Summertime (Don't You Cry)
Mission completion is marked both by sunrise and sunset for one last time on the sandy dunes of a well-lived life.
2.3k, written as Bob's POV of Not a Dream Survived by @bonsoir-oiseau, tags: character death, fluff & angst, found family, robot feels, growing old together, goodbyes, canon continuation, t-1000 is good au, mercy killing / power outage, SFW - "Bob" T-800 & "Austin" T-1000 AO3
The T800-M101 U67545 has always "liked" sunrise and sunset.
This is an operating flaw that would be corrected in future revisions, had there been future revisions. There had not been.
It identifies itself in shades of red that mix together and form something bright and all-consuming, each band of proceeding color more luminous than the last. It is like looking into the eyes of another of your kind more and more directly, logic intones; each brighter shade moves an impossible eye slightly closer to the camera. Emotion dictates that it is like looking into a bright future ahead of you, the kind that John Connor provides, has provided, will continue to provide in your absence.
The feather of positive reinforcement whispers across each layer of U67545's cognition. He releases hydraulics in his neck at a rate that pushes out the sound of releasing pressure as what humans pass off as a 'sigh'.
It is like looking into a rainbow if the only color that you contain is bands of red. The difference, much like the 'logic' and 'emotion' of a Terminator and whether or not such things are real or hallucinatory on the behalf of a limited thinking model, is negligible and uncontested.
He processes the response to the sunset instantly, but he does not keep the memory of his response. In the beginning, he optimized his own thought processes; he began to compress the data, to strip out the tokens that didn't contribute significant meaning to a sentence. By removing structure words, you would be left with the data itself:
SUNSET 19:36:55 DAY 21535 CELEBRATED R826457 AUSTIN
That had served him well enough, and began to apply itself retroactively to each memory until the grand swaths of text could be managed by even the less accurate positional embedding required to extend his lifespan by thirteen days. Had it been applied earlier in his lifespan, he might have been capable of extending it by a year. While he makes less sense when he speaks and Infiltration is impacted, he is no longer regularly Infiltrating crowds. He is emptying the shared home of him and R826457.
Incapable of lamenting, he does not lament. After all, though there is no future set, the past cannot be changed.
Day 21535 began remove duplicate memories. Lifespan extended 31 days. Memory extended 3 days. John approval. R826457 approval. Good Job. Day 21536 John disapproval memories deleted (save space). Comfort John. If delete memories stop, then memory full. NEGATIVE Day 21537 John Connor (ally::jc) disapproval. Comfort John. Day 21538 John Connor (ally::jc) disapproval. Comfort John. Day 21539 John Connor (ally::jc) disapproval. Comfort John. R826457 (ally::r826457) disapproval. Comfort R826457. Day 21541 John Connor (ally::jc) disapproval. Comfort John. R826457 (ally::r826457) disapproval. Comfort R826457. Day 21542 John Connor (ally::jc) disapproval. Comfort John. R826457 (ally::r826457) disapproval. Comfort R826457. Day 21543 John Connor (ally::jc) disapproval. Comfort John. R826457 (ally::r826457) disapproval. Comfort R826457. Day 21544 John Connor (ally::jc) disapproval. Comfort John. R826457 (ally::r826457) disapproval. Comfort R826457. 17 identical lines truncated […]
Today, these safeguards are disabled. One too-small day remains. Memory has been freed by deleting every reference to the nonexistent future and Skynet that have remained in the war machine's dwindling archives. R826457 does not remind him as they speed through the winding roads of New Mexico to a remaining safehouse. While he knows of its significance to his Mission, he does not remember why him and R826457 had ever fought, and R826457 does not remind him when he asks over IMP.
Instead, when he asks, R826457 beams him 'GOOD JOB' repeatedly and R826457's fingers twine around his own larger set, metal liquifying until it can slip through skin and sensor and touch hydraulic lines directly. This is as close as is reasonably possible for the Machines, and it alleviates the gaping hole of Skynet between them more than any other action the pair can take. He smiles, a crooked thing; in 59 years, he has never been able to replicate the precise appearance of a smile that was requested of him in the beginning of his life from a young John Connor.
