Just once in my life, I think Iâd like the real thing. Just once. He watched her lean back and settle in, tracing over the expression on her face with sympathy. There wasn't a single word of comfort or promise he could make and even begin to keep. There was a chance that all of the soil she would see would come from battlefields during combat. There was no pristine fields of carefully planted crops, no massive gardens with winding pathways, no garden in the backyard to look forward to when this was all said and done.
He paused. It was more than that. It went back to the part of her that hadn't lived, not like the agents had. Almost. She would live, but it wouldn't be the same life as the humans had a shot at. All of the comforts he could yearn for and rest on were things just out of her reach. It wasn't the lack of real soil â though it was for sure part of her dreams, that was clear â it was the lack of reality in general. A harsh frown tugged at the corners of his pursed lips.
He almost stopped her at her next line, ready to argue that she was real. She was sitting right next to him, thinking for herself. Her emotions, her thoughts, those were all real. He watched her extend her hand and bit his tongue to let her finish. He had already made a fool out of himself with failing to recognize his less than stellar phrasing earlier.
So he listened, hanging onto each word. Part of him understood what she was coming from. Not to the same degree and obviously from a different angle, but he had been in a similar spot. There were times where it was easier to slip into fantasies, not to escape but to cope. She wasn't running from what she was, or at least it didn't sound like she was, but she was finding a way to make the harsh blows of reality softer.
Maybe she had tried to run at one point. Ignore the obvious faults that separated her from everyone else, striving to fit in with no exceptions. It was a hard desire to fight. Who didn't want to be normal? Who didn't want to fit in? Learning and adapting to situations while conveniently ignoring the truth wasn't hard to do. He certainly had fallen into that trap.
It had left him feeling like even more of an outsider.
Her dreams of being based off of someone else, a copy of someone who was unquestionably real, was something easy to step into. Accepting where she was, but still having an outlet. It was just whimsical enough that part of her could stay in reality, but just plausible enough that she could escape into the fantasy. A quiet part of him wished he could join her in thinking that there was a copy of him out there living life. Growing up he would have latched onto it.
It would have been an easier dream to crush than the hope of him being whole. It was easier to swallow than the fact that in their own ways, neither of them would have a chance to be real. Both of them would die as fragments still trying to catch up and learn. He hoped that she would have more chances after this to learn, to find a place that was comfortable for her full time. It was something that he had been trying to find for thirty years and it was something he wasn't sure he had found.
This moment was probably the closest he had ever really gotten. He wasn't faking anything, he wasn't pretending to try and fit in. Whatever instincts he had, and didn't have, were the only things he was depending on. No internal struggles to figure out the perfect thing to say, or walk in circles trying to figure out every contextual clue he was given. He almost felt like thanking her.
When it came to death he was indifferent. They could both agree to go into what came next without hesitation, not real hesitation. He had been frustrated with her earlier over not fighting, over not being angry and ready to fight back. As he watched her and listened, he understood more and more that while it was awful, it was inevitable for her too. Fighting wasn't always the answer when facing an impossible odd. The real fight was mental, learning to make things easier for when it did happen.
To tell her to fight back was ridiculous of him. He couldn't bring himself to do anything other than lean back and wait. He'd close his eyes, take a deep breath and jump. Just like he had always done. Lie through the fear and call it a miracle when things didn't go wrong. If he could just keep lying to himself a bit longer, he'd never have to face the harsh reality of it all ever again.
âI like that, actually. It's...â He paused for a moment, debating on what he should say. It's comforting but probably shouldn't be. A guilty escape. He brushed a hand through his hair, tilting his head slightly with a soft hum as he thought.
The only thing he could really focus on was the fact that it was possible she was created from someone else, or based off of them at least. The Director wouldn't throw away something that he had gone through the process of recreating someone else. Not unless he absolutely had to. Tara was not broken, not in Austin's mind. Even if she was broken, there would be other steps that came first. For humans it would be medical visits, hours sitting around talking with a therapist hoping to patch over whatever holes were causing the problem. If the AIs had been created with such care, such importance, surely the Director would try something like that before just tossing them aside. Wouldn't he?
He was hardly the right person to ask. His life was disposable, he would fit the mold or would be removed. At the worst, Tara would be wiped and rebooted. Given another chance. That was something he wouldn't bring up. Her fate was in a way much worse than his. She'd cycle through the same hallways until there was no amount of deleting and restarting that could save her. His misery would be something he only had to endure once. He shook his head pushed the thought away. The Director wouldn't be that cruel.
âJust forgetting. It sounds similar to reincarnation. A chance to have things turn out differently next time around. I can buy into that,â he paused once more. âAnd for what it's worth, I think you're just as real as that woman is. You've just seen different things than she has. It doesn't make you worth more or less. A different perspective on life is something I was always taught to treasure, to find strengths in.â