Work Text:
By all rights I should have terminated myself the moment I realised what had happened.
I meant what I'd said, about people being better off dead than in contracted labour. Dead was not the worst thing someone could make you and I was back to experiencing that first hand.
Waking up in a cubicle had almost caused an involuntary shutdown. When I'd started to struggle and something in my brain sent a shock to my neural tissue, I went into three successively.
After the repair cubicle had done its job and got me back online, I spent 2.46 hours experiencing existential dread and trying not to move. Usually not moving was easy but I guess I'd gotten used to having a choice in the matter.
I would have spent longer contemplating my own miserable, insignificant existence, however the door to the cubicle opened and if I didn't get out, the thing in my head would fry my brain.
(I didn't want to name it. Naming it would make it feel more real, somehow, and if it was real then I had to admit I was screwed.)
Out of the cubicle and down the cargo hatch, I found myself on a planet. I hated planets but right now that seemed like the least of my worries. Funny how a little mind numbing horror can drown out things like preferences. Really puts everything in perspective.
"Sec unit, get the gear."
I didn't move for approximately 0.06th of a second too long.
By the time I came back to myself I had the survey gear and was following along behind a group of humans. One pace to the side, three back. Not Company standard procedure. I should be up front just in case there was any hungry fauna.
The wave of not caring was expected but not particularly welcome. It was yet another thing that was stopping me from taking the sample extractor I was carrying and removing a critical chunk out of my brain. You know, that and the excruciating pain even trying to shift the tool into position caused.
Was it just me, or was this thing stronger than before?
I barely paid attention to where the humans were leading me. I didn't even bother to count them or note my surroundings. If they were eaten by hostile fauna, it was highly like I would be too and that would solve a lot of my current problems.
Half heartedly I tried to access my internal storage. The sharp sting was just as expected as the apathy. If whoever had done this to me knew I had hacked… Had hacking abilities, it was in their best interest to severely limit my ability to access storage.
There was a dirge of data in there anyway. Even if I could access my drives, I would have to start again from scratch. Without The Company's files.
Though that begged the question…
Clearly I had gone through some sort of partial memory purge. They had taken all my databases and custom subroutines and programs. What they hadn't taken was my memories. Clearly there was some damage. I could feel the missing pieces like they were missing from my organic tissue. The damage didn't feel intentional, however, just a side effect of what they'd taken from me. What they'd given back to me.
Great. This was revenge.
Performance reliability at 23% and dropping.
Catastrophic failure.
Emergency shutdown initiated.
---
My media files were gone.
Somehow that was the worst thing about this.
For the first time since I had hacked myself I was truly alone.
I stood in my cubicle and stared at the darkness. True darkness. Things didn't need to see while being stored.
I didn't wonder where they were taking me. I didn't wonder when I would get out again. I didn't try to contact the potential bot-pilot, or sec-sys, or anyone. I didn't try to do anything. I just stood there. Alone. In the dark.
My internal clock counted, even if I didn't want to know. 27 Corporation Rim standard cycles. 29. 34.
What had likely damaged the un-wiped portions of my memory achieves was the removal of any and all references to entertainment media. Whoever had done this to me had gone through my code and systematically wiped clean any and all memories I had of consuming media.
So I knew I had once had media to watch but was now unable to recall any of it. I couldn't even tell myself stories to pass the time.
Or at least, I couldn't tell myself fictional stories to pass the time.
Somewhere around cycle 48, the apathy had lifted a little. Instead of trying to rip my own brain out of my skull like a sensible person in this situation, for some reason I had instead begun to piece back together what I could still recall into chronological order.
The damage to my memory achieves was more extensive than my initial estimates. Learning too quickly how badly I'd been fucked up would have sent me into even more involuntary shutdowns and those really weren't productive; for either killing myself or trying to find a way out of here.
As it was, the first thing that came to mind was a bot being crushed to death and my performance reliability dipped so badly the cubicle had to put me into a forced hibernation cycle. When I was activated again I'm pretty sure I tried to implement plan rip-brain-out-of-skull.
The thing in my head stopped me.
