come_sailaway | JUNE EVENT: CAMP

JUNE EVENT: CAMP

early on June 10th, Friday's morning announcements end with a request for everyone going on the latest excursion to meet her in the atrium. she seems in noticeably better spirits than she had been last time, and she leads them cheerfully to the tender. once they are all aboard, and the door is securely shut, the interior fills with gas, and, perhaps, their last thought before they slip into unconsciousness is "oh shit, not again."

passengers wake up on a rickety old school bus, driving down a dirt road surrounded by woods. what is it that they notice first? that, no matter what they were wearing before, they are now wearing a camp t-shirt and legitimately horrifyingly short shorts? the overstuffed backpack between their knees? the words "take one down and pass it around" dying on their lips? the fact that Friday is absolutely driving the bus?

or, maybe the fact that it's already slowing down, pulling up in front of a massive wooden sign, saying:

CAMP AION

when they get out of the bus, Friday is the one to divide them up into their cabin groups, and she is the one to give the counselors their very official-looking clipboards and whistles. she explains that they are in charge, and that she will be back to pick them up in a week, and... very little else. she responds to nothing outside of whatever is on her unseen little script, and she gets back on the bus shortly after, leaving them there.

welcome to camp. let's make some summer memories!

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Murderbot glances up above the fire as what initially looks like a large bug dips down from the skies. Up close, it's actually a tiny drone, about a centimeter in diameter with a small propeller above it.

"Remote controlled drones that interface directly with my inorganic brain. They're accessories that were leased out with me by the company."

"So you send those little guys all over, huh?" He's still not sure if that feels less or more invasive, but he's going to try to give it the benefit of the doubt that it's trying to just keep some bad shit from happening.

"When you came over-- seemed like you were a little irritated. What happened between you and Steven anyway?"

"He expected me to be a nice person. I failed to meet his expectations on both counts." It's a snarky answer, but then it sighs.

"He managed to push a few buttons in quick succession, talking about 'fleshy bits', commenting about how I wasn't made to be polite, saying I'm the culmination of someone's dreams or some shit. Look, I know I'm a rogue SecUnit, dangerous to human life and if people back home knew I'd disabled my governor module, I'd be scrapped for parts. I'm not...good. Alright? And I kinda wanted to prove that to him all at once so he didn't get expectations about me."

Well-- he can understand wanting to push people away before they get too close, or get the impression you're a decent guy. He does. It's just-- this is Steven and Marc is always sore when people threaten him, scare him.

"Look-- he says whatever's on his mind sometimes. He doesn't think. And he's an idiot who wants to see the best in everybody." Whereas Marc wants to assume the worst.

"For what it's worth, pretty sure you scared him into not coming around again."

"Probably for the best, that. There's plenty of people on the ship who deserve to be cared about. People who he can find some good in. I'm not one of them." Its body language becomes closed off, defensive.

"Hm." He eyes the guy closely, eyes narrowing slightly. Not hard to see what that body language means.

"You know, uh. In my experience, it doesn't usually matter what you feel about yourself. People are gonna care whether you think you deserve it or not."

Murderbot lets that statement hang in the air for a moment, silently watching the fire, its face blank.

"Their mistake, I guess."

It's an attitude that reminds it of certain members of the last survey team it had been leased out to. The one that bought out its contract, and wanted to take it home with them, to a polity where 'bots were almost citizens. Almost. They still needed a human guardian, and at that point it sounded to Murderbot like ownership with a layer of polite varnish over it.

But caring--they certainly tried to do that, especially the team's biologist, Dr. Ratthi. The first time they'd seen Murderbot out of its armor, the first time they realized it had a face, Ratthi had made gentle overtures like he thought it might be his friend.

It was a mistake when anyone tried that. In this universe or back home.

Edited 2022-06-15 07:35 (UTC)

Steven's hand goes lax in Marc's. He's more comfortable here than he is anywhere else, the closest he can be with Marc without-- making it weird. Just as Marc thinks Steven can just go out and live his life a free man, Steven also thinks Marc can do the same. He might want Steven around, but not all the time to the point where they're constantly arguing like an old married couple.

"It's not like I don't want to know what's going on," Steven clarifies. "I just-- it's all a bit too much..." He's like an excitable dog with a bone but every time he latches onto something and wants to go deeper, wants to know more, he often finds something he feels he might have been better off not knowing. He'll always be curious and a little bit stubborn and insistent, but maybe he should learn to dial it back and just be a little more patient, a little kinder to himself when he feels he's in too deep and everyone's lying to him.

