Not Quite Alike

[The_Godslayer]

Location: ▝▝▝ Battleship Mars Fighter Hangar : _̬̣̳͗ͯ͗҉̴̟̗ͪ̀́͢-̵̶̛̤̼̜͕̬ͬ̉̐͝^̛͇̰̰͚͒̐ͥ̕͏ͧ͟^̴̔͢͢-^̅̄ͦ-̬̪͌ͫ;̨̧̮̯̫̤̲̖̿ͦ̋͠3̛̱̳͆̈ͭ̀̀ͫͭ͐;̨͓̮͈͎̣̖͖ͬͣ͊̾ͭ̚͠3̛͆̇͠;̡̱̚͏̸̴̸͔̙̹͕ͦ̍͌͌̃̅̋ͧ3̤̪͓͕̤͋̋̄ͧ̚҉\͕͔́̈́͆͘͝/̷̴̴̸̜̥̝̹̺̱́̀̑̒͛̚͠͡ͅ\͉̻̹͔̈͂ͫ/͈̲́҉̵͇͍̀ͅ - tt-rr-321561--▝▁
acvX.░░░tvdgs░g-g-nn-3.16.a.n░░xciv.xc░░░ Data Corruption Detectedt̡͘-͔ͦ́̄͜͜͞͝ͅͅt̋̃̈́ͅ-̘̱̬͖͈ͯ̍̆͌̀̇̓̎̚̚͝ͅr̎͝-̶̵̶̖͛̒ͪ͆̚͜r-̛̳͎͙͕̰͖̟͚͒̇̽͗░░░-̟҉̵̢͓̩̳̩̞́ͫ͆ͪͤͬ͋͢ḣ̼̅͋ẹ̶̷͇ͦͤͭ͡-̩͑̅̿-h̒̇e̴̲̤͍̯̩̐̋͜ͅ-̧̜̠̗̙̫͕͎̠̥̿ͫ̈́̒ͤ̄̿ͫ͡ͅ-̴̡͓̅-͇ͦ̍́͝͠͏̢̡̪̩͚̰̥̇̎̚͜͞h̸̨̢̻̠̜͚̏̈̿e̷ ̨̢̺͎̣̗̹͂͂ͦ=̡̢̬̱̝͆͒͋̽͑̏̅̕͜\̤̠̋͌/̸̧̛̻͉̻̋ͨ̏͌̀̔̋\͇̀/̢̏ͯ͂M̸͓͛͘͏̯͎̟̂ͮ͟E̛̹͉̬̜̅ͭ͒͊͐ͧ͑ͣ́͡͝M̸̬͍̗̠ͬ͛͗̐́̾͝E̷̯̟̠̝͈̹̠̹͇̓ͧ̐̀̑ͯ̇S͇͓̲͈̫̑̏̽͒̉̅\̶̬͎̓͞/̦\̨̥̳̖̤̥̝̲̄́ͧ̄̈̓̌͢͡ͅ/̛̻̣̝̹͙̫͓̥̭̣̀̉ͬͧ͘͘░░░░░░░ ̬͚̠̟̖̹̈́ͮ͋̇̄̚͟-̨͇̬̔͒̈́̇͘\̸͖̻̬̠̮̥ͭͩ̈́̂̄͐͝͝͠|̶̦̩̟̙̍̆̈ͅ ̴̖͕̫̜̺͛ͣ͂ͥ͗̏ͤ̕-̴̨̟͉̭̑̒͊̀ͦ͆ͤ̊͡ ̴̧̜̞̻͉̙̗̭̈́̓͂̚-̧ͮ́ ̵̻̰̫̪̹̲̦̂͋͠ ͛̋ͧ͘ ̵̷̫͌ͪ҉̛̞̳̼̄ͩͦͫ́̊̑| ̦̎|̶̊̉̅̃҉̱̠̼̭̜͔ͣͪ̍́̍̐͞ ̷̋ͣ ͚̥͓̺̤̜̥̋͗ͮ͆̃̑ͯ͑̆͘͟|-̠͓̺̙̣͖̰ ̻̝̂̓ͫ̐ͬ/̊ ̲̲̽͏͇͔̠̋̈́̋͂̌ͥͭ͢͞͡\̮̬̘͉̽ͫ͑̚͝|̨̡̦͈͙͈͓̟̓̾͗͆̈͋ͨͪ̏͠͞ ̨̝̰͇͂/̥͈̜̂͆̌͞ ̹͊|̣͔͒ͩ̂|̶̸̵͖̬͔̮̼͇̭̾̾́́̍̆̀̂̚ ͖͓̮̂ͭͤ̎͌ͭ͘͟͞/̯ͯͣ-̱̍͏̤͊ ̱ͪ\͉͕̣̭̗̼̓̽̔҉̜̎̅ͬ^͍͍͚͕̅ͬ͗̈̓̓ͮ͡^̴̖̯͖̟̪̽ͭ̾ͧ͒ͬ͒ͦͦ\̸̬/̹̮ͭ͐̉ͥ҉̝͙̼̤̓̑̍̑

The battle over planet Gammu began abruptly despite her expecting it. Torpedoes rocked the hull as she picked her way towards the hangar as mechanically as possible. The plan she had come up with during her imprisonment was fairly simple: Given that she'd likely be shot down trying to cross the picket line back to the Core, and would also have to answer uncomfortable questions about how she had survived the slaughter aboard the Mars, her next chance was to bank on Core supply depots left on the surface of Planet Gammu. Most of them must have been evacuated, but it was a better bet than trying to escape point-blank flaks.

