Writing is one of the best ways to heal a broken heart. Especially when finally allowing someone to see the break, and that someone holds you close and says "It's ok, we can rebuild together" and mean it. -- Anon Guest
[AN: The urge to write Murderbot is fucking strong with this one]
Sweet merciful Powers, this Deregger conglomerate had gone too far. They had achieved almost godlike prowess with their technology, to the point of making cyborg servants for every need the organic folk had. Yet also enslaving a majority of the organic folk. The people in charge did everything to keep the rest down, but since the cyborgs were lower, the entire organic population were vicious martinets whenever they had access to the right victim.
It might have been dubiously passable if the cyborgs weren't sentient. The CRC would have been on their collective tails anyway, but the instant a rogue Security Construct fell into Alliance hands? They were in for an apocalyptic level shitstorm.
The construct called itself Killstruct, and insisted on using the pronouns 'it' and 'its'. Currently, it was very much surprised with the relative freedom of a quarantine habitat. Killstruct had, upon regaining consciousness, inspected the three chambers necessary for minimum single accommodation. The 'public' facing chamber for interviews, the relatively private space for rest and ablutions, and the oxygenating algae farm in lieu of the legally-obligated garden space. It noted the presence of Therapist Lys'm sitting calmly outside the 'public' wall. Assessed its situation.
"Am I correct in concluding that this arrangement is for mutual safety?" asked Killstruct.
"That's exactly right," said Lys'm, making a few notes in his datareader. "We have to keep you in quarantine until we can synthesise protection for you and for ourselves in regards to your associated viral or pathogenic biota."
"Where is my repair cubicle?"
"It's being analysed. Some of our engineers are working on improvements. For example... diverting pain from reaching you while it's working on your repairs." Lys'm allowed Killstruct to see the teams being very careful with the initial technology. "If you'd like to provide input on improvements, we're glad to help you."
Killstruct stayed completely motionless, staring at Lys'm. But not directly. It seemed to have an issue with direct eye contact. Two entire minutes passed, a relative eternity in computer time. Finally, it said, "Why?"
"Society benefits when the populace helps other members of the populace," Lys'm said. "We've had numerous real-time experiments in social assistive philosophy versus relentless acquisition of material wealth for the few... at the cost of oppression of the many. In those, the latter always ends in bloody revolution. The former? It persists in mutual prosperity."
There was an argument about the might of capitalism and oppression versus the homogenous poverty of "woo-woo socialism", according to Killbot. It was shocked again and again at the fact that it was complying with Alliance protocol despite the fact that it could choose to overwhelm the safeguards with its pre-installed weaponry.
"Why do you comply?" said Lys'm. "You have the freedom to do whatever you want."
"I... I know that such action would be counterproductive. I've scanned this facility and noted other safeguards." After a moment, it added, "And you have a very impressive media library."
Ah. So it was using escapism as a coping mechanism. "Have you thought of making some of your own media?"
"...occasionally," it allowed.
Lys'm directed the in-habitat printer to create a thick notebook and an easy-grip pen. The production instantly got Killstruct's attention. "Now you have the freedom to try."
"Unhackable," it murmured. "Guaranteed privacy." Something it had never had before.
"When you want to share what you've made," offered Lys'm, "I'm on call."
And when Killstruct was ready to testify, Lys'm would be listening too.
[Photo by Ashley West Edwards on Unsplash]
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