Such tired. Much school. XP
Enjoy Chapter Four, everybody!
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Mark's POV
It was just a job, really. I'd sit in a rolling chair every day and watch her on a screen. It was my job. She was an assignment, and I had made her into something more. I suppose, over the last year, I might have fallen a bit in love with her. She was a welcome change from the cold metal doors and thick padded walls. Y/N was the first real colors I had ever seen in this place. I could remember colors; seasons; people and places buried deep in my software, encoded into my motherboard. Sometimes, just before they'd shut me down at night, I would ask them where they had found me.
"I came from somewhere," I said. "Who created me?" But they wouldn't tell me. They couldn't, by order of a higher authority. So they left me in my room, the lights off, the doors locked. And I would watch that bright screen and take notes, like the dutiful little engine I was. They wouldn't tell me why I had to observe people, either - usually I was stuck watching older men lead their outside lives. Then, after a few weeks of carefully noting where they went and who with, I would be given another assignment. I don't know what happens to the people I used to observe. I didn't want to think about it.
Y/N was pretty much like everyone else; she had a job and an apartment in which she lived and friends that she sometimes hung out with. She was, admittedly, a bit plain. But, slowly, something began to happen to me. I don't know where the nagging feeling in my chest came from - I had been told for so long that I was incapable of such things as emotions. That was why they sometimes allowed me to wander the facility without armed guards following behind - without emotion, I had no motivation to do anything I wasn't told to do. The men in the stark white coats told me time and time again that I was more machine than man, and that I would always be treated as such. Once, during a routine evaluation, I mentioned to the doctor that I truly felt that I wasn't just a automaton.
"I am a man." My voice sounded painfully monotone, even to my own ears. "I would like to be thought of as such." Please, I added in my head. In return for this honest confession, they rebooted my systems. For weeks I struggled to regain what I felt was the remainder of my humanity. After that incident, I didn't speak of my feelings. I began to experiment with my resources, to see if I couldn't find the truth on my own. Deep within my programming was the key to my freedom - if I plugged myself into a computer's USB outlet, I could sneak my way around any blocks on the server to seek out even the most classified information.
It was late one evening, long past lights-out, when I finally managed to find my file. There, under the ominous label "SCP-694", I recovered some of my past. Before that time, I had never been addressed as anything other than "Six-nine-four". However, as I began to scroll through the countless lines of redacted information, I found that my name - my real, given name - was Mark. I tested the name several times out loud, and it felt good in my mouth. It felt right. The place where I had been found was covered up with the rest of my name, but by then it almost didn't matter. I had a name, and I had already downloaded pretty much the entire SCP database into my memory. So when a small army of guards came barreling into my cell, I only smiled smugly. For the first time, I had an advantage.
They took me to a tiny room that was cloaked in thick, stifling darkness. It was meant to secure the anonymity of the interrogator - they didn't know that I had excellent night vision. The interrogator was an older man by the name of Russo. He was a gruff, generic New York cop that the SCP Foundation had picked up after he insisted on getting involved in a containment operation. I knew his social security number. I knew where he used to live.
I knew that he hadn't been allowed to see or hear from his family since joining the agency.
"You must understand," Russo said, trying hard to sound trustworthy and calm. "We don't appreciate snooping here at SCP. We've received reading from our equipment that indicate that you've been...interacting with your current subject whilst in sleep mode." There was the squeak of a chair being moved forward. "We're interested to know how you're doing that."
"Telepathy," I responded plainly. I sat back. "How's the wife, Carl?" There was a beat of silence from across the table. I made a point not to look at Russo directly, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see him tense.
Russo quickly collected himself. "She's fine," he said. "When did you realize you had telepathic abilities?"
"It was an accident at first. I had never done it before. I don't know how it works exactly." I folded my arms casually. "Why am I monitoring her, anyway? No, wait, don't tell me - that's classified." I grinned upon seeing Russo's frustration build. "Yes, I know."
"Something's changed about you." Russo spoke barely above a whisper.
I turned to face him slowly, and even in the total darkness, he flinched. "Yes, something has changed Carl," I said softly. "Would you like to know what it is?" I took his silence as an answer. "I've learned things. So many things - about myself, about this place that I've been rotting in for so long."
"Accidental downloads," Russo tried to argue.
I shook my head. "No, Carl. Completely on purpose."
"We can reboot your systems." Russo said. His voice never wavered. "A new memory card is all it would take."
"Are you really that stupid?" I smiled devilishly. "You aren't going to shut me down. I am going to leave this facility." I allowed a beat to pass by, so Russo could take the information in. In those breathless moments, I felt something quivering in my chest and stomach; something I couldn't name. It felt so bad yet so good that it forced a dry laugh from my throat. Heat began to build behind my eyes; a now familiar sensation that told me that I was gaining control over Russo's mind. The darkness began to give way to the subtle red glow of my pupils. "You know, I hadn't finished reading my file before I was interrupted. I'm curious to see what else I can find."
