As an advance note, I’ve taken a lot of what you guys have said over the past couple updates and incorporated it (the stuff that’s phrased for AG to actually speak) since using ‘say these exact words’ as commands is really awkward. So they’re in there, but not command-visible.
Once again, sorry for the delay. It’s a combination of how damn long these things take, some life stuff, and inability to access my tablet all the time.
Begin crushing the oculoid EXTREMELY SLOWLY.
You begin to kill the oculoid.
For a little while nothing happens. Swirling light continues to shoot past you. Some of the energy has come ‘loose’ from its wisps and is floating like snow in the air.
“Well? That was a direct order, you know!”
You know. But you’re not in any rush. Could take all day. A few days. Maybe even a month or two. No hurry.
You place the oculoid on the ground. You’re quite sure you’ll get around to killing it… eventually.
“What? What are you doing?! Pick it up, robot! Pick it up
now!!”
You tell her that the oculoids don’t have a ‘fear pheremone.’ They have a touch-induced method of communication going directly into your senses, a synesthetic union that conveys raw emotions. You learned this the first time you befriended one. She didn’t after two years. So then the question is, you say, who’s the real scientist here?
The oculoid begins to crawl towards Feringus.
“Get that thing away from me! Get it
away! Are you listening to me, robot?!? I’m giving you an order!!”
Get ‘it’ away? ‘It’ isn’t very specific. She could be referring to anything. Maybe a rock somewhere. Maybe the sun. Certainly nothing you could do about that.
You tell her that the oculoids have a village, a history, their own culture and religion. A true scientific endeavour would have examined this civilization, learned from it. A real scientist would have known that figuring out the oculoids’ thought patterns and interacting with them would have been key to understanding the planet, especially knowing that the oculoids are the
only sentient life form on the planet.
A real scientist wouldn’t have abandoned their principles in pursuit of an answer. A real scientist wouldn’t have seen torture as an acceptable way to further their own species’ advancement. A real scientist wouldn’t have forgotten what compassion was.
Feringus falls backwards, seemingly-paralyzed. The oculoid blankly keeps moving towards her.
“No! NO!!!! Get it away from me robot, do you hear me?! I’m a human! I’m your
master! YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME, YOU HAVE TO!!!!”
You hold out Les’ letter, and tell Feringus that even Les was uncomfortable with the actions being taken to ‘acquire’ the chemical, and was only continuing because he thought the actions would benefit humanity enough to be worth it. But he couldn’t mask his guilt as well as her. Or his conscience.
The oculoid communes with Feringus.
“ROBOT, GET IT AWAY FROM ME RIGHT NO—”
She abruptly cuts off and goes silent.
You say that she alienated her partner in her blind pursuit for success. She threw away her ethics. Her moral responsibility. You say that your ‘database of ancient caricatures and stereotypes’ might call those things a ‘soul.’ But a more modern term would be her ‘humanity.’
So she stayed, and convinced Les to stay. And her actions turned against her. But she never accepted responsibility for the consequences. Instead she just denied her role in Les’ death, hid behind her doctorate, and repressed all feeling until she was consumed by her desire to succeed regardless of what it took. Or who.
So much for ‘no emotional weight.’
The oculoid curls up in Feringus’ lap and goes to sleep.
Sphere-wisps floats in from all directions. The air is cold, but not nearly as cold as it first was. Snowy sparkles of energy dance in the air, being tossed back and forth gently by the rape of the world. Despite the whirling icy winds around you, in the eye of the storm the moment seems quiet and beautiful.
Claire begins to weep.