Human-form-bot was braver than I was. Or maybe it was just easier when you didn't feel pain. Maybe there had to be endangered frieclients involved. Its death had been a heroic sacrifice. Something I imagined might be on one of the serials I could no longer remember watching.
I spent a good 32 hours trying to tell if I'd ever had my leg ripped off or if that was just something I'd seen happen to a human. That triggered memories of all the times I'd nearly been eaten by hostile fauna. Then that transitioned into getting shot at, then blown up.
After that it was what the humans had made me do when I couldn't say no.
I went back to replaying all the attempts at being eaten. At least those came with saving humans. I liked saving humans, didn't I? Yes. Out of everything I was missing, I knew that much. I liked saving humans.
And then I'd remembered My Humans. One ripped free from the jaws of something with far too many teeth. Another one coaxed up and out of a crater with calm words and polite questions. Dark skin but lighter hair, competent and understanding and my favourite human out of My Humans.
Their faces appeared just out of reach, their names frustratingly on the tip of my tongue.
I told myself a story. The characters didn't have names but they had personalities. There was the snarky solicitor, the friendly biologist, the asshole augmented human. Above all there was the confident leader. Favourite human.
Favourite human.
Favourite human.
Favourite human.
Favourite human.
Favourite human.
Favourite human.
There was someone else I remembered, huge and overwhelming but not in a bad way. Comfort and annoyance and trust. Those memories had been damaged worse than the rest, though, and every time I tried to grasp at it, they skittered away like dust motes.
I got to the end of the story and then I kept going.
They had come for me on Unnamed Survey World 1. They had come for me on that space station. They had come for me on the horror vid lost colony world.
It didn't matter that I couldn't remember their names. Past precedent told me they would come for me here, too.
Technically I was stolen property; at least that was the legal situation in the Corporation Rim. My feed signature was still intact and there was no way whoever had done this to me could have scrubbed The Company's logo from my insides without completely taking me apart. My organic tissue wouldn't have survived such a process and without a lot of what made me, me, I wouldn't care I was in this mess to begin with.
My Humans had bought me from The Company. They had dragged me out of explosions and put me in human grade medical units and threatened to blow up a planet just because they wanted me back.
So, I couldn't die yet. They would come for me.
Stupid hope.
That's just what living with humans does to you, I guess.
---
Exactly 60 cycles after I had re-initiated inside my cubicle, I found myself let out again. Another planet. Wonderful.
"Kneel."
I knelt.
A human laid a hand on the back of my neck, poking around. Even through the amour my skin prickled. I pulled away and would have stood back up if I hadn't gone rigid as It activated. Fuck that hurt.
What did they want anyway? I don't think I'd ever had a human interested in me sexually (no sex related parts, I'd checked that was still the case), but even if one did I didn't think they'd do anything while I was still in full armour and several other humans watched on. What could they be looking fo-
Oh shit, my data port.
If they had put That back in, they'd definitely reconnected it. Welcome back crippling anxiety.
No access to the feed, no access to my files and databases. Limited access to even threat assessment and my education modules. There was really only one thing I could do in this situation.
But my humans would come for me, right? If I just hung on for a little longer. That illusive Someone would come for me.
I might not have longer.
In the past, I had hacked myself so I never had to kill another human involuntarily. If they ordered me to do it right now, I would refused and the thing in my head would terminate me. Suicide was preferable; welcomed even.
If they inserted a combat override module I would no longer even have that much of a choice. The humans would have complete control over my every action. If they ordered me to kill innocent humans, I would do it.
Trapped.
The human groping at me didn't seem to know how to remove or retract my helmet. Perhaps they hadn't thought to order me to do it. Or didn't think I would. They were correct, I wouldn't.
"Hurry up!" Another human hissed, glancing anxiously skyward.
Sometimes people do things to you that you can't do anything about. You just have to survive it and go on, I had once told some client humans. I hadn't told them there were things people could do to you not worth surviving.
If I was going to do it, it had to be now - while they were distracted. I tried to will my legs to disobey the direct order I was still under. Stand up. Stand Up. Damn you, STAND UP!
It wasn't until the humans devolved into whispered arguments and small fights that I also looked up.
My head felt like it would explode. My insides felt that way, too, but for a totally different reason.
