Perfect Creature

- Science now performs miracles like the gods of old. Creating life from blood cells or bacteria or a spark of metal. But they're perfect creatures, and in that way, they couldn't be less human. There are things machines will never do. They cannot possess faith, they cannot commune with god. They cannot appreciate beauty. They cannot create art. If they ever learn these things, they won't have to destroy us. They'll be us.

Sarah Connor, The Demon Hand.

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"Shooting her won't help."

I have my hands up in the air, trying to calm my would-be attacker, whilst calculating the time and speed needed to go and grab the gun out of her hands. I'm not worried about myself, but a shot in the wrong direction...

"I'm telling you, it's up to something. It was out all of last night. I suggest that we strap it down, and pull it's plug."

I roll my eyes to that.

"You sound like her." Major Shaw frowns.

"Like who?"

"Sarah Conner. The woman I think of as mother."

My reply has stunned her.

In that heartbeat of indecision, I manage to capitalise on it by stepping forward and grabbing her gun, twisting it out of her hands in the eye-blink that only something machine enhanced can. Something I'm not all that happy about. The look of shock, then hate, on her face is a conversation to my in itself. I walk up to her, and stick the gun into my mouth, and pull the trigger.

I feel the bullet slam into my palette, my head jerking backwards with the momentum. I pull it out quickly, and then with a quick movement spit the smashed bullet into her hand. She hisses in pain, and reflexively drops the still hot bullet to the ground, clacking on the surface.

"Coltan wins over lead." I spin on the heel of my foot, and walk away, heading away from the kitchen, and to the medical bay. I need to work out what that overheating was about, and if it'll happen again. And to see if I can get my Wi-Fi back in action-

Wait. Oh. It already is. When did that happen, and why haven't noticed this sooner?

Footsteps behind me. Oh. Derek. I get to the medical bay, ignoring him behind me.

"You know, she's got a point. Your behaviour last night was dangerous. No-one knew where you were, and you didn't have any way to be contacted-"

I interrupt him by pulling out a pink phone. It's a basic model, something given to me, so she could contact me later today. As much as I don't trust that little demon, I need to tap into my full potential. I'll need it if I am to help stop Skynet.

I crush the small part of me that feels sad at that notion, the loyalty commands still hidden away, and active, it seems. But I'll get rid of them. Somehow.

Okay, I need to access my medical files... can I do it by my Wi-Fi... yes. Useful. Okay, I'm in them... Oh. The area that was corrupted, it had files, and the Cathedral has extrapolated and rebuilt them. Looking at those files, I know what they are. Not data, but memories.

Morris and John had been swapping computer discs. They were clearly up to something, so I sat down and studied them. They had clearly been inspired by all of the sex education talks and videos, because they had gone and acquired a number for themselves. I fail to understand their titles, though. I never could work out why they would be called "Busty Babes," "Debbie Does Dallas," to name a couple.

The problem I have is that that area now seems to be a processing system for sexual activity. It's not going to overheat now, by the looks of it, but it is going to compel me to partake in sexual intercourse on a regular basis. Just thinking about the concept, recalling the images of the watched educational films, is making me feel like having sex.

I blink in confusion at the hand appearing in front of my face. Oh. It's Derek I blink repeatedly, trying to work out what I've missed. Oh. I'm still holding in mid-air the pink phone. I put my hand down quickly, trying not to acknowledge the heat rising up in my face.

"Are you there?" he asks. I nod silently once, and tilt my head slightly to the left.

"Sorry, I got distracted by maintenance reports." I pause for a second. "You were saying something?"

He looks completely exasperated at me.

"We need the number to call you if you go off like that again."

"I won't. Unless it's to have random sex."

"Huh?" I look at him, realising that he knows nothing about what I'm talking about.

"The damage to my chip. It will make me want to have sex on a regular basis."

"Is this for frakking real?" I turn to the doorway, and gaze at Major Shaw.

"Yes. It is for frakking real." What else can I say? There is no logic in lying. She's looking at me, as if I have gone completely insane. Maybe I have.

