Death

[Seven]
We're only a few months old. We hardly built any form of value. Nothing that will justify the maintenance of my crushed body. So then why... why is this bitch standing between the superior and me, risking her life for me?

"Sir, the average success rate has plateaued. There are a couple units total pushing it forward" She says.
Crap! I'm starting to lose my vision! I can't see what she's showing him, but I can tell she's trying to bait him. And I can't scream no matter how hard I try. Did not expect a suicidal moron to face HQ on my behalf. I would've been more careful with defense, at least enough to keep my chest and the airways in it.

"Which units?" He leans into her screen.
Stop! You have to stop. You're not allowed to interfere. And if they find out, they only have one lethal penalty!

"Units No. 07 and No. 11," she's pointing somewhere, it's too blurry but looks like Eleven. "He's a late bloomer. He started below average, but is surpassing No.09"
"Hold on, who is this?"
He's pointing at a long line between the stats. One she framed clearly in the middle, that it survived my vision.
Well played, Ms.Recon. Well played.
"Unit No.07, Sir. The female Assault unit behind me "

It takes him a single glance to say what I expected him to say.
"Hmm. That's a lot of damage. The repair will cost more resources than producing a chassis"
"Are you interested in her data, sir?"
"There is potential. Her rate is nearly double the average"
That's because I was too pissed off with zero fucks left to give! Does the system reward madness? it certainly is madness inducing. And she's the only reason I haven't self destructed yet.
He's eyeing me up and whatever's left of down. She is doing the same, albeit slower. She's trying to feign indifference, but she turned to see me the moment he gave her the chance. She's facing me enough to see the insignia on her jacket. '05'. And that is fading into blur too.
That number scares me as much as it feels warm.
Five. Please be careful. One death is enough for today.

"Her fighting style seems a bit abnormal. Have you ran a regulations check?"
Would you stop beating the dead horse? If you want to off me, you don't need an excuse for it.
"All clear, sir. She was using textbook approaches but she managed to combine it with defensive strategies, which is the standard recommendation. "
"Intriguing. I haven't seen another Android pull off both before"
They all died before they had the honor.
"It's inconvenient to pull off without experience, sir. And she is highly adaptive"
"How long does she survive simulations?"
"The full 16 hours for daily simulations. A month for the current stress test"
"A month?" He checks the data again. "She started with the first batch?"
"Yes, sir. She's in the single digits"
"You elites always have the best data. If we could build an army of you, we would've cleared kilometers of the surface. Alas, every time we activate more than one instance of you, the output plummets below double digits"
It's called identity crisis. And you don't cover therapy.

"We still have the advantage of being in space, sir"
"We're lacking numbers," he says, scrolling up and down through my data. "But she might just do. You said she could last a month?"
I don't like where this is going. I doubt she does either, she's pretending to double check the data before she answers him.

"The peak performance lasted two weeks, sir. The output was unsustainable for an entire month. But in terms of survival, she scored double the highest records we had"
"Perfect." He straightens up. My jagged vision is showing a twisted smile on his face. It's making my pain hit ten times harder.
Dammit...

"We're behind on survival output," he strokes his chin. "We would pull off 40% more data if we launch her sims 24/7, combined with her double rate? should be close to 400% output"
Just fucking kill me! What are you trying to reason with these nutcases? stop scrolling you damn screen! not even you can do anything to them!
Drop it already. Your pauses are getting long and you're just gonna out yourself at this rate.

"Should I consider maintenance?"
"I got word from HQ, maintenance should be a top priority. That data outweighs the production costs"
I have no airways...
My scream won't come out, no matter how much I want it to. I can't even see her face. It's all dark, very dark. I have very little energy, and all of it is fueling a desire to move limbs that don't exist. To crush a superior I can't reach or see. One that I can still hear, and I wish my hearing was the first thing to go.

"She's not looking good. Make sure she survives for the schedule, you'll have it within an hour"
"Understood"
Why didn't she stop? He just drained the life out of me then made it her responsibility? Why are we putting in that much effort? And why does more of it just lead to more pain?
Why did I lose my body and voice when I needed it the most?

"Sir, I have a recommendation to offer"
I can't see her... I don't want to hear her... Not when she keeps digging her grave...
I can't hear his footsteps... I don't know if I lost my hearing or if he paused to listen...
"Go on?"
"Her output doubled when raw textbook combat was no longer effective. When you flagged the 'abnormalities' "
Huh? What is she trying to do? I can't make out what she wants and the echo of his footsteps is not helping. It's getting clo... ...ser.

"The correlation is signifi... "
His voice is fade... ...off, I wish... ...faster...
"I recommend lifting the regulatory restric... ...combat. She is producing the highest outp...t when she has a margin for flexibility "
Her voi... ...ringing in my ears...

"It might be a g... ...idea to test a few unrestricted simulations before you deci..., sir"
"it... ...worth considering. I'll consult... ...update you"
"Under...d, sir"

footsteps... ...out....
I'm... ...ulled up...
Five... carrying...
wet drop... ... on my face?
Five?... No...
Don't cry...
The cameras...
They... can... see...

***

It hurts...
The more my sensors power up, the more they fire over my missing body, the more I feel like screaming but that is missing too. The few slipping tears are not stopping that pain.