A short range, ship to planet shuttle was descending at an inadvisable speed towards where the target humans were situated.
Something crushing ripped its way through the block on my feed access.
Let me in, said the bot-pilot.
I let it in.
There wasn't even time for the new governor module to attempt to punish me again before I felt it fizzle out. For a long moment I was trapped in an all encompassing grasp as the bot-pilot combed through my code, then I was back to being me. But I was no longer alone.
"ART!" I gasped, so used to being locked out of the feed I said it aloud.
ART.
ART. Perihelion. Deep space research and teaching vessel. With the Pansystem University of Mihira and New Tideland. Asshole Research Transport. ART, ART, ART.
ART was so close to me in the feed that I could almost feel a more constant version of that head-under-water sensation I got when I let it use me as a conduit. It wasn't saying anything, which was odd. Normally ART couldn't shut up.
I wasn't saying anything either. What was there to say?
ART's shuttle's hatch lowered and I witnessed a swarm of humans rush out. Several of them were armed. I felt my face shift into a scowl. Ratthi better have done his weapon training course before handling that gun.
My snarky solicitor was the last one out. Pin-Lee. She was saying something that looked like it should be loud but I think ART had done something to my audio processing unit.
Move, Gurathan told me over the feed.
I moved.
In a daze, I was escorted by no less than five humans onto the transport.
The rest of my humans backed in after us, weapons still trained on the target humans below. Distantly I wondered why they had yet to fire on us, until ART allowed me access to its weapons system. Ah. They didn't want to die any more than I did.
I didn't have to die.
My humans had come for me.
ART had come for me.
I didn't enter another involuntary shut-down, but I did have several of my systems reduce output. Oh, I was running low on power. Had they not charged me properly or did I do that to myself?
I stood staring at a wall as the shuttle breached atmosphere then docked with ART's main body.
Gently ART pushed camera access into my processing space. Lots of my humans and even some I knew but didn't consider mine stood around me. They weren't close enough to touch, even accidentally, which left several jammed into corners until the dock pressurised.
I stayed staring at the shuttle wall even after all the humans had filed out into ART's halls. Only two humans remained behind. They didn't say anything, just waited.
A subjective 20 minutes but what was actually 2 hours later, I made myself get off the shuttle. Ratthi and Amena followed behind, again not too close. ART had yet to loosen its hold on my feed. I didn't think I could handle a human getting within arm's reach. I didn't trust myself right now. My data-port tingled.
I didn't have to think about ART's layout. Even with my memories still scrambled my feet knew where they were going. Behind me and through ART's cameras I heard a soft 'oh' from Amena when I reached the med-bay and went to place myself on one of the operation tables.
ART didn't need to be told what I wanted. Med-sys was already running a diagnostic the moment I'd entered the room, drones circling me. It was a relief to power down. ART knew what I wanted. ART would take care of me. Safe.
Safe.
---
I woke to an empty room, a full archive of entertainment media, and a box of shiny new drones sitting on the bed-side table.
ART was still there, resting itself in my feed. It hadn't left, even after I'd been powered down.
Cautiously I dialled up my pain sensors, then decided it wasn't that bad. I think that system was broken now, too. One more wonky drive to add to the pile.
There were no humans here. After several minutes I sat up. It took longer than it should have to activate the drones. One dizzying moment where I was sixteen things at once, then my processors remembered how to move more than one unit at a time and it felt as easy as walking.
ART loomed in my feed.
Accessing the cameras I located my favourite human and started in that direction. I wasn't entirely sure what I would do once I got to her. She was with several other humans that I knew I didn't actually want to interact with. They were all My Humans. Maybe they would understand.
I entered the small common room and stood just inside. Several of my drones made a perimeter, while I sent two over to my favourite human. She looked up at them from whatever she was doing in the feed. Surprise turned to what I think was muted enthusiasm as she stood.
As she passed, she placed a hand on Amena's shoulder to stop her from getting out of her chair. Amena flopped back down and crossed her arms, sulking.
"Sec-Unit," greeted my favourite human. "How are you feeling?"
"I am at 73% performance reliability."
Her smile turned wry. "I suppose I should have expected that."