"You're so stubborn," Steven chides gently. "I'm here. Nobody has to know." He gives Marc's hand a small, reassuring tug. And now everyone on the ship can see him, too. It'll take more than a medley of pills to make Steven go away. "I just wish-- people were more open, more patient, more willing to help than just. Chuck a label on and lock us away." He tries to be, with other people. But not many people are like Steven Grant.

"This is quite nice, if we don't die in the next however long we're here. I think we were always destined for an early grave with that old life. Didn't get a chance to experience something like this. This could still be a nice cruise! If we keep our heads down and don't offend the captain..."

"Yeah... I mean, probably."

Marc's thought that about anyone who's gotten close to him, really. Their mistake. It usually didn't end well. He can't imagine it'd be too different for a-- robot. Cyborg. Thing.

"But whatever you were made for, seems like you're not incapable of doing something else. You said you were doing some kinda medical training, right?"

"Dr. Watson needed a medical assistant. He was the only doctor on the ship, for a while. Now, there's more, which is good. He shouldn't get too burnt out. He's only human."

It shrugs. "He reminds me a little of someone I used to know."

"A friend? Or-- whatever you call them." He supposes it doesn't do friendships, or insists it doesn't at least.

"Maybe just someone who didn't treat you like shit because of what you are."

“A client.”

It lets that hang in the air a moment.

“Her name was Dr. Mensah. She and her team were surveying a newly-discovered planet. There were complications. That team learned more about me than anyone else had before. They found out my governor module was disabled and didn’t immediately call for me to be destroyed. Instead, Dr. Mensah bought out my contract. They wanted to take me home with them.”

"Sounds like good people." He'd guess. Unless it's really days away from some sort of murder spree, but hopefully-- not.

"Is that when you ended up here?"

“No. I ran away from them. I had things I needed to find out. About myself. That I’d never been free to look into before.”

And also, it was absolutely terrified of having people care about it, but like, it’s not going to admit that.

Though if it saw Mensah or her team again, after its time on the Serena Eterna...things would be different.

"Yeah? You get a chance to find those things?"

In Marc's opinion, sometimes it's better to not look at all. It's better to not poke at that particular hornet's nest if there's a chance you might not like what you see. But then again, he's not exactly the picture of mental health, is he?

Murderbot purses its lips, hesitating for a moment. And then it nods just a bit.

"Yes. I learned what I needed to. I...can trust myself, better. I didn't remember because they purged my digital memory, but the organic brain still knew. I was right."

That might sound garbled and confused. But it hasn't decided if Marc ought to know about what happened at the Ganaka Pit. Though...though. On some level Murderbot thinks if anyone might understand, he stands a good chance.

"You got-- other memories? In the, uh, organic brain?" This is a lot to think about. He's never talked with anyone actually-- synthetic? before. But it's interesting.

"Must be a relief though, knowing you were right about yourself." Not something Marc's ever gotten the pleasure of, usually.

"The same memories. It's just that a purge of the digital memories can't clear out what's stored in the human brain. Not completely. I'm not sure the company that created me realizes that, though. I'm not going to be the one to tell them--would you?"

It gives Marc a quiet, uncertain look--because it's not sure, what a human would do in its position.

"Me? No way. Sounds like they want to be able to control and manipulate you. Make you do what they want, punish you when you don't... that's no way to live." Marc should know. He's lived that way practically every day of his life and he knows... it's not healthy. He also knows it's a hard cycle to break out of.

"Yeah, well. It's all I've ever known for most of my existence. So maybe I'm not living, if its not a way to live." It curls around itself even tighter, more defensive. Marc's right, he clearly understands. But Murderbot simply doesn't know how to reach out and connect properly.

"... Yeah, well. Steven would say it's never too late to start." Does Marc believe that? He's-- not sure. He's not sure he even wants to try if he's honest. But he's here now, and free of the one guy who was controlling him, and needed by Steven. So he's kinda got to try, right?

"You don't sound like you'd want things to go back to the way they were either."

"Since when does what I want matter? Here, we're just tools of a different kind. Or toys, maybe." Its brow furrows. "What does Steven know about these things, anyway?"

"Yeah, well... I can't argue that. But I've been one of those most my life. Either you-- accept it or you decide it's enough, and I'm not sure it matters either way here." Not when they don't have the power. They can't leave. They can't save themselves, not yet.

"Our-- story's kinda complicated. But he's seen me at my worst and hasn't given up on me yet. I guess he knows a thing or two."

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JUNE EVENT: CAMP

CAMP AION

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