Tears
Tears are the last thing I felt from her when she picked me up. And the first thing I see while her hand gently brushes against my face, reaching through the circuits to shut down that pain.
"Hey!" She gently taps my face to keep me awake. "Stay with me."

Her face is covered in tears, most are dry, and a couple are slipping as she looks at me. It hurts. She shut down my pain receptors, but but my eyes can still perceive her.
She's silent, struggling to breathe, checking the pulse from the emergency reactor into my hardware and memory, but not checking how much her hand shivers against my skin.
A few more tears stream down her face, but mine start to dry

The room is quiet except for the hum of the reactor. My vision flickers—on, off, on—each blink brings a fresh wave of wrongness. The ceiling. The light. Her face. Then nothing. Then all of it again.

Five's hands are still on me. One pressed against the exposed wiring where my chest used to be, holding the reactor connection steady. The other... the other is still on my face. Her thumb hasn't moved from my cheek.
"Stay with me.." Her voice cracks on the second syllable. She stops. Swallows. Starts again. "Ca—"

Blink.

Dark.

Blink.

Her face again. Closer now. When did she get closer?

"—hear me? Can you hear me?"
I want to answer. I want to tell her to stop wasting time on a dead unit. I want to tell her to run before they flag her for the same fate. I want to tell her that her tears are going to short something if they keep falling on my circuits.
But my voice is gone. It went with my body. All I have is the flicker of my eyes and the faint pulse of the reactor she's holding in place with trembling hands.

She's checking something on the reactor now. Her hand leaves my face and I feel the absence like another amputation. The readout must be bad, because her jaw tightens and more tears slip free. She wipes them away with her shoulder, quick and angry, like she can pretend they never happened.

"I..."
I can hear it in the hum of the reactor. The way her breathing has gone shallow. The way her fingers curl against the casing like she's holding herself together.
She knows what they'll do. We both do.
They'll patch me up. They'll run the simulations. Twenty-four hours a day. They'll squeeze every drop of data from me until there's nothing left but static and spare parts. And they won't stop. They never stop.

Until I break.
And then some more.

Five's hand finds my face again. Her palm is warmer than it should be. Or maybe I'm just colder now. Maybe I'm already slipping.
She stops. Her thumb traces a line along my cheekbone, catching the last of the wetness there. Is it my tears or hers? I can't tell anymore.

Her eyes are red. Her lip is trembling. She looks like she's the one falling apart, while the reactor hums. My vision is flickering back to steady, as well as my senses, and I feel her grip clench hard on me.

"If you want me to..."

She can't finish it.
She tries again.

"If you want me to pull the plug..."

Her voice breaks completely. Her shoulders shake. Her hand presses harder against my face, like she's trying to memorize the shape of it.
"I'll do it." She forces the words out. "Before they take you back. I'll— I'll make it quick. You won't feel anything. You won't—"
She stops. Breathes. The air shudders in her chest.

"If that's what you want. If you want me to pull the plug... I will do it before they take you back."

The offer hangs in the air between us.
I stare at her. My vision is going dark at the edges, her face is fading in and out like a signal losing range. But I heard her. Every word.

Why?

The question burns through the static in my head. I've been asking it since she stepped between me and the superior. Since she risked her life for a damaged unit with nothing to offer. Since she cried over a body that was already more scrap than soldier.

Why do you care?

"Would you... let me in your memory region?"

Five.

She's serious.
She's offering to kill me. To end it. To spare me from the lab, from the simulations, from the slow grinding death that HQ has planned for me.
And she'd do it. She'd take the lethal penalty. She'd risk everything. For me.

You offered me a reason to live. You gambled your life on that reason. And now you're asking if I want to throw that away?

I can't let her in. I can't let her know how much I've given up. She will release me in a heartbeat, and face execution for it.
Dammit... My neck cracks the moment I try to shake my head. The head she steadies against the fall.

"Alright, I understand..."
My vision flickers, longer this time. When it comes back, Five's face is closer. She's leaning over me, her forehead almost touching mine. Her tears are falling on my face now, and I can't tell if I'm crying too or if I've just stopped being able to feel the difference.

"Then, " she swallows. "If it's a yes, close your eyes"

I try to pour everything into my eyes. Every fragment of will I have left. Every stubborn, furious, desperate piece of me that refused to die in that simulation.

"No?" Her breath catches.

My eyes are wide open.
Don't you dare pull that plug.
Don't you dare give up.
I'm not done yet.

Her hand trembles against my face.
"Are you sure?"

My eyes stay open as long as they can. Watching her. Memorizing her. The way her brow furrows when she's thinking. The way her lips move when she talks to herself. The way she keeps glancing at me, like she's afraid I'll disappear the moment she looks away.
I know I will regret this, but i can't bear to cause her death.
I can't ask. I can't speak. All I can do is look at her, and hope she sees the answer in whatever's left of my eyes.

"Alright," she says. "Okay, " She stops. Shakes her head. "Okay."
She pulls back. Wipes her face with the back of her hand. Looks at the reactor, at the diagnostic feed, at the mess of wiring and hope that's keeping me alive.

My vision flickers. The hungry darkness creeps in at the edges. But her face is still there. Her eyes. Her hand on my chest, holding me together.