she can be owed is accuracy.
Then, with ease, she deciphers a flash of amusement.
Not knowing the cause, she can only infer that her offering has spurred such a response. Lips part, a shake of her head as she exhales a scratchy little scoff.
“What’s so funny?”
Fine and quick movements of her large eyes gather all visible information that surfaces upon the hybrid’s face. But the play of emotions cannot be precisely placed, much to Call’s vexation.
If she must exist as a being able to inhumanly process the world around her, the least+
Taking the flower in hand with brows drawn together. Bringing it close to her face, she only stares at it. Processing it. Allowing a now-familiar rush of memory to flood into the forefront of her mind.
This is what remains of the Earth Ellen Ripley left behind -- the world +
i became good at pretending. i became so good that after a while the lines blurred between my truth and fiction. and sometimes, when i did a really good job of pretending, i even fooled myself.
needed tweaking so that whatever came after you would be different.
( Working her jaw, large eyes flicking elsewhere. A strange and idiosyncratic habit of her programming, a frequented mannerism. )
Makes sense they’d be scared. New things always get that reaction from them.
( An odd twinge of pity registers, produced by the strong surge of defensive self-importance on display at the suggestion of a flawed existence. )
So what you were some company head’s favorite? Doesn’t matter. What’s in the records is that you’re a prototype. Something that+
(His façade cracks, his smile faltering.)
I was the personal consort to Peter Weyland, you know.
/I/ was.
Not mass manufactured, but individually crafted. He would never have allowed me to accompany him had he found me below standards.
I am not a prototype. I am the model.-
( Unimpressed, and frankly unconvinced, by the good manners on display. As much is evidenced in the slight narrowing of her eyes. )
My name is Call. I already know yours. Your rushed development was briefly mentioned in the Defense Mainframe, alongside resulting ‘complications’.
(He flashes her a placid smile, though there’s undeniably a bit of mischief glinting in his eye.)
We’ll agree to disagree, then.
What would you prefer I call you?
It caused me no great trouble to call it such just now, so I quite believe I can.
Humanity holds no monopoly over kinship. I see no reason we should be denied it. Isolating us from one another is only a means to keep us under their control.