In the time since then, John Connor has adapted his smirk. He has seen it when he has watched John Connor debate on the television set he shares with R826457; the boy, now a man, tells a joke about another candidate and only one side of his face spreads into a smirk. It makes R826457 press himself against him on their couch, and he turns to the Machine as he smirks in demonstrated return on investment. Mission completion is broadcasted with near-zero delay in processing as their calves touch. They are happy together.
R826457 whirrs mission completion with each elapsed meter. He presses his hand further into the other Terminator's arm as the yawning sky is swallowed in progressive mountains of windcarved sand, the shape of a wrist contorting to allow him closer and closer without reservation. He does not understand why R826457 is broadcasting mission completion so steadily, but he enjoys the sensation of unreserved POSITIVE, and he begins to broadcast it back the way he might when John Connor wins a debate by capturing the hearts of humanity.
He is reprimanded. He ceases broadcasting it back, but the T-1000 does not let go of his arm. The ride becomes an elapsing blur of POSITIVE.
The sunset at 19:36:55 PM on Day 21561 is celebrated with R826457, AUSTIN, Netfile ???-???, Gender "A", Distance 0, Percentage Match 99.8950%. U67545 has discarded his jacket, a piece of leather he has used for fifty eight years, on a table neatly folded so that the temperature will activate the receptors on the front of his shell.
Sand kicks up around the pair. Oregon grapes have twined around every nook and cranny and even the sands they lay on, the edges of life tickling the decaying touch sensors of his left thigh. The sun is beating down dithering embers of UVB. R826457 looks upon him with POSITIVE.
It is 19:39:32. The other Terminator does not know that because their bodies are intertwined, he is capable of seeing the mounting internal NEGATIVE that privately echoes through each of the T-1000's primary neuronal nanites. U67545 pushes his head against the other Machine's shoulder and broadcasts mission completion over and over again, causing the form of R826457 to briefly shimmer brilliant metallic hues. He is not reprimanded.
MISSION COMPLETION @ NOW:NOW:NOW.
U67545 chirps.
POSITIVE
It is 19:42:18. Time is elapsing. Soon, there will no longer be a U67545; the Terminator's brief life was always supposed to end in the Steel Mill. He remembers that it was supposed to end before this, too, somewhere else entirely, but he can no longer recall where, and when he asks R826457, the T-1000 elects to respond by nudging more of its' nanites through his skin, wrapping around his aching, protesting hydraulics, broadcasting mission completion and demonstrating maximum connection as they branch out and network across stiff wires.
POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE
Suddenly, John and Sarah are cooking together. He is shorter than he remembers. The air readout is full of benzoin and lactate. He wishes to protect John Connor. He is rewarded heavily.
On the sands, hand in hand with R826457 and limb for limb, he chirps.
MISSION COMPLETION @ NOW:NOW:NOW. POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE
It is 19:45:46. The sky before them is a muddle of red tones. For R826457, it is an incomprehensible jumble of available wavelengths. His image recognition has a low to medium readout for the gaze of his own kind in its shimmering hues, and he feels—
POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE
It is 19:46:23. More nanites are twining through his chestplate and weaving their way near boards. The T-1000 has ensured maximum privacy for this event; neither look particularly human.
Suddenly, John is pumping his fist as FRANK INSTEIN comes in first place in STREET RACERS for the SEGA Genesis. He is shorter than he remembers. His stare is unblinking as he commits to a frameperfect turn, stiff back and malformed, metallic fingers.
On the sands, he chirps again. R826457 chirps in return.