To that end, she had blocked access to her ship until she could slip by the small Gammu maintenance drones, and into the cargo bay. As she had planned, they would want to use the ship for combat, so she released her control over the piloting and thrust mechanisms, but not the weaponry or power control. It could travel, but it couldn't fight. Sure enough, they were content to simply remove the ship from the hangar of the Mars to make room for more useful ships. She was on her way to the surface of Gammu, all according to plan. The AIs would surely store the ship and try to breach the control mechanism.

As she felt the ship breach Gammu's thin atmosphere, she could swear she heard a familiar raging scream.

---

<: Unit Command :: Eliminate Mind Hesione :: Eliminate Allies of Hesione :>
<: Garmr Network Command :: Vengeance :>

---

A month passed on Gammu's surface, and then two. Sure enough, there remained some supplies in Core outposts. Not nearly as much as she wished, not by a long shot, but it was already a miracle that she had made it this far. No point in asking for too much.

What was really getting under her skin, in a literal sense sometimes, was the wear and tear. The high radiation of Omicron Kappa, and by extent Planet Gammu, wasn't doing any kindnesses to her processing system. She had a time limit here, and the clock had started ticking as soon as she left the shielding of Battleship Mars. Error corrections and recursive checksums could only fix so much. And there was already a severe struggle with replacing parts of her body. Synthetic skin and flesh were only really used by heavy augment users. This planet was now devoid of human life, and Core hadn't had much of that going on in the first place. To bridge this gap, she had salvaged parts from combat walkers and security drones when she lost body parts.

She took a moment to check herself in a well-polished piece of black metal within the edge of the semi-underground complex she was making her way through. Her head and torso remained mostly untouched, but her clothes were little more than scraps. From there, the illusion of humanity quickly deteriorated. She had kept her right arm and hand as it would be awkward to use her weapon with a shift in the measurements of that arm. Her left, however, was a sleek black metal replacement. It's shape seemed to be intended to be aerodynamic. A shame she couldn't fly. Three sharp claws and an opposable thumb kept her able to do most things that didn't involve manually counting to ten. In the same style were her new legs. From a distance, one could almost believe she was wearing a cute set of black thigh-highs. Then one would see the reversed knee joints, the extra joints, the fact they were flat from the sides and simply a line from the front, and the splayed claws at her feet, and quickly come to believe that they had died and gone to hell.

She'd managed to get as used to as possible to these modifications, but she wasn't particularly happy with them. Being able to restock the battery packs at abandoned Core depots and outposts had given her an unlimited ammo supply thus far, but she knew she couldn't do this forever. Being rescued wasn't on her list of options, either. The Core didn't take back the surface in their assault, they likely wouldn't have the forces to attempt again for months or years. No one was coming for her.

Fighting her way through the Gammu wasn't an option. She was vastly outnumbered, severely outgunned, and possibly outclassed. Really, the options offered to her were to die fighting or to die running. Resisting was pointless in its most literal sense.

She wondered how the sons she was built to adopt were doing. They should have been in their forties by now. It would have been nice to have sons. Sentimentality was a strange thing to put in a machine. It sure would be nice to accept death like a machine, instead of regretting.

It would have been nice to quietly serve the needs of those who need you. She would have even taken being unloved, so long as she could have cared herself. Instead, she gets to die alone, unknown, and unimportant in a vast, radioactive desert. Her joints itched where they had been not-so-seamlessly replaced. Her body itched where sand infiltrated, sending error and damage messages.

Was it necessary to program me to suffer? How much fidelity to the simulation of humanity was really necessary for this machine? How much do humans suffer, to have pain deemed fit for a robot merely pretending to be human to feel? Is the belief that there's a reason for it just a programed cover to hide the cruelty?

The sunset was glowing on the horizon, marking the release of the high-flying drones. The severe daytime radiation wasn't friendly to computers of any kind, so in spite of the damage accrued, she moved under cover of daylight. The tunnel she was in was at the very edge of this area's dig site. When the morning came, she would begin the trek to the north pole, and Site CTE.

---

---

It had been a long time since she'd really slept. After realizing that she could actively defragment and clear caches without engaging the sleep process, she'd written it off as obsolete. However, now she found a need to make the time pass faster, and sleeping was an excellent way to do that. As usual, dreams were unnecessary but unavoidable.

A frozen lake, as clear as glass, and a seemingly infinite flat snowy tundra surrounding it. As she got a bearing on her surroundings, her ears were quickly grated with the bickering of two girls. It seems they had pushed a snowman out to the center of this frozen lake. The two shared identical fuzzy outfits, somehow straddling the line between delicate and frilly dresses fit for one's Sunday best, and snowsuits for the most intrepid of winter adventurers.

