Security quietly claims Max's nearer hand, moving it to the back of its own neck. To the port there. It's going to let Watson do the speaking, but silently it's saying something real fucking loud: We're not so different. And they're not, they never have been.

So many humans on this ship...so many people...know what it is to be programmed. To be injected with toxic code, literally or otherwise. To be a thing, not a person. So many. And they're all hurting still. Because it doesn't go away--even if this was an actual vacation and they were all free, it doesn't just go away.