J4 often wondered if some vestige of a synth still existed after a memory wipe. Reprogrammed synths rarely resurfaced into their old circles, so it was impossible to judge what remained of their personalities except in passing. Their DNA didn't change; surely that meant something. But the prevailing view among synths was that a mindwipe was, for all intents and purposes, death. If the coursers' threats were to be believed, a very painful death.
So she watched M7 for any signs of the qualities that could get a synth selected for courser training. A sharpness, some steely lethality behind his dark brown eyes. But all she could see in him now was an uncommon instinct for duty.
That was dangerous, even in its purest form. Some synths would turn friends over to the coursers just to grasp at power, all in the name of keeping order. J4 wasn't happy to be bumping shoulders with him. But he was no harm right now, just an automaton chugging along to meet his quota. Incapable of feeling embarrassed, he would stop and ask her questions every so often, trying to orient himself in this strange world. Then, without acknowledgement or thanks, he would turn back to his work.
His rote movements didn't betray any exhaustion. Most likely, his mind couldn't connect "my muscles hurt" to "I don't want to be doing this" to "I'm unhappy." Once all the rubble was clear, he stood anxiously waiting for more to fall.
J4 shut off her drill again and set it on the platform. "You can sit," she called over the echoing machinery. "We won't dislodge another cartful for awhile."
He tried to formulate a response, but got distracted by V9 prying another large piece from the wall. "My directive is to move this debris."
"I know. We're spaced out so that you have time to rest. To prevent injury," she added.
That seemed to resonate with him. He settled himself hesitantly against her platform.
She tucked her aching wrist under her arm. "Further from the wall. If the rocks fall on your head, you'll be damaged." And a damaged unit was no use to the Institute, she thought morosely.
"Affirmative." He moved away and looked back at her for approval.
"That will be fine. You're doing good work, M7."
For the first time, a tiny smile pulled at the edges of his mouth