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Before I hacked my governor module, my memory was… semi-regularly wiped and/or altered. I knew that the incident at RaviHyral could not possibly have been the only horrible thing I was made to forget or the only crime that had been stolen from my mind, but I had resigned myself to never knowing exactly what made up the time before I was free. I figured it was all lost, that even my organic parts were incapable of remembering anything terrible that might have happened so long ago, so I did not trouble myself with it. It was irrelevant.
It was no longer irrelevant.
It would seem that my organic parts were slightly more human than I had assumed, in that they experienced trauma responses. Specifically, the trauma response of locking something away deep in your subconscious and forgetting about it. Overall, fairly decent trauma response in my opinion. Can’t hurt you if you don’t remember it happening (I know that is what happened with the whole RaviHyral situation but that was different because I kind of did remember. If you totally seamlessly forget, then… how could it hurt?) (Oh wait. This is how).
The issue is when you no longer forget. When you remember, I guess, if we’re being technical. I remembered. I wish I hadn’t.
ART and I were watching a new serial while I sat in the argument lounge with Amena, decidedly not arguing. She was working on something for Dr. Mensah, I wasn’t sure what, I hadn’t asked and she hadn’t offered. Sometimes humans enjoyed simply sitting in the presence of others without talking, and it hadn’t bothered me much when she came and sat beside me, so I had stayed.
I had noticed that it was getting late, relatively, for Amena to still be awake, but from what ART had told me, adolescent humans had a somewhat tumultuous sleep schedule. She would go to bed when she felt like it, so I was letting myself focus on the serial.
But then Amena’s head landed on my shoulder. Her hair brushed my neck, I could feel the warmth of her through my shirt. I froze. In her sleep, as that is what it must have been, Amena nuzzled slightly into me.
—
They were warm. Humans were always so warm. I could feel them, their hand on my back, the other on my thigh. A mix of organic and non-organic parts, the sensation different but suffocating all the same. I had been wearing my shirt. The long sleeve I wore under armour. I was not wearing it anymore. Their hands were on me, on my skin, on my sensors. They lay their cheek on my shoulder, their hair brushed my neck. The hand on my thigh inched up.
They said something. They said- they said-
Their palm lay flat in the center of my back, pressing lightly, sliding across my shoulder blade. Their skin got stuck on mine, a bit, as their hand travelled to its intended destination, to my side. They… caressed my hip, gripping it gently, oh so warm. The other hand inched higher. They turned their face, lips pressed to the same shoulder their cheek had just been touching.
“Remember,” they said, “don’t move.” I felt their lips form the words.
I couldn’t move. I already couldn’t move. They had said at the beginning. They had told me to stay where I was, to not move. I had tried. I had tried. The governor module gave no wiggle room on an order like that. I had tried.
They had not released me to move at all. They had cut the shirt off of me. Right. It lay on the floor in front of us.
Their lips moved on my shoulder. A… a kiss. They kissed my shoulder. Their hand gripped my hip and pulled me into them. The hand on my thigh moved.
I do not have genitals. They knew this. They had to know this. I could not move. They had to know. Did they not know?
They felt around. They rubbed. They reached into my pants, trailed a finger along me. There is nothing there. Still, they touched.
I felt more than heard them hum against my shoulder.
And then they let go. They sat up, hands coming off. They turned their head to look at my profile. I stared straight ahead and did not move. I did not move. I held my breath.
They reached towards me again. A finger circled the data port on the back of my neck and then brushed its way up through my regulation-length hair, the other fingers joining in, nails trailing along my scalp. I could not move. I did not move. Their other hand ran across the panels on my chest, tracing the logo on my breast. My breath remained even. I did not move.
They spoke again. I do not know what they said.
And then they were on top of me. I could not move.
They sat, one leg between mine, atop my thigh. One hand on my head, curled into my hair with what little grip it seemed they could get. The other between their legs. They leaned forwards, hunched over, forehead on my shoulder. Hair brushing against my neck once more.
They were so warm. I could feel it, sense it, everywhere they touched me, pressed against me.
They moved.
I did not move. I stared straight ahead.
They were making sounds. I felt their breath, humid in the crook of my neck. The hand in my hair fell, grabbing onto my other shoulder. I did not move. I could not move.
I… I could move.
It would end, if I moved.
They had ordered me still more than once. I had tried to move already, after the first order, just to twitch. The governor module hadn’t been happy.
I could move and it would end.
I could-
They moaned, twitched. Stilled. They breathed heavily into my neck, the arm on my shoulder going lax. They pulled away, looked at me. I looked straight ahead.
They stood up.
“That was nice,” they said. “You can move when you need to. Sorry about your shirt, I guess.”
