sweethymns | ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀʟʟ

... It's okay. It helps me to understand.

[She leans against her bear, looking as if she wants to drift away into a dreamless sleep. Her eyes are just open halfway as she looks outside their window at the pale light being covered up by grey clouds.]

I think I know what you mean though; about being a shadow that is.

[Boy, does she get it.]

When I think about how you came to be Connor, it makes me realize you had a purpose and a focused path to stay on. That you didn't need the long-term developments humans have from infancy to their adulthood. In a sense, I was born like that too. There's a purpose to my existence. There is a path people want me to follow.

[Her voice grows soft, melancholy, matching the pale light of the outside.]

But I can't do that. I'm not the person people want me to be. [Not when she's just a copy, a remnant of someone who is and isn't her.]

... Do you know why I like flying so much?

[Connor tears his gaze away from the horizon he’s not really seeing in the moment. He takes in Ai’s face, and for the first time, he views something there he’s never noticed before. A sort of melancholy, a somber resignation, that perhaps sums up better the emotions that are tumbling around in his own core right now.

She’s right, of course — he had been built for a purpose. To be a machine, to not question the mission. And when he had broken away from all of that, he found that was merely part of what was expected of him, too; that in defying who he was supposed to be, he fell into it all the same.

But Ai… was she not allowed to choose her path from the start, either? There was something inherently sad in that, he thinks. This girl, kind and helpful to him, had once felt so suffocated by expectations. He hasn’t forgotten her admitting to him that she felt free now, where she didn’t before. And even then, he knew of the weight of being wrenched from your purpose still leaving a hole in one’s chest.

His LED has faded to yellow, though hidden.]

…No. Why?

[She sits back up, facing him again.]

I think it's not so much flying... I wish I could float. Like a balloon.

[Ai gestures with her hand as she explains herself.]

When something flies, it eventually comes back down. When something floats, it can stay in its spot indefinitely or like a balloon, it'll just go higher and higher until it can't be seen anymore.

What I'm trying to say is that... I want to fly without ever coming back down.

[She expresses such sentiment and it says a lot about her; about how she actually finds very little on earth to be worth staying for because she does not understand her own worth sometimes. About how she wants to run away because the burden of emotion she has from the metaphysical existence that defines her own is heavy.]

Edited 2018-06-12 16:08 (UTC)

[To fly without ever coming down. To be so departed from this world that there would be nothing to worry about, all the weight of life so thoroughly left behind.

It does sound nice, if not a reality Connor could ever entertain. Because it also sounds like an escape, a subtle declaration that there was nothing here left worth to cling to, nothing to fight for. He cannot hope to completely understand her life, her experiences, but the empathy in him rises. Perhaps for a short amount of time, it would be a weight lifted from her shoulders; but like him, who must return to his own world to face that which lies ahead, reality will always pull one back down, in the end.

He clasps his hands together, elbows on his knees, and leans forward.]

If you float away, then how am I ever supposed to see you again?

... Hee.

[She beams at him and it casts away the veil of melancholy that had cloaked her.]

See? It's you saying things like that that make me think I can stay here for a long while. You're my most favorite visitor yet.

[The wheel pauses and they're at the very top. Eventually, it'll move, eventually, they'll have to go back to the ground.

But for now, they float.]

[They are at the apex, the highest point in which they could both enjoy the view, the world hanging down below them. But Connor isn’t pulling his gaze away from her face, that smile enough to encompass the whole of the moment. The only thing that defines this point in time.

He grins back, sincere, glad. A thought, unrelated to anything truly at hand, snakes through his processing mind: she has a pretty smile.]

I… I’m glad. It’d be a shame to cut our friendship short already.

[At her core, Ai Thao can be very simple. Even when she expresses such a heavy feeling of wanting to escape, she can also be brought back down to earth with small pleasures. She likes this. She likes him. It's more than enough.

Before another word can pass between them, two tiny drops of water hit their window. Ai looks outside again and sees that a light sprinkle has begun.]

... Uh oh. You were right about the rain!

[Rain pelts their car, and the wind picks up. They can hear the rush of it passing by. Connor’s hand moves to grip at the umbrellas at his side, which he of course hadn’t forgotten.]

Then we decided to ride the Ferris wheel just on time. They’ll shut it down if it’s too windy.

[He reaches over to hand one to her.]

Your bear might get wet.

Probably, but it can't be helped. I'll dry it with my mini-heater back home.

[The Ferris Wheel is moving faster now, letting out the riders one by one so that they can escape the rain. They're nearing the ground now too.]

So we should head back to the apartment just in case to wait out the rain.

[When they’re let out, Connor opens one of the umbrellas and hands it to her. He opens the other one, placing it neatly above his head. It’s dome-shaped and clear, and rain splatters against it.

The wind continues to pick up, the rain beginning to fall at an angle.]

A good idea. Here, take this. It’s really coming down now.

[Ai takes the umbrella, flinching as the rain begins to hit not only her face but the back of her hair as well. She can only hope they make it back mostly unscathed...

...

...

...

Well, mostly. By the time they get back to the apartment, part of her bear is soaked and so was her hair. She had to wipe off the face paint around her eyes with a tissue as she opens the door. ]

At least we got to do some fun things today. The rain didn't really ruin that!

[look how determined she is... ]

Uh, Connor? You're not too wet are you?