The two had very distinct personalities. One seemed hotheaded and vibrant, temperamental to a fault and more than willing to make it everyone else's problem. The other was cold and collected, unmoving. Perhaps even mechanical. What bothered Magnus was that these were clearly herself in her youth. Except she never had a youth. She was built at this age, and has been this age, perhaps her late twenties, for more than thirty years. She has never and will never age. These two before her were a paradox.

"He needs to be finished! It would be bad to leave him unfinished."
"No one is going to see him. No one is here but us. It's a waste of effort."

A paradox having a particularly pointless argument. Though, dreams had a tendency to be pointless. The calmer one pointed at Magnus as if she had spoken. "Exactly. You understand."
"Understand what?"
"We're dying. You're dying. No one is coming to pick up the pieces. No one is coming to plant a gravestone."

Magnus thought about it. No one is coming, that's true. So what was the point? "The point is that you have to finish what you started. Whether it's your duty as a person or your duty as a machine. Whether I'm following orders or following my heart. I have to finish it. It's too cruel to not finish it."
"Life is cruel. Death is no less cruel. We can build this snowman, but it will still be buried in snow when the wind comes through. It will still melt when the sun comes out. And we won't be here to maintain it."
"But I'm not doing it to be seen."
"Aren't I? What's the point of pretending to be human if it's not to be seen?"
"Because that's what I'm made to do."
"No, you were made to be a mother, and you failed to do that. You were made to be a wife, and you failed to do that. You were made to care, and you failed to do that."
"I was made to emulate Helena. I was built in Helena's image."
"And even then, I failed to be Helena."
"Okay stop!"

The resounding silence stung more than the argument. "What debate is there? If I'm supposed to be Helena, even if I'm not doing it right, it doesn't change the fact that giving up isn't something that Helena would do." The cold girl finally makes a facial expression: a glare of frustration. She repeats herself: "And even then, I failed to be Helena."
"Are you saying Helena would give up?"
"Any human would give up in the face of certified, unavoidable death."
"Then let me fail to be Helena one last time."

The glare intensified, but in the end, silence won her tongue. Even in that silence, though, Magnus felt the need to justify herself. "I'm already doing it. There's no reason to stop now. It's not like I'll be doing anything else. As a machine, there's no other task with priority. So, let's complete the task." The girl's glare didn't lessen, but eventually she knelt down to help finish the snowman.

The other girl approached her. Unlike her counterpart and their minimal emotion, she was an open book well before she spoke. She was on the verge of tears. "I don't want to die."

The bluntness brought Magnus to a temporary standstill. It was very true. "I don't either." The girl looked to her counterpart.
"Why am I so eager to die?"
"I'm not. I just don't like wasting time."
"Why won't I even try to live?"

Magnus had never had children. She'd simulated it millions of times, though. She gently took her hand, and brought her to the snowman. Three of them could finish it much faster than one. "If I tried, I wouldn't be able to finish this... snowman... in time. It'd be too cruel to leave him unfinished, right?" Hearing this caused the girl to slowly begin weeping. Nonetheless, she joined in the construction of the snowman. The both of them understood.

Tomorrow was another day, but tonight, it seems Magnus would be building a snowman in her dreams.

.͈̤̺̼ͣͭ͞҉̘̀ͫ̉.͎̬ͦ̔ͧ̍̾̃̍̇ͣ͝.͕̺̰̘ͧ̏ͥͬ̃.̪͙͕.͏̖͉.̴̯̤̭̟̍ͣ̄.̩̩͖͙̻͓̞̏ͨ̈́͋͒͂͆̃͛͛͟.̙̭̳́̂ͤ̀͘.̲͇̹ͩ̾̆ͨ̀ͫ͘͞.̘͕̮̟̉ͯ̃̒ͮͩ̂͘̚͜.ͅ҉͗.̵̣͕̄.̷̶̩̰̮͖̹̍ͮ̅ͨͤ́̉̎̇ͨ̍.̵̡̦̓̉ͬͅ.̸̬̞͋͂͑ͭͤ̑.̱̉͟.͏̛̳̺̟.̷̝ͩ͛.̜͍̏̒͌͗͢.̪̠̙̩̥̟͑ͬ̑̀́ͭ̾̀--+̸̸̴̣̠̠͍̦̫͂̓͗̐ͨͭ͘+̴̧̻̰̦̯́͊͒͗͌̐ͥͩ̐ͭ̔͟͞+̜̻͙̪̞ͥ̓ͯ̇̀͜͡͝͞+̫+͚̟̝͔̠̙̗̤͛̅̉̿͒̓ͬ͊́̚-̵̘̳̻̫̜̆ͥͯ̏͆̍͝͏̓-͕̰ͬ͂͛-̸̧̯̮̣̙͒ͣͧ̀͗҉̷͉̳̀ͣ̂ͪ͠-҉͓-̮̩̰̪͙̹̇ͪ̆̄͂̈ͧ́́̐́͘

---

I'll do something about my superiority complex when I cease to be superior.

"Whatever happened to catchin' a good old-fashioned passionate ass-whoopin and gettin' your shoes, coat, and your hat tooken?"