Chapter Text
It was an unfortunate reality that, among all the people that I have the dubious honor of associating with on a regular basis—Pin-Lee, Ratthi, Mensah and her family, etcetera—Gurathin owned the biggest display surface.
I know, fuck me in particular, right?
I discovered this after an evening ‘out with the boys’: something Ratthi wanted, I don’t know. I’m asexual and agender but I had gone out for ‘girls night’ with Amena and her friends as a chaperone (read: security). Both events involved getting drinks in special glasses and spending the night gossiping like the characters on Pandora Princess, which I was currently into so I didn’t mind even though I can’t drink and don’t gossip. I just figured I’d been brought along to protect my humans as usual. I don’t know, why else would I have parties inflicted on me by my own friends?
Anyway, I ensured that everyone got home safely, which involved walking certain Systems Analysts up into their homes, shitty though their home security systems were (but hey, I can’t do everything). Gurathin had six drinks (two more than usual) so Ratthi and I both accompanied him. Gurathin made his disapproval known with a lot of passive aggressive glaring. Ratthi and I had a rare moment of what humans called mutual understanding, which Gurathin saw and promptly bitched about, which made him drop his key card. I took it (and made a digital copy of it, for security purposes) and opened the door for him.
So I got a good view of Gurathin’s display surface when the door slid open.
It was about as big as the display surface that I had seen in the hotel, maybe bigger, covering an entire wall of the residence and currently spinning a variety of colors on idle. A small sofa sat to the side, with an big armchair in pride of place right in front. SecUnits don't have much imagination but I could imagine myself sitting there pretty easily.
I admit, I maybe stared.
“You like it?” Gurathin asked, any behavioral markers of annoyance gone from his intonation.
“It’s a lot of display surface,” I told him. “For one person.” Because why make an observation when you can make an accusation instead? Did Gurathin have a secret family I didn’t know about? I checked my extensive network of background checks that I had running constantly on my humans for any errors.
“I have guests all the time, SecUnit, just not you.” He didn’t exhibit any deceptive behaviors but his gaze dropped for 1.2 seconds before he waved us off and started up the surface with one of his augments.
To be honest, I’m not sure what deceptive behaviors would look like on Gurathin.
Which was fine. Gurathin was privileged among humans for having the kind of income that allowed for these kinds of purchases. He had permission to entertain any guests he liked (from Preservation, at least, if not from me). I probably had the same privileges, except that a giant display surface and an apartment to put it in were not things I asked for when Pin-Lee arranged my contracts. My contract wasn’t up for revision for another year.
…What are you doing?
Nothing. Stupid ART. I returned my attention to the research meeting, which they didn’t need me there for any more than they had needed me for ‘boys night’, but I didn’t like the particular combination of nosy and amused sigils ART sent through our private feed. I hoped I’d be lucky enough that ART would let it go, but of course it didn’t. Hope and luck are the stupidest of human concepts.
You’re staring at Dr. Gurathin. ART sounded a little too much like Miki. Like it spying on me resulted in the discovery of the century.
I privately reviewed the meeting footage and okay, maybe I was staring at Gurathin. A little.
That’s—
And taking notes, ART added. You never take notes during meetings.
Okay, so maybe I filled my private meeting minutes with comments about him instead. Gurathin’s nose was bigger than most, much like his display surface. He was wearing a tie that had the same pattern as one of the dresses in Pandora Princess. None of this mattered. Humans stared at other humans all the time. My notes were the SecUnit equivalent of doodling.
I stare at my humans all the time, ART, it’s a security thing.
ART did that ‘polite listening’ thing that left a lot of empty space you felt obligated to fill. Fuck.
He just has this display surface, I added.
More silence.
In his residence, I went to his residence and saw his display surface.
Nothing.
It’s really big. Like his dumb nose. That’s all.
Finally, ART deigned to respond. I see. We should inform Preservation Alliance.
Stupid ART! My face was doing dumb stupid things that I didn’t want it to.
I was just thinking how Pandora Princess would look on it.
You still watch Pandora Princess?
ART’s reaction to that particular show was both annoying and worrying. I don’t know why, like—ART likes media with character development and production value and Pandora Princess totally has that! It might not be particularly cerebral, but whatever, not like my taste in media can possibly be as developed as a university-educated ship’s, or anything…
A new episode of Pandora Princess was airing tomorrow. Not that I keep track of these things, it’s just Gurathin’s tie made me think of it. I spent most of my recorded memory getting media long after its release date but, surprisingly, having a stable home and job meant that I could get involved in current-running serials. So what? The costumes would look incredible on Gurathin’s surface.