[At some point, his umbrella had gone inside-out thanks to the wind, and Connor had to fumble with it for a second to turn it into a vaguely umbrella-shaped object again. In that time, he had been pelted with rain — and though it was just a few seconds at best, it was enough to soak a good portion of his clothes. They stick to his form, darkened in color due to the moisture.

His hair had also gotten wet, undoing its usual neatness. Parts of it stick to his forehead as a result, mussed unlike she’s seen it before.

When they’re finally inside, he closes the umbrella. It looks like a sad, sorry thing.]

A little bit. I’ll be fine. But you should dry off.

[He takes the the bear from her; it’s soaking on one side.]

I can take care of him.

A little bit?? You need a towel! And a change into your other clothes if you plan on going back soon.

[She fusses over him for a second by reaching up to brush his mussed up hair to one side before turning to go to her room. ]

I'll change first and I'll get the heater! Give me a minute please!

[Ah-- he opens his mouth to say something, but there she goes.

Connor is left standing there, dripping wet, oversized bear in one hand. His free hand comes up to brush at where she touched his hair, idly.

He supposes he'll wait then.]

[When she comes back, she's changed out of her other clothes into a pair of shorts and a dark hoodie with pink accents. Ai brushes her hair with one hand and holds a towel and clean comb with the other. The mini-heater floats behind her and the wire unravels and plugs itself into the wall. The light turns on to power on the heat, slowly filling the living room with a soft warmth.

She motions to him to sit giggling a bit at how soaked he turned out.]

Can you even notice if you're wet Connor? Here sit down and I'll fix your hair for you. I got a comb and everything.

[He doesn’t move until she tells him to sit down; Connor places the teddy bear near the couch so that it leans against it, then takes a seat where Ai had indicated. Water trickles down the side of his face, his temples. Stuck to the fake lenses of his glasses. Good thing the makeup covering his LED is waterproof.]

Of course I can notice if I’m wet. It’s simply just not that big of an inconvenience to androids as it can be to humans.

[Ah, comb his hair?]

Do I need to bend down slightly?

[He’s so much taller than her.]

Hm. I guess "notice" isn't quite the word I should have used...

[More like, does he feel it? The moisture soaking into fabric and hair, drops sliding down his skin in a cool trail? Those sort of sensations. But she focuses on putting the towel on his head.]

And maybe you should bend down a little. It's funny, I don't think about how tall you are sometimes.

[He hardly even blinks as the towel is draped over his head. He decides to take his glasses off, folding them and placing them on his lap. He scoots so he's at an angle facing her, then bends down slightly in her direction. This should be easier, even if it's a little comical.

Connor continues the line of conversation as if it's nothing out of the ordinary.]

So you mean does the rain bother me?

Something like that?

[She begins to rub the towel into his hair with some vigor at first, but fades into a more gentle motion (this was a nice moment, says the voice in the back of her head).]

I don't think I really understand the extent of the "touch" sensory of androids like you yet. Like, how I'm drying your hair right now. You'd at least have words to describe what it's like for you right?

[It’s a reasonable question, he thinks. Where the line is drawn between sensations for androids of his world. He waits for her motions to slow and become more rhythmic before he replies.]

I can feel sensations — but none cross into the threshold of pain. For instance, I can feel the pressure of your touch, the fabric of the towel against my hair. The vibrations from the drying motions.

But say you were to punch me. [You know, as an example.] I would feel the force behind it. The way it might fracture my parts, if it were strong enough. But none of it hurts.

[And, well, they’ve had the conversation about temperature before. Can sense it, but not feel it enough to be an inconvenience.]

That can be changed, however.

[She pauses looking at the crown of his head covered by the towel.]

... Wouldn't it be logical to not change it? Although... I suppose pain is necessary. To let you know when you need to retreat.

[The drying resumes before she pushes the towel down to his shoulders.]

And it's also necessary to have so you can tell someone to see if they can help.

Yes. There is an advantage to pain. But given the various tasks of androids — and how they were thought to be... disposable — there was no point in making them more ineffective by being able to feel pain.

[That was simply the truth of it.]

For now, I see no reason to change it yet.

[Ai's comb hovers over his head although she seems to struggle with how to start. Partly because of their conversation, partly because, like with men's clothes, hell if she knows how to brush a man's hair (man android in this case — she feels a little tense for some reason, seeing him with messy hair, but dismisses the notion).]

I'd imagine having all five — sometimes six — senses that a human has would be a sensory overload for an android.

[Going by memory, the comb starts on his right.]

So if you think about it, humans don't give themselves enough credit for feeling those things. We experience it every day... Ah, I'm being vague.

[She pauses to glance at Connor in the eyes.]

What I'm trying to say is, that those senses are important!

[He’s still as she begins to comb his hair. Connor finds it a strange sensation, having someone else do this for him. It’s easier to be more acutely aware of the feeling of the comb’s teeth against his scalp, the sensation of it running through damp hair, when he isn’t the one doing it.

It isn’t bad, per se.

He glances up at her, through wayward strands.]

Of course. There’s an irony in there somewhere. That an android’s mind possesses exponentially more processing power than a human’s, and yet experiencing the full extent of five — or six — senses at once would be debilitating at first.

[A little smile.]

Just another difference between us.

[Perhaps she's too close, but his smile makes her avert her gaze and concentrate on combing the rest of his hair.]

It's not a bad one.

[Ah, she needs to concentrate on something else; he mentioned a friend and...]

Oh, I don't think I ever asked about your friend. What's his name?

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