They left. I was required to move, to get a new shirt, so that I could be ready if I was needed. I needed to move.
I twitched my fingers. The governor module did not care. I went to get a shirt.
—
ART pinged me in the feed. I had… I had stopped the serial, at some point. ART had pinged me multiple times in the past… I ran back the clock. It had been an entire minute. ART was attempting to run my diagnostics. I pinged ART back, but I… I felt stuck. I felt like I couldn’t move, trapped in my body again. I didn’t know what to say.
What happened? Said ART in the feed. Are you okay?
I didn’t think I was, but I also could not pinpoint anything in specific that was necessarily wrong. Either way, I couldn’t seem to reply.
“Amena, wake up.” That was ART, from its speakers this time, slightly louder than normal. Amena jolted awake, head coming off my shoulder, though she remained slightly too close for comfort. She looked around the room with wild eyes, searching for a threat or what could have woken her even as she retained a vaguely dazed expression of partial sleep.
“Huh? Wassup? What’s going on?”
“I am unsure. I apologise for waking you, you had only just drifted off, but something is wrong with SecUnit. It is not responding to me.” It was speaking as if I wasn't there. Maybe I wasn’t. I didn’t really feel like I was, anymore. I knew where I was, but maybe I didn’t. What did I really know at all?
Amena rubbed her eyes and turned to look at me questioningly. I wanted to hide, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t.
“SecUnit? Are you okay? You look… you look like, really pale.” I looked at myself in the cameras. I did look remarkably pale. Strange. I didn’t know it was possible for me to pale in this way, without loss of fluids. “Peri, do you know what was happening right before SecUnit went… uh… Blank? Like, if anything changed?”
Had anything changed? No, nothing had changed. Everything was the same. I was the same. I had not known, but it had happened, even when I didn’t remember, it had still happened. Nothing at all had changed. So what if I possibly had a larger reason for not liking touch than what I’d assumed? Nothing really changed. I was not different. I was not changed. I just knew more, now. All that happened was I remembered.
But if I was not changed, if nothing was different, why the hell did I feel like this? Why did I feel so unsteady, so undone? Why did I feel like the whole world had changed, like I was seeing everything underwater? Why did I feel so cold?
“You fell asleep and went slightly limp, you lost the ability to hold yourself upright. Your body tilted and you landed on SecUnit’s shoulder. Nothing was happening in WorldHoppers that might have caused this reaction, and that is the only other thing that could have been the cause, from my observations.”
Amena blinked, seeming to be processing what ART had said. And then her eyes went wide and she jumped up from the couch, putting a good meter between her and me. I felt a bit like my skin was buzzing. I could no longer feel the warmth emanating from her skin. I breathed.
“Sorry, SecUnit. I didn’t mean to. I know you don’t like touching. I’m sorry.” Her eyebrows were furrowed, and she was worrying the fabric of her sweater between her fingers. Her gaze flipped between me and the ceiling, as if looking to ART for help. ART pinged me again.
I attempted to stand up, but my legs gave out and I fell back to the couch. Amena looked worried. I tried again, and this time was successful. I turned my head away from her so she could not see my face. “It is fine.”
I walked towards the door. I wanted to go to my room. Amena moved further out of the way, though she was not in the way in the first place. ART opened the door, and pinged me again. It felt gentle, somehow.
I am fine, I told it.
It nudged the episode of WorldHoppers into my feed like an offering.
Not right now. We can continue the episode later, or you can watch it without me if you want.
You know that it is much better to watch with you, ART returned. It tended to fill the feed nearly oppressively when we were hanging out. That oppressive feeling was weirdly absent, right now. It felt as if it was standing in the doorway rather than draped across my back, like usual. I both hated and appreciated the distance.
Yeah. Yeah, I know, I said.
I arrived at my room and immediately grabbed my favourite blanket, wrapped myself in it and curled up on my bed, head to my knees, face hidden from everyone including ART. We’ll finish it later, then, okay?
ART pinged an acknowledgement, and I felt it retreat from my mind. I was alone, in my room and in my head. I hoped that ART would go and speak to Amena, so that she’d know it wasn’t her fault. Because it wasn’t her fault. It was just… coincidence. Happenstance. Chance, an accident, bad luck. She didn’t do anything wrong and certainly not on purpose. Certainly not intentionally.
She apologised. She accidentally fell asleep on my shoulder and apologised. Said sorry for touching me. It was not her fault.
I think that if I could cry, there would be tears rolling down my cheeks. I was tempted to sob, even without the tears.
Safe in my room, with my blanket, aboard ART, and under the control of no one but myself, I closed my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I initiated a shutdown sequence. Maybe I’d feel better in a few hours.