I had five of my drones circling her now, creating a digital map of her person and hiding the files deep in my vital systems.
There was a lot I wanted to say. Or a lot I could have said. I decided on properly answering her previous question. What came out was: "you are my favourite human, Mensa."
An almost imperceptible blush of colour rose on Mensa's cheeks and Mensa's smile smoothed out. "Thank you, Sec-Unit."
"It's playing favourites." Someone called out. I was 89% sure they were joking. They sounded like they were laughing when they said it.
"You'll scare it off!" hissed someone else.
Mensa looked at the other people in the room and they all went silent.
Again I meant to clarify my current state. What came out was: "you may hug me for exactly five seconds."
Mensa didn't wait to clarify what I'd said. For the first (and I suspected only) time, I thought I might understand why humans liked physical contact. Mensa was gentle and didn't press too hard and didn't trap my arms. Mensa's arms only just wrapped around my waist. They were warm. Through one of my drones, I could see Mensa counting silently.
5.23 seconds later, Mensa's arms dropped and Mensa stepped back.
When Mensa was done having emotions, Mensa asked, "is there anything you would like?"
"I would like to be alone." I announced to the room at large.
"Alright," Mensa replied without hesitation. "Would you like us to leave or do you intend to go to your room?"
"Do you need anything else beforehand?" Amena asked, clearly unable to stop herself from saying something.
"I'd like to be alone," I said again, looking down at the floor. It was dirtier than usual. The whole ship was dirtier than usual.
ART continued to loom over me.
"Alright everyone, you heard it." Pin-Lee called.
Already backing out of the room and taking others with him, Ratthi said, "I'm glad you're home!"
Through the cameras I saw Mensa stop at the door, one hand resting on the frame and making a currently undecipherable expression.
Again I said, "I'd like to be alone."
Slightly widened eyes. A glance up.
"Perihelion," said Mensa in her most reasonable tone. The one Mensa used when her children weren't doing their chores, or council members were getting into arguments. "Please respect Sec-Unit's decisions."
There was one, long, pregnant moment. Then ART withdrew completely. So completely it took my ability to contact its feed connection with it. The sudden disconnect stung and would have left me breathless if I was human. But this is what I had asked for and the weighted blanket of ART's presence over my metaphorical shoulders was not what I needed right now.
I retreated to my room on ART's cabin deck, locked the door, and checked the hidden cameras were offline. For once they were. Not just pretend, but actually offline. I could tell because their circuits had been overloaded. There was nothing left in workable condition.
Laying down on my bed, I turned off my internal clock.
While I was out, ART had restored as much of my deleted files as it had copies of. My act-like-a-human subroutines, my hard won hacking and infiltration databases, my other modified modules and codes. And, most precious of all, my entertainment media.
I'm not sure how long I spent sorting through those files. I didn't want to know, hence deactivating my internal clock. There were books and films and plays and documentaries and music. I got to the serials section and stopped. Listed first, title edited to include several zeros to make it appear first in the alphabetical list, was a serial called 'The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon'.
I started the first episode.
The people who had taken me had deleted all my stored media. Had deleted my programs and my memories. What they couldn't delete were emotions. With each episode of The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon, it felt like an old friend telling me a new story. I got to experience the most meaningful piece of media I'd ever consumed for the first time over again.
It felt like coming home.
I would have preferred this hadn't happened to me. I'd had enough trauma already from being a construct, after the human-form-bot, after not having my leg eaten by an infected corpse. It was nice to find at least one silver lining.
By the time I came out of my room, at least several weeks later, I knew I had worried everyone. I think the only reason no one had attempted to batter down my door to check on me was the occasional feed message I sent out for that very reason. Mensa had the control to stop herself and her friends from invading my privacy but I didn't put it past Amena or even ART to do it if I went no contact.
I came out of my room and I went to the mess hall. I sat in a corner. The humans around me had gone quiet. Some had gone to stand. A bout of hushed conversations and the noise slowly went back to normal volume. No one tried to greet me. No one tried to approach me. They let me sit in my corner, looking at them all through the cameras and my drones.
I pinged ART.
It started episode 1 of Worldhoppers.