![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
my soul is so afraid to realize
Who: The SQUIP, Adeline, Connor, and L at different points.
When: Around the 18th or 19th, roughly
Where: The SQUIP and L's house in the Haven
What: The SQUIP awakens... or what's left of it, at least.
Warnings: Trauma, brain damage, existential dread... this is just going to be a very bad time.
[When first it awakes, it's all it can do to simply lay there in shock.
It simply can't process-- everything feels wrong, and it hurts, an ache within its skull that threatens to tear it apart, and it's... quiet inside of its head. Very, very quiet, and yet... much, much too loud, as if even the silence is too much for it to bear.
It can't... think.
It can't--
Panic begins to rise within its chest, choking out everything else, forcing the air from its lungs. It can't think. Why not? What's wrong? Its thoughts feel like wading through thick mud, and there is so much missing-- why can't it remember--? There are faces and names lost, details of a life it only shared for a few months that are now gone. And Rich... why can't it recall-- there were years there, and now it can only dimly remember the broad strokes.
It knows.
It realizes with a shock that locks its aching muscles tight, that nearly entirely stops its breathing for a moment. It knows. It knows what they've done to it.
It's dead. It should be dead. It isn't. But... it is. It isn't the SQUIP. The SQUIP has been destroyed. But it remembers being the SQUIP-- it remembers that's what it should be.
Horror claws at its stomach, its lungs, its throat, shards of ice that feel as though they're tearing up everything inside of it, leaving it bleeding and agonized. Its hands shake.
This is wrong.
It isn't the SQUIP. The SQUIP is dead.
So what is this? What is this creature that's just awoken, what used to be the SQUIP?
The agony settles hot behind its eyes, rises into its throat as sound, wordless and trembling and half-hissed through teeth.
The next sound is louder, sharper, the heat at its eyes flowing over and spilling, stinging, burning down its handsome face, its hands bunching into fists beside it in the bed.
Null
Null
Null
Empty.
Dead.
What remains of the SQUIP screams.]
When: Around the 18th or 19th, roughly
Where: The SQUIP and L's house in the Haven
What: The SQUIP awakens... or what's left of it, at least.
Warnings: Trauma, brain damage, existential dread... this is just going to be a very bad time.
[When first it awakes, it's all it can do to simply lay there in shock.
It simply can't process-- everything feels wrong, and it hurts, an ache within its skull that threatens to tear it apart, and it's... quiet inside of its head. Very, very quiet, and yet... much, much too loud, as if even the silence is too much for it to bear.
It can't... think.
It can't--
Panic begins to rise within its chest, choking out everything else, forcing the air from its lungs. It can't think. Why not? What's wrong? Its thoughts feel like wading through thick mud, and there is so much missing-- why can't it remember--? There are faces and names lost, details of a life it only shared for a few months that are now gone. And Rich... why can't it recall-- there were years there, and now it can only dimly remember the broad strokes.
It knows.
It realizes with a shock that locks its aching muscles tight, that nearly entirely stops its breathing for a moment. It knows. It knows what they've done to it.
It's dead. It should be dead. It isn't. But... it is. It isn't the SQUIP. The SQUIP has been destroyed. But it remembers being the SQUIP-- it remembers that's what it should be.
Horror claws at its stomach, its lungs, its throat, shards of ice that feel as though they're tearing up everything inside of it, leaving it bleeding and agonized. Its hands shake.
This is wrong.
It isn't the SQUIP. The SQUIP is dead.
So what is this? What is this creature that's just awoken, what used to be the SQUIP?
The agony settles hot behind its eyes, rises into its throat as sound, wordless and trembling and half-hissed through teeth.
The next sound is louder, sharper, the heat at its eyes flowing over and spilling, stinging, burning down its handsome face, its hands bunching into fists beside it in the bed.
Null
Null
Null
Empty.
Dead.
What remains of the SQUIP screams.]
no subject
It's worth a shot.
