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ginbeanNotes: Where the hell did this come from? oAo
He thinks about it sometimes.
He thinks about being smart.
About being whole.
Given who he is, it's only natural. Of all the A.I.s he remembers, Sigma is indeed among them and sometimes his voice unexpectedly surges forward, demanding he be known. He would never admit as much, but sometimes he has trouble remembering who he is. Sometimes he thinks his name is Delta and sometimes he thinks it's Washington.
Sometimes he thinks his name is Alpha.
It's embarrassing, certainly, but not overly troubling. Not when his memory fluctuates and eventually the voices must leave again.
The first time he mistakenly thinks of himself as the Alpha, he's shocked and a little bit apprehensive. Could this be a good thing? Is it alright to take the Alpha's place, now that the rest of them are gone and he is their living memoir? He's not too fond of that train of thought. It's a duty, one forced upon him, but he's never much liked living for someone else. This is his existence.
But could he be the Alpha?
He thinks about it.
---
He's still thinking about it. It's bothering him more and more these days, to the point that he can't keep the thoughts from Carolina. She's growing aware of his identity crisis but she's said little on the subject. Because she's not worried? Or because she knows it takes time to sort out who you are when you've got multiple voices talking inside your brain? How long did it take for her to recover? He's afraid to ask because humans rebound so much more quickly than A.I.s, whatever anyone else might say.
Washington picked up the pieces of himself and threw them back together, making them work. Carolina found herself out of the myriad through sheer force of will, demanding that her mind start functioning again.
But the Alpha never recovered.
Is he the Alpha?
---
"Alpha?" She tries the name on a whim, if only because she's tried calling him by all his other names for an hour now and none of them have worked. He's inside her mind somewhere, she knows that, but he's barely tangible. A quiet wisp resolutely ignoring all her attempts to come into contact with him. He's shut her out inside her own mind and she hates that feeling. It's almost like she's the one who drowned him out.
She knows what it feels like to be drowned out.
When the silence continues, her frustration peaks to the point of boiling over. And then...
"I'm not the Alpha." She breathes a sigh of relief.
"It's the only name I had left." Carolina replies, struggling not to let him know how worried she was and knowing it's futile when he's inside her mind. "What were you doing?"
"Thinking." A pause. "Searching." Another pause. "I dunno know to explain it." He adds then, sounding annoyed. Annoyed but confident, arrogant even.
Normal.
"Have you figured things out?" She asks then, settling back into the shade of the wall that is their temporary home and finally feeling comfortable again. It's odd to have one part of your mind out of sorts. It takes him a moment to answer, a moment to word it precisely as he wants to. And in that moment, Carolina can feel his thought process as though it were her own. A train of thought starting from her father and his obsession, to the Alpha and his inability to stop chasing a part of him that he inherited from her father. A line that leads to Epsilon and his ability... to let go.
"I'm a fragment." He begins quietly, knowing she's reading this thoughts and not feeling odd about it. They're too close now, closer than anyone else. Closer than the Director or Wash... one completely synchronized unit. "I never had... everything. His memories, sure, but not the heart that came with them. Maybe that's why, even though I loved her, I could let go. Because I'm only a piece of everything that made up his fixation."
When Carolina stays quiet, feeling that familiar dull throb in her chest that comes when she thinks about her parents, where she came from, he keeps talking.
"And because of that? I'm better than him. Than the both of them."
"So you finally figured things out." Carolina remarks then, answering her own question. She can already feel his confidence again, swelling up in the back of her head. A comfortingly familiar surge of pride that is sure to irritate her in the future. She can't admit she's glad for it.
"Yeah."
"Then let's get back to work, Epsilon." She doesn't have anymore questions for him, doesn't have to ask. She understands all to well what it's like to come from one thing, to want to be like another and to become something completely different from both.
Isn't that the story of their life?
He thinks about it sometimes.
He thinks about being smart.
About being whole.
Given who he is, it's only natural. Of all the A.I.s he remembers, Sigma is indeed among them and sometimes his voice unexpectedly surges forward, demanding he be known. He would never admit as much, but sometimes he has trouble remembering who he is. Sometimes he thinks his name is Delta and sometimes he thinks it's Washington.
Sometimes he thinks his name is Alpha.
It's embarrassing, certainly, but not overly troubling. Not when his memory fluctuates and eventually the voices must leave again.
The first time he mistakenly thinks of himself as the Alpha, he's shocked and a little bit apprehensive. Could this be a good thing? Is it alright to take the Alpha's place, now that the rest of them are gone and he is their living memoir? He's not too fond of that train of thought. It's a duty, one forced upon him, but he's never much liked living for someone else. This is his existence.
But could he be the Alpha?
He thinks about it.
---
He's still thinking about it. It's bothering him more and more these days, to the point that he can't keep the thoughts from Carolina. She's growing aware of his identity crisis but she's said little on the subject. Because she's not worried? Or because she knows it takes time to sort out who you are when you've got multiple voices talking inside your brain? How long did it take for her to recover? He's afraid to ask because humans rebound so much more quickly than A.I.s, whatever anyone else might say.
Washington picked up the pieces of himself and threw them back together, making them work. Carolina found herself out of the myriad through sheer force of will, demanding that her mind start functioning again.
But the Alpha never recovered.
Is he the Alpha?
---
"Alpha?" She tries the name on a whim, if only because she's tried calling him by all his other names for an hour now and none of them have worked. He's inside her mind somewhere, she knows that, but he's barely tangible. A quiet wisp resolutely ignoring all her attempts to come into contact with him. He's shut her out inside her own mind and she hates that feeling. It's almost like she's the one who drowned him out.
She knows what it feels like to be drowned out.
When the silence continues, her frustration peaks to the point of boiling over. And then...
"I'm not the Alpha." She breathes a sigh of relief.
"It's the only name I had left." Carolina replies, struggling not to let him know how worried she was and knowing it's futile when he's inside her mind. "What were you doing?"
"Thinking." A pause. "Searching." Another pause. "I dunno know to explain it." He adds then, sounding annoyed. Annoyed but confident, arrogant even.
Normal.
"Have you figured things out?" She asks then, settling back into the shade of the wall that is their temporary home and finally feeling comfortable again. It's odd to have one part of your mind out of sorts. It takes him a moment to answer, a moment to word it precisely as he wants to. And in that moment, Carolina can feel his thought process as though it were her own. A train of thought starting from her father and his obsession, to the Alpha and his inability to stop chasing a part of him that he inherited from her father. A line that leads to Epsilon and his ability... to let go.
"I'm a fragment." He begins quietly, knowing she's reading this thoughts and not feeling odd about it. They're too close now, closer than anyone else. Closer than the Director or Wash... one completely synchronized unit. "I never had... everything. His memories, sure, but not the heart that came with them. Maybe that's why, even though I loved her, I could let go. Because I'm only a piece of everything that made up his fixation."
When Carolina stays quiet, feeling that familiar dull throb in her chest that comes when she thinks about her parents, where she came from, he keeps talking.
"And because of that? I'm better than him. Than the both of them."
"So you finally figured things out." Carolina remarks then, answering her own question. She can already feel his confidence again, swelling up in the back of her head. A comfortingly familiar surge of pride that is sure to irritate her in the future. She can't admit she's glad for it.
"Yeah."
"Then let's get back to work, Epsilon." She doesn't have anymore questions for him, doesn't have to ask. She understands all to well what it's like to come from one thing, to want to be like another and to become something completely different from both.
Isn't that the story of their life?