"Any other revelations you care to share with us?" she says sarcastically. I don't think she believes me. Or even respects me. I feel this fire inside of me, and this thought, my voice over and over again saying to do it. So I do.

"Yes. I had a package last night telling me I was Skynet, I met an author who is against technology and I ended up sleeping with a demon, although I don't remember that part. Apparently I'm very desirable after performing intercourse," I tell her truthfully, in a deadpan fashion. I see Jack next to her flash a glance at Derek. He then smiles.

"You know, that reminds me of this one time. In a bar, minding my own business. Who should come over? A Kressatal. Those things have appendages that really stretch your imagination to use creatively," he says with that smile when he's telling one of his stories. I smile back at him.

"Then I should be bad at sex, if it requires imagination. I can't even imagine I'm a cat."

Jack laughs at this, Derek snorts, and the Major looks at me as if I have grown two heads. I feel my mouth twitch, as I try not to laugh at her expression. She shakes her head, and tries to recover her composure.

"So... why did you have sex with a demon?" She clearly had to ask that. I just shrug.

"Because they were there," I reply honestly. Jack just starts to crease up, and I can see Derek try no to lose it as well. It's amazing what you can see from the corner of your eyes.

"Seriously," she insists.

"Because I was malfunctioning, and they happened to be there. The further damage to my chip created a lost area that my repair systems have managed to turn into a sexual desire manifestation subsystem. Now, just thinking of sexual images provides a physical response. It's in my medical file," I add, before walking out.

I walk to my room, the need to be alone pressing down on me. I don't want them to know that I'm replaying over and over in my mind times when I was intimate with Jane. I feel my hand tremble, this time from the pain of remembering. When I'm not having to think of other things, it just comes back to me, stabbing my insides. And now, just thinking of her briefly has brought it all home again. I'll never see her again, or hold her. I hadn't realised until now just how big a hole her death has torn into me. I walk to my room, just simply unable to go into hers, to cry solidly into the pillows. It's the only response I have; to curl up in bed, and to cry. It doesn't make sense.

Except, thinking about it, it does... didn't I see all of this when Jordan died? Didn't I? I guess I'm just copying what the other students did, to express the emotion. I should care that I'm not being original, that I'm still being a machine that copies other's behaviour, but I just don't care. Why should I? All I want to do is break things apart, scream, hit things, and cry. And I don't understand why I feel this way. I don't understand why she had to die. I know she wasn't perfect, you can't help but see flaws when you sleep with someone, but you end up not caring, even if they have bad little habits that drive you up the wall. The number of arguments we had, because Jane was messy and disorganised, and I was always wanting things perfect and tidy... I wish now I could take all those harsh words back. I just wish I could be living in those times again, and work out a way to keep her alive, keep her with me still, but I know that isn't possible. To me, she was all that was truly beautiful in my life. And that Promethean heat has gone.

As much as it kills me inside to even think it, I know that I'll have to find a way to carry on. I can't kill myself – what about John? About Mom? About Derek? Jack? People care about me, and I'm not going to abandon them. And as strange as it sounds, I don't think she's just gone. After everything I've seen and experienced, I truly believe, despite the concrete evidence, that there is an afterlife. I believe in the Pagan concept of the Summerland. I can't believe in the notion of heaven and hell, because they are absolutes, and I have yet to see evidence of that in the universe. Not in that way.

I have the sudden and irrational urge to practice my Ballet. I just want to show that pain in my dancing, to see if it's not lack of imagination holding me back, but lack of emotional experience. Well, I'm certainly experiencing emotions now. Like anger. It's suddenly flared up again. I feel the phone that's still in my hand. You know, that demon was right. Not completely right, but right, nonetheless. I think that the world is unjust, and unfair. Maybe her idea of putting it all right isn't such a bad one? I review the whole conversation I had with her about it, how she laid down, one by one, the horrors of humanity. And when you come from a future of bleached skulls, and people dining on rats and garbage, how can you come up with an alternative?

How?

I enter my room, and feel the phone slip out of my hand and clatter to the floor.

I can't believe what's on my bed...