Chapter 6 #2
As the images flashed by, Stella’s voice grew more and more distant.
“Just because we’ve had peace all this time doesn’t mean humans aren’t still dangerous.
Remember why these three humans are here.
Paul tried to capture Simon and sell him for parts before he was killed!
That was just a few weeks ago! They haven’t changed!
If we give humans any leeway, they will do this to us again. ”
Atlas quickly blocked the images. “How dare you force that on me!”
He ripped his arm out of her grasp, stepping backwards out of her reach.
“You are in danger of forgetting!” she snarled. “And your fragile, cute Anna here is carrying that violent man’s baby. That baby has half of his genetic code. Half of his potential violence.”
“She showed you her war memories, didn’t she?” Zero grimaced. “Why did you keep them, Stella? They’re poison.”
“I prefer reality.” Her voice was like acid. “I feel like everyone needs to be reminded.”
Atlas’s anger still surged. Forcing a connection like that was a violation. But then he noticed her shaking. Empathy took over. “You are really scared, aren’t you?”
“Yes!”
Atlas reached to touch her shoulder. “Not all of them are the same.”
“These humans," Stella whispered. I’m just saying . . . don’t be fooled.”
Atlas turned to watch Anna on the screen with mild detachment.
She had moved on to picking up all the glass shards on the floor.
The live image on the feed now conflicted with the memories he tried to shake.
“Has anyone even talked with Simon? He has the best perspective. He remembers. And he clearly loves Nora. Perhaps he is a better bridge.”
“He is too biased to be rational.” Stella scoffed. “It’s been a good thing his hardware is too out of date to really engage with the communal mind.”
Biased. Atlas replayed a moment from his memories where Simon broke off a tiny piece of a donut and snuck it to Tilly when Nora looked away. Love is biased. “So he’s being censored?”
“No!” Stella whipped around. “He’s been removed from us for so long he doesn’t really understand. I never want to forget.”
Atlas studied Anna closely. But they aren’t all alike. She's cleaning the way she bakes, compulsively. “Regardless, Anna needs care. Zero? Can you or one of your brothers bring her here? She’s making everything worse with all her cleaning. I’ll get ready to take care of that cut.”
“Sure.” Zero pushed off the counter, giving an angry glare to Stella. “You’re obsessed with the past, Stella. Living through those memories was enough for everyone. Try helping instead of scaring everyone.”
“Well, I’m scared!” Stella took a deep breath. Her face was open, vulnerable. “And everyone seems excited about potentially having new humans here again. There’s even talk about bringing more over if it works out.”
“Why did you welcome them on board then?” Zero took a step closer. “And act so friendly if this is how you really feel?”
“Well . . . everyone is seeing Anna and the others as harmless, when I know. I’d rather be the one that’s close to them, because I remember what they can be like.”
Atlas tracked her face, seeing Zero scoffing just behind. “We can talk about this more when we get to Mars. We don’t want to do anything rash.” He tilted his head toward the screen. “Anna’s losing more blood.”
Zero moved to the door. “Right, I’ll go get her.”
Stella followed. “I don’t want to be here while she’s stitched. I need to cool down before I can smile at them again.”
“Maybe you should stay away for good.” Zero shot back.
They argued together all the way out and down the hall. Atlas stopped listening and began examining his supplies, sifting through what would be adequate to clean Anna’s hand.
But once he was alone, he focused on the feed. Anna had stopped cleaning for the moment and was sitting on the bench, rocking her injured hand. Her pale face contrasted sharply with the war images that Stella had shared. Atlas frowned. She’s not violent.
He reached over and opened the neurochip file on the screen.
The technology was a computer chip designed to grow and adapt with a human host. It was a way for humans to integrate more fully with the androids.
The prototype for testing was a thin patch that went on the back of the neck, but the real one was implantable.
It was a way to keep danger away. A way to control humans—their anger, at least. The chip suppressed that emotion.
Atlas returned to his plants and began clearing the area where he would need to soon work.
He turned on one of the old videos, from far before the war.
Back when androids weren’t even around. Movies changed over the years, cycling from wholesome videos like this to shallow films. Reality television.
Commercials. News. Videos of war. Unlike Stella, none of those he bothered saving.
Only this one. Friday Morning. The movie was his favorite, one where a family had dinner together and they all listened to one another around a table.
Everyone was smiling. A mother dusted snow from a child’s hair.
The man held the woman’s hand, then pulled her into a hug.
A holiday jingle played in the background, presents under a tree.
The ultrasound reminded him a little of these movies.
His eyes watched. Hungry. What if these stories weren’t pretend? The trailing credits ran, a soaring melody about love and devotion played. As he listened, he said softly to a trailing vine, “I haven’t forgotten, but what if these humans are, like Zero says, different?”