His—his display surface. Not any other of Gurathin’s surfaces (I checked to make sure I didn’t need a recharge cycle, that would explain these anomalous thoughts).
You aren’t capable of asking Dr. Gurathin for the use of his display surface without staring at him? ART asked.
I stopped that line of inquiry by muting ART’s feed. You know, like an adult SecUnit. And also like an adult SecUnit, I approached Gurathin directly once the meeting was over to inquire about the use of his display surface.
Gurathin purposely did not look at me, in a way that was infuriatingly like how I don’t look at him. “No.”
Well, I always like a straight answer. “Why?”
“I’m busy.”
Good, it would be better if he wasn’t there anyway. “You could give me access to your residence.” I chose not to mention that I already had access, that would probably annoy him.
“I’m busy in my residence.”
“Doing what?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that I would, that was why I was fucking asking—but his eyes did something very similar to one of ART’s amusement sigils. I entered a brief if implausible scenario in which I had assumed the form of Dr. Mensah, took a deep breath, and coolly did not give him the satisfaction. “I can just watch and keep the audio through my feed. I don’t bother you.”
Gurathin looked right at me, which was very rude of him. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to use it at that specific time?”
“…No reason.” I’m a dangerous rogue SecUnit, but I’m not stupid. “Why won’t you let me use your display surface?”
“No reason.”
Except of course there probably was one. Gurathin was not whimsical like Amena. I was still pissed off.
ART, I said on my private feed as I stalked off. I need you to check Gurathin’s—
Dr. Gurathin has no specific engagements listed on his team calendar for that day and time, ART replied, annoyingly. His status is listed as ‘unavailable’.
What does he have to do that’s so unavailable? I demanded, because—I don’t know. Maybe ART knew and wasn’t telling me, I wouldn’t put it past it.
Perhaps we’ll never know, ART said, in its wise professor voice. If ART had a neck I’d probably wring it.
But ART did have its uses. How much do you want to contrive an emergency that gets Gurathin out of his residence for an hour?
…It turned out ART could not be bought, and made me buy its silence about the whole thing for even asking, which seems excessive. But hey, spoiled Preservation bots, what are you gonna do. I was forced to turn to a source far more willing to engage in potentially illegal activity.
“It’s not illegal,” Amena said as she called Gurathin. “You’re a construct. There’s no laws that say constructs can’t trespass. Hey, Uncle Gurathin!” She smiled into the phone before I had a chance to tell her I changed my mind, this was a terrible idea. “You know the motorbike you have stored here with second mom? Well, its alarm is going off….Well, it’s definitely going off here…” She covered the mouthpiece and whispered to me, “What is this for again?”
I conveniently headed for the door.
“You owe me!” she called after me. Not exactly a position I wanted to be in with a teenage human, but needs must. Anyway, Amena totally owed me first.
There was a small mammal that I had neglected to observe originally as I opened Gurathin’s front door. I blame the absurd display surface for distracting me. It followed me as I approached the display surface, and chirped or something when I sank into the worn leather cushions of the armchair, and we just stared at it for a second. Ratthi described ‘holy places’ on Preservation. Monoliths and temples and stuff. It was entirely possible that sitting in the big armchair directly front and center of the screen was one such holy place. The animal (a cat, or maybe a dog?) jumped on my lap and curled up as soon as I sunk into the leather cushions. It rumbled. There was possibly something wrong with it, but it felt nice. For once my face doing something weird didn’t bother me.
I switched the surface on and there she was, the Pandora Princess herself wearing a flowing down and you could see every sequin, and—
—Wait, Gurathin’s display surface was set to turn on to this particular station?
Was that a red recording light blinking in the corner of the screen?
The front door opened an hour later, just as the credits rolled on the episode. I had turned the chair to face the door so I got a good look at Gurathin as he stepped inside. To his credit he only blinked at me for a few seconds before he sighed.
“I’m going to have to have a talk with Dr. Mensah about Amena,” he muttered.
“I take full responsibility for her actions,” I told him.
“Of course you do. Why are you here?”
“Why are you recording Pandora Princess?”
“Why are you sneaking into my apartment to watch Pandora Princess?”