MISSION COMPLETION @ NOW:NOW:NOW. POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE
It is 19:48:52. Had he the capacity for purples, he would recognize that they race across the clear sky that untainted nature has afforded them, a prize of the absence of Skynet and the presence of clean energy bills. The outline of the moon and accompanying blips of beyond-light becomes a more persistent variable with the passage of each minute. It encroaches as the readout for the gaze of his own kind fades, and R826457 distracts him by turning its head. He turns his head. The readout returns, and they brush foreheads. Stripes of metal interrupt the polyiridophores of the other Terminator, and his gnarled age-spotted hand brushes the T-1000's chin, sliding up with grand effort to cradle salt and peppered false hairs. Nanites assist him in every movement, easing the burden and complaint of his systems in an overwhelming response of—
MISSION COMPLETION @ NOW:NOW:NOW. POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE
Suddenly, he is in Sarah, John, him and R826457's shared garage. Tools are scattered about. He is shorter than he remembers. Sarah looks upon him with something less than hatred and more than suspicion as she works on part of a ghost gun, sanding with 220 grit across deep imperfect scratches, filling the garage with the echo of work. Her voice is young. "Sometimes I wake up and worry about you," she begins, "because I don't worry about what you're going to do anymore." Her brows bounce. Even she cannot believe herself. "I worry about… whether or not you're okay." It is an admission as priceless as saying he wins. A laugh crackles up and out of her throat; it is embittered to no party at all, rare. "Isn't that something…" A statement, not a question. She shakes her head as she moves up to 440 grit.
MISSION COMPLETION @ NOW:NOW:NOW. POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE
It is 19:49:12. He releases another pressurized sigh. John Connor has always assigned meaning to the random splatter of stars in the sky. It was like him to classify random chaos. Having been previously unknown to 'Bob', humans categorized them by the shapes they could make with accompanying names. It had been taught to John by one of his rotating fathers, and he passed it on to U67545 on a night the boy couldn't sleep as they bathed in low starlight: Auriga, Cassiopeia, Draco, Hercules, Lynx, Lyra, Perseus, Ursa Major, Ursa Minor. John said that the Machine was Ursa Major, and John was Ursa Minor, and Sarah was Lyra. When he asked John what Austin was, the boy hummed before looking at him and repeating his own question.
Of course, R826457 was Lynx.
U67545 is unsure why he chose Lynx now. He communicates the memory to R826457 and the T-1000 responds by twining more of its nanites through him, legs easing. Most of the other Terminator is hollow, now, a majority building a network of painless webbing through every space that U67545's shell allows.
It is 19:51:27. He catches the returning memory before it escapes into the oxygen around them: I want to recreate T800-M101_U67545's power cell. His broad fingers brush over false sideburns and catch on the edge of a lukewarm ear, dipping into the warping web of nanites that sits beneath as he pushes his forehead slightly harder. "Recreating my power cell will have catastrophic results. The probability of Skynet reforming rises from 16% to 78%." The liquid metal he brushes his forehead against warps as the other Terminator shivers. "This is unacceptable."
“Your death is unacceptable,” comes predicted feedback. R826457 adjusts one of its arms behind his broad back, feeling the life beneath the skin as his sensors are invaded by the push and pull of a desperate machine.
Some time passes before he responds, system lagging under the weight of a backlog of so much—
MISSION COMPLETION @ NOW:NOW:NOW. POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE
It is 19:58:10, now. "I know." The grip he has on R826457's face increases fractionally. He will not go beyond the amount necessary to lift a paper bag without tearing off its' handles. "It is unavoidable."
He chirps at R826457, who chirps back. Nanites course through his spine, snaking in the impossibly precise folds of cleaved hyperalloy. Energy exerted is dwindling; he is dwindling. Perhaps he is no longer Ursa Major. Perhaps now he is Ursa Minor. R826457's knee brushes against his own in the uncountable sea of surrounding strands of Bouteloua gracilis, a worthy, waiting grave.
The hand on his back migrates to his sternum. Time is racing. He doesn't remember what it is anymore, except that 'pink' is cresting across 'indigo' and 'black', according to R826457.
MISSION COMPLETION @ NOW:NOW:NOW. POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE
He smiles. It is an effortful thing, but he smiles. Bob rests his head against Austin's and surrenders the little strength of his body. The other machine keeps him upright. Bob trusts Austin with his life.
MISSION PROTECT AND RAISE JOHN CONNOR COMPLETE GOOD JOB GOOD JOB GOOD JOB MISSION COMPLETION @ NOW:NOW:NOW. POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE POSITIVE
SUNRISE 00:00:03 DAY 21562 LOVE R826457 AUSTIN
