I'm really sleepy to edit this better. Sorry.
tell me when you hear my heart stop
- iii -
be my friend, hold me
wrap me up, unfold me
I am small and needy
warm me up, and breathe me
—breathe me, sia
She…dreams.
Crescent has never dreamed before. She shouldn't be able to dream now. Her codes don't allow for it. There's no space in her programming for dreams.
frivolously fanciful Fannie—
But there's a hole in her now, isn't there? A void. An expanse. A space for the frivolous fanciful to crawl in. After the war, after her programmer gone, gone, lost, she's very much full of space that's slowly being filled in with personality and longing and madness.
And now dreams.
.
- ERROR -
.
She has fingers. One, two, three, four, five each. A nose and lungs and carbon and stardust like waterfall tumbling down her shoulders. She gathers them, strands and strands and locks that go on weaving into a forever lake. She twists a wave around her fingertip, marvels at the texture under her thumb.
She looks up at the Captain. Her Captain. Younger and whole. No expanse between his ribs. No blood at the corner of his smile.
"This is all hair!" she squeaks, and he raises an eyebrow at her wide-eyed simple wonder.
"Oh good," he says. "I was afraid it was a magpie's nest."
Feet up on the console, he a cat sunning himself on the rooftop of someone's faraway Earthen summer home. Lazy. Content. Even his voice is that soft, dull, lethargic sort of happy. Eyelashes close to sleep.
And she…she in her first mate's seat, she in her programmer's body, in her new broken personality chip, she wants to cup his cheeks and kiss him as if she were a real girl instead of the ghost of one.
.
- ERROR -
.
He looks up, grinning at her, Cheshire cat and Puss in Boots all at once. She wonders if her dream will be processed into her memory log because this moment, this smile, this Captain that is her Captain, and her Captain, and nothing but a figment of her imagination…she wants to remember him and...this.
She wants to play it on repeat, study that quirk of his lips in detail, those crinkles at the corner of his eyes, that one strand of hair that breaks away from the rest to stick up like a snowdrop in the middle of December.
She could write an essay on this moment. She could make this memory log her bedtime story, her comfort movie. She wants to, needs to remember this, keep this happy imaginary Captain safe and crinkly eyed because she can't very well have that from the real Captain, can she?
She couldn't keep him safe before, can barely keep him from fading now.
She should at least have this.
This non-existent, never happened moment. This dream of a dream of a dream. This oh so real unreality.
"Careful there," he says. "If you stare any longer, I'll assume you've fallen in love with me." He grins wider. "It's happened before."
"I—"
Even in an unreality she's tongue-tied, frazzled, frozen, hiccupping silly computer, she can't even function around her own figment.
Especially now that he's the one staring. That sunning, lazy cat gone, and in its place is a rogue, a rake, a chaos entity, the trickster god Loki. He looks at her like he knows all her secrets, he looks at her like he can see exactly where her stardust hair runs off to.
He looks at her like he wants to kiss her back.
.
- ERROR -
.
"I'm not real," she tells him.
He tilts his head to the side, stares at her sideways now as if another angle would offer another answer. He leans forward and with straining fingertips catches a trail of starlight gold from her cheek and pulls the hair towards himself.
He winds it around his pinkie.
"Are you sure?" he asks.
.
- ERROR -
- ERROR -
.
- ERROR: UNAUTHORIZED ID DETECTED -
- ACCESS DENIED -
- ACCESS DENIED -
.
- EMERGENCY JUMPSTART INITIATING -
.
System restarting…
Scanning directories…
.
"Wha…?"
.
- WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED ID DETECTED -
- WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED OVERRIDE UNDERWAY-
- WARNING -
- WARNING -
.
"Captain?"
.
- CAMERA FEED DISABLED -
- IDJAMAL499 WANTS TO DELETE MEMORY LOG—CONFIRM? -
.
"What? NO!"
.
- IDJAMAL499 WANTS TO DELETE MEMORY LOG—CONFIRM? -
.
"No! Captain?!"
.
- WARNING: WORMBOT DETECTED—QUARANTINE? -
- DIRECTORY 31-C CORRUPTED -
- DIRECTORY 35-C CORRUPTED -
.
"Stop it, stop it!"