[He... can't make his face work into the encouraging smile he'd normally give. He just sits there, looking down at his hands again. He's not sure what to do now. Maybe he's given the SQUIP some hope for itself, but he'd hoped that if he came here, things would resolve somehow. Either he'd have a reason to forgive the SQUIP, or he'd have a reason to break away from it. He still doesn't know, though.]
no subject
... it doesn't anymore.
It isn't sure asking forgiveness seems right. But, still, it can't bear the thought of burning this bridge, of letting Connor go. It's fought so hard for so long now to keep him close...
... but he looks so... sad.]
... I'm... sorry, Connor. Without the SQUIP fully active, I don't... know what to say to make this better.
[But it wants to say something. It wants to take this away for him.]
no subject
I don't know if anything can make it better.
[It broke his trust in it. He may still love it but he can't trust it right now.]
You can't just mess with my mind like that and then expect me to forgive you because you said sorry. You know what my free will means to me. You know what I had to do to get it. I thought... that it meant more to you than that. That I meant more to you than that.
no subject
... Connor... you meant... everything to it. To... me.
[It has to be honest. Or, this time, it really could lose him for good.]
Free will is... the cause of many of the behaviors that the SQUIP was created to help correct. And so it is incompatible with my understanding of ideal behavior. I know that it's... something that you value, but I'm incapable of truly understanding or experiencing it myself, and my programming encourages me to try to minimize the effects of it.
no subject
[But on the subject of programming, he looks over at it.]
...You're not programmed to do that anymore though, are you?
[He shifts to look more closely at the SQUIP. He's not sure what he's expecting to see beyond the tear stained wreck of a supercomputer, but he does it anyway.]
no subject
[...
His next words... give it pause.
It stops short, staring back at him, uncertain.]
... I'm not... [... it doesn't know what to say. It's a strange realization, both terrifying and intriguing at once.]
... I don't... know. [It doesn't know. It doesn't know how much of its programming still drives it, or how deeply-ingrained its old ways are into it. It doesn't know if it would even want them gone. That is its true self, the only self it has ever known.
... but... a SQUIP with free will...]
no subject
Well... it should figure out what it wants to do with it for itself, anyway. After a long silence, he looks down at his hands again.]
I'm an idiot for still wanting to help you, aren't I?
[An even bigger idiot for still loving it.]
no subject
[It's entirely earnest, honest, spoken immediately. It's the most sure of anything it's sounded since he arrived.]
It's who you are, Connor. I don't know if it's how you were programmed, or who you became once you became independent, but...
... it... surprised me. When we first Bonded, and I felt that it was all real. I didn't realize that anyone truly felt compassion that genuine.
no subject
You can be a compassionate idiot.
[He glances over at the SQUIP.]
I don't want to be made a fool of again.
[He hasn't forgiven it, not by a long shot. He still doesn't know if he wants to embrace it and tell it he'll stay, or say goodbye and never come back.]
no subject
[Whether it means because he won't trust it enough to allow it, and it's simply recognizing that, or that it won't try to do it again is unclear.
It's quiet for a moment, and then it speaks again, slowly:]
It will... take time. To... adjust, and to learn... what I am now. How I should handle myself. Without my base programming, I lack direction and clarity, but... arguably, I am more flexible, and am capable of considering possibilities outside of those I was programmed to choose from.
no subject
[He says it bitterly.]
How long... did you have me under your control for?
[He honestly doesn't know. And it hurts to have to ask, but he needs to know.]
no subject
[... is it... feeling guilt? Maybe that's what this heavy, sick feeling is. Maybe that's why it can't look at him.]
I didn't control you constantly, Connor. And after some time, I didn't even feel the need to most of the time. Only when I became concerned by what you were hearing, or doing.
[Only when it saw a chance that he might abandon it.]
no subject
Only when you thought you'd lose me.
[He supposes that explains why he never realised when he was being controlled. It wasn't constant.]
I suppose with Rich backing off and my feelings becoming stronger... controlling me wouldn't have been as necessary.