"Everything will be gone before you tell anyone. It will have all been destroyed." Russo was clutching at straws. I couldn't let him know that I was, too; what was I supposed to do if they knew that I had warned Y/N? She was a much greater threat to these people than I was. Somehow, she knew things that were impossible for outsiders to know. And, somehow, I could only create a complete telepathic with her.
Thankfully, my abilities were enough to cause Russo some mild discomfort. "What will you do, once you're out there?" he demanded to know as blood dribbled from his nose. "You think that anyone will accept you once they know what you are?"
"Of course they won't," I said, and my voice grew soft. My chest tightened painfully. "They'll be terrified of me. They'll think I'm a monster."
Russo allowed his guard to slip, and a mania filled his features. "Exactly," he hissed, his straight teeth stained pink. "So what's your plan, six-nine-four? You thought you could just walk away from this place? You thought you could just dump decades' worth of sensitive information on the public and - POOF! Everything would be fixed?" Russo laughed, and if I had real guts in my body, they would have turned to ice from the sound of it. "You've been in here so long that you've forgotten."
I narrowed my eyes and tried to keep cool. "Forgotten what?"
"They're animals," Russo teased in a high-pitched voice. He was leaning severely over the table, his breath hot on my skin."Humans...are...animals, six-nine-four!"
"That is not my name," I ground out, fiercely.
"Doesn't matter," Russo went on. "The man you were before is gone. Dead. No more. You'll drive yourself mad trying to find him." I shot a sharp pulse of energy through Russo's mind. His subsequent screams brought guards to the sealed door. "No, no," Russo said when they demanded entry. "This's just getting good." He turned back to me. "My wife has been dead for seven years, y'know," he went on as if we hadn't been interrupted.
I didn't know where he was going with sudden change of topic. "Yes, I do know." I spoke carefully.
"Did you happen to see how she died?" Russo seemed to be egging me on.
I cautiously scanned back through my memory. "It was an accidental death," I said slowly, reading off the words in my head. "You were on vacation and she fell."
Russo snorted. "Yeah, that's what they wrote down alright. S'not true though." Russo raised his eyes from the table, and in them was madness the likes of which I had never seen. "I pushed Marie off that cliff. Don't ask me why, I don't quite know myself. Something I'd seen a long time ago crept up on me, I suppose." He paused a moment, remembering. "I regretted it for a long time. Killing her. I loved Marie. She was the light of my life. She helped me through some dark times. I wish I could remember why I did that to her."
I tried to dig further, into Russo's memories, but I couldn't get through. "I am...so sorry."
The reverie that had taken hold of Russo instantly shattered. "Too late now, I guess," he shrugged indifferently. "We've all had our little hiccups, haven't we?"
"Yes," I said quietly. I began to release my grip on Russo's mind. My body ached from staying tense for so long.
"Well, you might as well get ready," Russo said, suddenly bubbly.
I frowned. "What?"
"You want to see the outside so badly? Fine then, you can go." His expression faded into something much more sinister. "But if you interfere with the subject in anyway - you'll be dismembered so fast you won't even know that you've been switched off. Is that clear?"
I bit back a retort. "Perfectly."
The crazed smile came back. "Good. Why don't you go ahead and get packed up, hm? The doors will be unsealed shortly."
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That was over a week ago. Time works so differently here on the outside. Things flow from one moment to the next, instead of occasionally skipping forward or back. It is dark, but there are stars and a fat moon hanging in the sky. Everything has been so much more beautiful and dangerous than anything I could have ever imagined. I've found her now, and I stand back in the shadows, watching as always. She's crying and the rain is coming down so hard that it makes it difficult to see. I hadn't meant to scare her earlier; I thought she might have liked some more information about the situation, and, besides, I was hungry. I only got away with a banana before she came too close to seeing me, however, and now I'm famished again. Hunger is one way that I remind myself that I am human. It's gnawing and constant, something to hold onto as I sit here, shivering.
Eventually, however, the stabbing pain in my belly gets to be too much, and I climb back up the fire escape. She's probably going to be there for a bit, I think. I'll just throw a sandwich together and hop back out. Her home is warm and dry and after a few minutes of careful sandwich-building, I'm starting to yawn. I haven't slept much on this journey so far, and a cat nap doesn't sound so bad. I drink some water and take a calming breath before biting into the sandwich.
The door opens, so quietly that I don't hear it.
When I turn around, a bit of salami sticking out of my mouth, I see Y/N there. She's just staring.
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Sorry if this chapter seems a little rushed. I wanted to finish it while I had the time, before my week got too crazy and the hiatus was extended even further. Things are moving right along now! I'm still working out some details, so make sure you keep the feedback coming! :)
Love and hugs to everyone!
~LMA