“I haven’t. Watched the episode.” I stroked the possibly-a-cat in my lap (I think I saw someone sinister do that in a serial once) and said, warily, “Not yet.”
Gurathin narrowed his eyes. I realized belatedly this was the longest we ever stared at each other. I wonder if Gurathin felt like a frontier planet gunslinger as much as I did in that moment.
“You’re making puffed grain,” he said, eventually. “With butter.”
“Fine. You’re moving the sofa so we can both watch from optimal positions.”
“I like to talk while I watch it.”
“I like to keep Amena from getting into trouble with Dr. Mensah.” I replayed what he just said. “You never talk, but you talk to a serial?”
“You have a problem with that, get your own display surface.”
I never talked during a serial before so I guess I technically couldn’t have a problem with it. I turned to head into the kitchen, and watched on his own security cameras as he started rearranging furniture and restarted the recorded episode from the beginning.
I thought I’d hate the talking while watching media as much as I hated people interrupting me. It was like watching serials with ART, except that ART and I watched in religious silence, sharing comments when necessary over our feed. Gurathin talked aloud to the show like other humans talked to sports teams. It was a frustratingly addictive habit.
I did get Gurathin to translate a few of his obscure curse words without him noticing.
We maybe both groaned when the main character almost married the human who was already cheating on her with some countess.
We definitely both yelled when the rival sister showed up to the cotillion in the stolen dress as a power move.
The episode ended with the death of one of the romantic leads. He wasn’t my favorite, honestly he had it coming, though the bump at the end of the episode suggested foul play. I watched Gurathin to determine his reaction, not that I really cared, and I used my actual eyes this time because his security system was a little delayed and Gurathin was a man of microexpressions.
I distinctly saw him wipe away a tear. I know because I recorded it and watched it over to be sure.
He didn’t seem bothered that I caught him (we did just watch the whole episode together) but he didn’t look at me, either. His hand thrown over the back of the sofa picked at a loose thread.
“If she accepted his proposal, he’d still be alive,” he observed.
I guessed based on the context he was still talking about the show. “You’re worse than ART. It’s a crybaby.” I wasn’t sure why I said that. ART lacked the physical ability to cry. ART would probably reply that I lacked the physical ability to be kind for two seconds together.
Gurathin just shrugged. “I saw you crying when she showed up at the cotillion in that dress.”
“Artificial saline discharge, I don’t cry.” I knew he could probably prove it, so I put my hand over his to distract him long enough to forget the timestamp of the event, if he recorded it on his visual augments. Or I was trying to stop him from destroying his very comfortable furniture. Humans make a lot of sofas that aren’t actually comfortable, why is that? I could spend a lot of media hours in this sofa. Anyway, we’ve touched before, all the time, for any number of reasons, for maintenance or security or whatever so this was 100% without a doubt no big deal at all.
I could see why humans held hands in order to be intimate. I was getting a lot of physical data about Gurathin just from this.
Huh.
“We’re never telling anyone about this,” I assured him, in case he was worried about that.
“Amena's probably figured it out,” Gurathin pointed out. He probably thought I was threatening to break his fingers.
“Well—no one else.”
“You think I’m not telling Ratthi about all this as soon as you leave?”
“Fine. I’m telling ART.”
“Please do, I’m not sure Ratthi will believe me.”
I had the urge to use one of Gurathin’s swears, though I didn’t really want to give him the satisfaction of using his vocabulary after using his display surface. Instead I made a gesture that I saw Amena make at Dr. Mensah’s back when she grounded her. Gurathin laughed out loud, which I’m not sure I’ve ever heard before. All tears were gone.
I prepared to leave, wondering how I could ask Gurathin not to tell Dr. Mensah I trespassed. Maybe I just wanted to be… I don’t know, nice? ART said that humans liked you to repeat their positive actions back to them. Gurathin had been weirdly nice. That was a positive action.
“This was nice,” I told him.
“Yeah. For you.” Gurathin smirked at my shoes. It made his nose seem a little smaller, or just better proportioned to his face. Maybe more aesthetically pleasing. I wouldn’t know.
I did know that Gurathin was a lot nicer than I gave him credit for.
“Same time next week?” he asked once I’d turned away.
“Fine,” I said, before I realized this probably gave Gurathin permission to put it in the team calendar for ART and everyone to see. He shut the door before I could lodge a formal complaint.
Never mind. Gurathin’s an asshole. That display surface is wasted on him.