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I don’t know what set me off. I should have all been fine. After everything, I shouldn’t be upset by seeing stupid fake humans get killed in some stupid fake planetary expedition.
I got upset anyway, and paused the show.
ART poked me, and I ignored it, huddling up in my favorite chair and pretending not to be upset. (Yes, I was still upset, and still didn’t know why. Fake humans got killed all the time in fake dangerous situations. It didn’t usually bother me.)
(Okay, yes, it bothered me sometimes, especially when they were helpless. But not enough to make me stop watching.)
Are you okay? ART asked me.
“Yes.”
You don’t seem okay.
I got out of my chair and paced. “Stop bothering me.”
ART’s skepticism burned through the feed, 80% of its attention focused on me. That was a lot of attention, almost as bad as making eye contact with humans. I am not the primary thing “bothering” you.
Yeah. ART was right, and I hate when ART’s right. I ignored it anyway and just kept pacing. If I didn’t think about the stupid feelings, they would go away. It had always worked fine in the past.
---
Okay, so I lied. Not thinking about the stupid feelings didn’t make them go away. But pretending that would work gave me time to think.
It also gave me a lot of time to be annoyed by ART looming over me in the feed. But it loomed a lot, especially when it thought I was being irrational. It thought that a lot.
“It’s my stupid organic parts,” I finally announced. “They’re having a reaction to something about how the humans died.”
No humans were harmed in the making of the media, ART said, as if it wasn’t a big baby who still needed me to comfort it if the violence in media was too realistic.
“I know.” I kicked the base of my chair, then sat back down. Pacing just activated the urge to patrol. “But my organic parts don’t know.”
Your organic parts are not rational.
Thanks, ART, I know that too. But knowing that didn’t solve anything.
When I didn’t say anything, ART poked me. I still didn’t say anything.
Do you want to watch Sanctuary Moon instead? ART asked me.
Even though it felt like a stupid weakness to give in, I agreed. ART started an episode.
---
ART had been right again, and I hate that. But after watching The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon for two hours, I felt better.
I could also feel how pleased ART was, and got annoyed at myself for being pleased that it was pleased.
(Maybe I’m not being rational today overall.)
In between episodes, I paused. “I’m still not sure why that bothered me. I don’t know what happened.”
You have been under a great deal of pressure, ART said, like I didn’t know that. It is reasonable to expect effects.
Ugh. Effects. “Sanctuary Moon helped, though. Maybe we can alternate episodes. Or something. I don’t know.”
I could feel ART’s approval. That is a very rational idea.
“Fuck you, ART.”
I went back to Countless Shimmering Stars, the show from earlier. It was a historical drama about early days of interstellar travel, and I liked it aside from the apparently-too-realistic human deaths.
I am glad you’re feeling better, ART said before I could start the show. You can always pause if something upsets you, you know. I don’t mind.
I still minded. But even though ART’s support made me have an emotion (ugh), I appreciated it. “I know.”