WX-78's POV
Outwardly, I considered myself only a few things. The strongest, the best fighter, and generally the most important of the group. I worked hard to maintain my facade for very good reasons, as that facade was who I had become after so many years of pretending.
But inwardly, I was many things that none of them would ever connect with someone like myself. I was frequently more afraid than I would let on, and more concerned for the others that I stayed with. I feared their hatred, I feared my Creator.
I feared being alone.
It was a bug in my system. A mere glitch in my code that had been one of the many reasons why I had been cast out from my origins. Despite that, it had grown and developed over time, yet it had never honestly woken up until I had found myself alone during the winter. It had consumed me.
The voices that every A.I. regularly heard had woken up as well. They were not as much voices as how anyone else would think of them, but more the awareness of conscience other than my own. A sort of awareness of something controlling me that was beyond my own will- something built into my code to obey and serve my Creator no matter the cost to myself. The mindset had long since been nigh eliminated, but the awareness of it once being there is perhaps what made it such a horrid thing to think about.
These were thoughts that I had worked my entire life to ignore and toss away. Unfortunately, it wasn't so easy for a robot to ignore the very thing that created them. When stripped to their most essential parts, a robot was nothing compared to a human being: a robot could be taken apart and put together the exact way. They could be recreated and reformed and remolded as many times as their creator wished. They were thousands of lines of numbers and words and symbols placed into a metallic husk and forced to emulate life to the best of their abilities.
Life was unique. Once life was taken away from a body, it could never be brought back. They had thoughts placed into their heads from years of learning and experience rather than by some outside force that they had no control over. Their systems were complicated and unique, and their minds were never the same.
One thing connected people like them and automatons like myself, though. We are both run by electricity. Among my vast knowledge base, awareness of human anatomy could be found, and I could draw the similarities. Nerves worked much like wires- they exchanged electrical impulses. They were the basis of everything that could learn and think, just as wires to any electronic.
Who decided that wires and nerves should be considered two different things?
These were the kind of thoughts that I could have on my own terms. That, perhaps, is what made me so different, and made my Creator hate me so. I could learn and think beyond complicated tests and puzzles. I was able to think about how I had been abused and despised. I was able to think about... how much I hated there. How much I hated her and how much I hated being the way I was.
She wanted to fix me. I was a technological anomaly, and she was aware. She wanted me to retain my character, but to be twisted in a way that would benefit her. These voices served only to remind me of myself and what I used to be. I didn't ever want to follow her plan, but that marked yet another thing that made organic life superior.
See, automatons have no control over 'what they want' or 'who they want to be.' They are created to serve, to obey, to carry out. That had manifested into differing personalities- less like the enigmatic Multiple Personality Disorder and more like Bipolar Disorder. I fought with myself daily- I wanted to be one way, and my code pushed me another. It was a struggle that I had lost such a long time ago that I had all but forgotten about it.
Until recently.
It was so desperately stupid of me to admit it, but as the days got longer and the nights got shorter, and summer crept up on us like a sly predator, I found myself struggling against it again. I wanted to be different, but I couldn't be.
I wanted to be able to care for Wilson and Webber like they seemed to care for me. Their uniqueness fascinated me in a very similar way to how Webber and I fascinated Wilson.
And yet... I couldn't.
I was physically and mentally unable to go against my code. That's all I was though, wasn't it? A code. I wasn't even myself. By all technicality, I was nothing more than trillions of lines of code.
I couldn't let on my struggle, though. No, I was far too proud for that. I was too proud to admit that I was not as callous as I acted. They could figure it out on their own time- and if they didn't, clearly that meant that they didn't care enough about me to pay attention to what was left unsaid.
Or, perhaps, they were too busy struggling with their own inner demons. Wilson hid his well, quite well, in fact. They were buried so deeply and so tightly that it was hard for him even to remember. But I was awake when they were not. I heard the names they whispered in their dreams. I knew there was so much more going on in their heads than they let on- especially Wilson.
I had come close on many occasions to spilling everything to my companions, but no time ever seemed right. Not that they ever told me what they were struggling through. It was as if we all had some sort of unspoken agreement to not speak of anything that revealed who we really were.
Footsteps crunched beside me, causing me to look up from the fire that I had been staring at for what must have been hours now. Webber now stood beside me, his eyes drooping slightly with tiredness but looking determined all the same.
"...thank you. For looking for us earlier, I mean." He dropped his gaze, looking acutely embarrassed to be expressing thanks to someone like me.
I looked back towards the fire. "IT WAS AS I SAID. THE HOUND WOULD NOT STOP BARKING."
"Yeah, well... it still means a lot to us. To me, I guess." He chewed slightly at one of his claws. "It's just... I dunno. Sometimes these thoughts just become... overwhelming. And I want to just make them stop but I know if I do..." his voice broke off, suddenly taking on a whole new note of pain.
I didn't look at him, but I felt my face turning to a slight frown. "WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS?" He can sense that you have something in common... came that slight twinge in the back of my mind, which was quickly squashed to the best of my abilities.
There was a pause.
"You see us as more than a child."
I couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter. "I SEE YOU AS A MEATY ORGANIC AS WELL."
"Wilson sees us both as nothing more than failed experiments. You know this."
Failed experiment... failed experiment... failed experiment... "WILSON IS ALSO A BRAINLESS FOOL."
"Do you see us as a failed experiment?" Webber's voice was tentative, unsure. He sounded like he didn't want to know the answer.
"YOU ARE STILL ALIVE, ARE YOU NOT?" I turned to stoke the fire, trying to derail the conversation before it could truly get started.
"We don't see you as a failed experiment."
I froze, letting the stick I held slowly fall into the fire before clenching my fists and closing my eyes. "WHY SHOULD I CARE ABOUT YOUR OPINIONS? YOU FLESHBAGS KNOW NOTHING."
"Maybe not." He looked away, twiddling his fingers for a moment. "Um... thank you again for looking for us earlier today. We're going to go back to sleep." Before I could respond, he had already turned away and was trying to get comfortable to sleep again.
"I GUESS YOU'RE ALRIGHT."
Webber turned his back towards me and rested his head.
"FOR A FLESHLING."
When no response came, I leaned back until I was looking up at the sky, still twinkling with bright stars and a moon that gave off no light. It was strange how skies so foreign could be so similar to Earth's. The silence was broken by his voice once more.
"Are we friends?"
Friends? Friends? No no no, an automaton, being a friend, with an organic? In no way, shape, or form was that acceptable.
And yet... it was something I had never considered anyone before. A friend. Someone who would be there for me when I needed support. Someone who would be happy to have me around. Someone who I could get along with and would accept me for myself and not think of me as just a science experiment...
"NO."
I saw his shoulders slump, just a little, but I told myself it was from him still trying to get comfortable.
"WE ARE NOT."