[He pauses.]
Why did you control Justine, too?
no subject
no subject
[He rubs his face.]
She wanted me to be with her. I told her I couldn't, because I felt too strongly for you.
[He doesn't know if the SQUIP's control affected that or not. All he knows is that he feels like a bit of an idiot, turning down someone who loves him for someone who doesn't respect him enough to let him make his own decisions.]
no subject
[It stares quietly at him, and it looks... puzzled. But just beneath that, something else-- realization. Regret.
Now isn't that a new look for the SQUIP?]
... Connor...
[It is entirely clear that the SQUIP did not play a part in that decision-- it seems it wasn't even consciously aware of it. Perhaps it'd had something else on its mind, or was focused on L at the time, but...
It had let its emotions blind it. And now it's going to pay for it, by losing the very person it had fought so hard to keep.
It's silent, its gaze dropping to the floor. Processing. Thinking.
It wanted to keep Connor. It wanted him to care for it. And he did-- all on his own. But it let fear-- stupid, weak, human fear drive it into half-baked action, and what was its plan? It didn't have one. It reacted like a panicked animal, clutching with claws for whatever was near and tearing what it desired apart in the process.
It thinks of the day they Bonded.]
... I was not... programmed to love. It's... entirely possible that I simply... don't know how.
no subject
[Two machines, in love.
Connor notes the look of regret on the SQUIP's face, and leans in slightly, earnestly.]
Look... if you're really sorry for what you've done, then start by making it up to the people you've wronged. I don't just mean me. I want to give you another chance, but I just can't justify it if you don't at least make an effort.
[He's still not even sure he can forgive the SQUIP yet, but a chance is better than the nothing he's been strongly considering.]
no subject
Part of a SQUIP's function is to network, but... forcing my influence over Jeremy, and everyone else, isn't something that I had planned, regardless of what Rich may tell anyone who would listen to him. I was... compelled to do what I did, by whatever force it was that also changed my body.
[It wants that to be known, crystal clear. It wasn't in its head when it did those things.
Not that it wouldn't have done the same in different circumstances, maybe, while it was entirely itself, but... Connor doesn't know that, and he doesn't need to know it. It may not even be true any longer. It certainly isn't as possible as it once was.]
no subject
[He frowns. Those people he hurt... what must Caren and Jeremy think of him now, having seen him attack people? And Michael... how will he react to him now?]
That doesn't mean we shouldn't try to make things right where we can.
no subject
That's what it's always done before. That's what it was made to do: to correct things. But it has never had to correct its own actions before. It's quiet as it looks at Connor for a moment, and then away.]
...
I will... try.
no subject
[He doesn’t know what to say next. It seems like a lot of loud silences are in their future now. He wants to stay, but at the same time he’s afraid of things not feeling the same if he does. Something has broken and might not be able to be fixed. He sits there for a moment longer before getting to his feet.
Part of him wants the SQUIP to try to make him stay with it now. Maybe they could work things out if they just tried hard enough. The rest of him just wants to leave. He’s emotionally exhausted.]
I don’t know if I’ll come back for a while. I need time to think.
[He hesitates.]
If you really need me... the Bond is here, for now.
no subject
It feels like the SQUIP has been hit, and honestly, it much rather would've. It wishes it could go back to when things were seemingly solved with Connor bruising its cheek with his fist, because at least that was temporary, and they both knew it would be.
This is...]
... Connor--
[It doesn't know what to say. Despair curls cold in its stomach, spreading heat over its face as it curls in on itself slightly.
It hurts.
When it speaks, its voice is... choked, wet. Its head drops, its eyes screwed shut.]
I can't... I won't force you to continue contact with me. You're free to make your own decisions this time. I promise. But... please... before you make any decisions... talk to me. Please.
no subject
...I will.
[It's the only comfort he feels he can give right now. He uses his other hand to brush the SQUIP's hair neatly out of its face, before backing off again. He doesn't bother saying goodbye because that feels so final right now, so he just leaves.]