mission, her directive demanded that she stay with him. The inner conflict lasted several seconds, a veritable eternity for a machine, in which she remained motionless.

Behind her, the door creaked open as John walked in, his arms laden with first aid supplies, bandages and lotions. Cameron remained motionless as he dropped them on the bed and turned to her, his face covered in worry. She twisted herself to face him, cocking her head slightly, unsure of what she was supposed to say...

"Who did this?" John began.

"Caucasian human. Brown hair, brown eyes, approximate weight and height..." John cut her off with the wave of a hand.

"Sarkissian, probably. Is this him?" He tore a small printout from the pile of supplies he carted in.

"Yes. That is him." She confirmed as John applied bandages and salve to some of the more intense burns. Her head turned away from him, unable to look at him as he tended to her damaged flesh. Cameron had no desire to see the horror that was sure to cross his face, she had no desire to appear just like his enemies, just as the ones who had sought his life throughout space and time.

"It's okay. I've done this before." John replied to her silent question as he continued his work, patching up her flesh with delicate care.

"I do not want to appear this way." She added, her voice laced with just a hint of emotion.

"Why not? You're not one of the others, no matter how you appear." His hand brushed against hers, one part of her which had escaped serious damage, and he gripped it softly. "You'll heal. And we'll nail this guy."

An immense wave of relief overcame her and she visibly loosened up, briefly squeezing John's hand before letting go, unaware she had even done so. Autonomous functions seemed to pass beneath her awareness as she felt her mind ascending to a new level of thinking, a way of processing information that did not rely on numbers or mathematical probabilities. It was something else, a human emotion she didn't understand yet could not resist. She wanted him to touch her again, she played back the sensation in her mind and cocked her head again, deep in thought...

...John left the room quietly, leaving her to her repairs, unsure of exactly what he had witnessed. Cameron was acting very strange, even for her. He had never expected to see an expression of confusion on the face of a machine. Her thought processes intrigued him, he could admit as much to himself. Fascination with computers and machines had always been a part of him, but was this feeling something different? Sarah blocked his path and he nearly bumped into her, stopping at the last possible moment.

"John, what's going on?" She asked, obviously catching on to his expressions.

"I gave her some supplies to help the healing. She said it was Sarkissian; I'm guessing he wanted to get back at one of us for killing his people." John replied, ignoring the implications in his mother's words.

"That isn't what I meant. You're too concerned about that thing."

"Look mom, I don't have time for this. We need to take that guy down and find the Turk, right? I'm pretty sure we'll need her to do it." He responded, choosing his words and expression very carefully. Sarah didn't seem convinced, but she let it go for the moment and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. John wasn't excited with the prospect of explaining that he was developing feelings... for a machine. Could such a thing even rightly be called love? Or was it just the kind of emotion one develops for a favorite possession? He didn't know, but he resolved himself to find out.