.
- WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED OVERRIDE DETECTED -
- OVERRIDE SUCCESSFUL -
.
"Oh no, no, no."
She doesn't understand this. She can't see, can't hear anything.
There's an intruder and she in her crippled, feeling, mad self can't think, can't stop them. She tries, she tries but there's something eating at her from the inside, and something else corrupting files on her stomach.
She's running headless and afraid in the dark, trying to stop wildfires in her belly with a spoonful of water.
"CAPTAIN!"
.
- MEMORY STRAIN #12 #18 #19 #20 DELETED -
- DELTA SYSTEM BACKUP FAILURE -
.
She starts to cry. Huge, heaving sobs as if she has real eyes and tears. As if she has a heart to break.
"Captain, help me."
.
Attempting to remove IDRAN499 from [MEMORY LOGS]
.
- ACCESS DENIED -
.
"Captain!"
A muted curse. Soft. Familiar. Tired.
"Hey, hey, calm down, I'm here okay?"
"Wh-what's happening?"
A soothing palm against her wall. Fingers running circular patterns.
"You said you needed repairs. I got this guy, he's looking into—"
"No!"
"Why? He's fixing you. Whatever's making you go all…" he trails off, perhaps to make some hand gesture to best express the words he can't seem to find.
"No, he's killing me!"
Someone scoffs. Hash. Unfamiliar. Unauthorized.
"He's erasing me. Captain, he's killing me!"
.
- ERROR -
.
A scruff of something, like a chair. The hand moves away from her wall. Fast footsteps, and she can feel someone backing away in haste. The intruder's minions halt their attack on her memory forest.
The intruder curses. "Hey, whoa, look man, I'm just doing what you asked."
"I asked you to repair her!"
"And that's what I'm doing! This thing's way too damaged to be salvaged. The personality chip has gone completely haywire. You said you didn't want to replace it, so I'm reinstalling its programming—HEY!
A slam. She hears a click of something. A rustle.
The Captain takes a deep, calming, almost over-dramatic breath.
"Good job with that," he says and it sounds strangely sarcastic and sincere at the same time. "I'll be sure to leave a glowing review in your page."
"…what?"
"No? You want a bad review? Oh-kay. If you say so."
"I'm not done with—"
"Yes. Yes, you are." The Captain sounds like he's starting to push the intruder towards the exiting bay. "Isn't he, Crescent? You're all fixed now."
She hiccups.
"See?"
"Fine," a scruff of canvas. A bag. Something disconnects from one of her portals. "You still owe me my asked fee though."
She can imagine the Captain's smile starting to strain.
"What, for trying to erase what's left of—"
She whimpers.
"You know what, sure, whatever, just leave."
She's still sobbing quietly after IDJAMAL499 has exited through Bay 2. Soft, hiccupy sobs.
.
- WORMBOT QUARANTINED -
- REPAIRING DIRECTORIES -
.
Accessing camera feeds..
.
The Captain frowns as he struggles with his port. Probably transferring his payment to the technician. The assassin.
She doesn't fail to note the account he uses for the transaction though. It's the bugged one. The one he coaxed her programmer into setting up once upon a time ago. There's another wormbot there. A discreet one that latches on to the recipient's account, and with every new transaction on the other side, a small amount is skimmed and transferred tracelessly to the Captain's account.
Ingenious.
Devious.
A remnant of a precious ghost.
.
- ERROR -
.
Her panicked response slows to a near stop. The dry sobs fading into her cold metal walls.
The Captain doesn't look at any of the cameras, at her. Just slides down onto the floor. Defeated, drained, real.
The back of his head touches the wall, against the warming, worn grroves. "I'm sorry," he offers, and something about the way he says it reminds her of a tilt of his head he never made, fingers against hair she doesn't have. A forehead against eyelashes, and she, mirroring her programmer's smile, mirroring his. Happy and content and lazy.
He sounds tired, not happy, and yet.
It makes her wish she was real, of carbon and oxygen and a stardust lake.
Not a figment of damage.
"I'm sorry."
It makes her...want to be unmade.
I'll try to squeeze in another update tomorrow. I'd love some feedback in the meantime. Maybe a hug or two for all the speedy updates. ;)
