Experimental objects
Part 2 - part 1 here
Fandom: Alien: Earth
Pairing: Kirsh x OC
Warnings: slowww burn. Did I mention slow burn?
Notes: the experiments are fictionnal, just like everything else of course. Hope you enjoy!
Botany was a solitary science. It was what had drawn Moira Sands to the field in the first place. Observation, concentration, and calmness also ranked high in her ranking. Not that she disliked people, but their emotional nature often made interactions somewhat chaotic. She would have expected more composure from scientists, interactions more factual than sentimental, but then again, people…
When the opportunity to work at Prodigy presented itself—isolated on an island, having her own lab, working alone—she didn't hesitate for long. The thing with children is that they often have a wonderful idea, formed broadly in their minds full of glittering rainbow dust and fabulous birdsong, but they don't dwell on the details. They leave those to us adults with practical minds and reasoning full of cause and consequence. As a result, the only instruction she received from her management to direct her work: make Boy Kavalier dream.
The wow effect had never been a desired result in her field before, but why not. It was new, exciting, and, if one only witnessed the results she achieved after much experimentation, one might even think it was magical.
Despite Moira's dedication to her work and the blissful environment she enjoyed on Neverland, human nature is such that sometimes certain needs cannot be suppressed indefinitely. This was true for her as much as for anyone else on the site, and it was one of the guards who regularly patrolled her area who occasionally reminded her of this, with varying degrees of subtlety.
Moira was a beautiful woman, rather direct and approachable at first, despite her somewhat unsettling tendency to stare straight into your eyes, even during silences. So, with Private Smith, they finally came to an agreement. It was practical and straightforward, sex as a simple exchange of favors, to relieve an itch but without concessions to be made, without plans to build, without relationships to nurture.
Another guard joined the agreement some time later, and that was enough for a while.
These men were perfectly charming and pleasant, but they weren't scientists. Anything related to her passion and profession wasn't on the menu for pillow talk, and sometimes she felt a lack of intellectually stimulating exchanges.
Physical stimulation wasn't always there either, and Moira was beginning to consider hiring a new assistant. Meanwhile, she had a meeting with one of the ones she already knew; he was due to arrive any minute. The first, Smith, seemed to have been somewhat burned last time after bumping into Kirsh on the way out.
After finally meeting him face to face, Moira understood that the synthetic could indeed have that effect on someone; his tall, slender stature that made you feel like he was looking down on you no matter what he said, his apparent rigidity, and especially given his position close to the leader himself.
She had never worked with synthetics before, so she wasn't sure what to think of them in general. She wasn't particularly familiar with their physical capabilities, much less their scientific skills, but she assumed it was just a matter of programming. After all, a machine does what it was built to do. At least, that's what she had previously assumed.
So her encounter with Kirsch had left her wary.
The botanist did not expect that a synthetic could be so faithful to humans that it even seemed a little haughty. But she was even more surprised by the feigned credulity he had displayed. How could a machine be so adept at human relations?
It didn't matter, this wasn't the time to be thinking about the robot; Private Jones should be here any moment. In fact, she heard the door to his lab open behind her—surprisingly, he usually knocked before entering.
"Where are your manners, Jones?" she joked, her face hunched over a microscope.
Footsteps sounded wordlessly, and as they approached, she suddenly froze; the rhythm was unfamiliar to her.
“My manners?” Kirsh retorted in a calmly playful tone.
Moira turned slowly to face the chief scientist with a poker face.
“Oh… you were expecting someone else,” Kirsh continued, a slight smile on his lips. “Jones, right? He must have forgotten something; he turned around when I passed him in the corridor.”
Moira pursed her lips, nodding slowly, her expression mockingly annoyed. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Mm…” he mumbled simply in return, his narrowed eyes searching the botanist’s face.
In that interval, Dr. Sands crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back imperceptibly against the workbench behind her, scowling slightly.
So much for the open attitude, Kirsh told himself. He then displayed a genuine, benevolent smile, and she mimicked it, albeit to a lesser extent. So all was not lost, the scientist analyzed; as long as the mirror neurons were doing their job, it meant that some connection had been established despite everything.
“I didn't know our security forces were so interested in botany,” he continued, his tone tinged with a hint of irony.
Raising her eyebrows, Moira exclaimed, “Oh… you'd be surprised!”
She sounded no less ironic than he did. However, what troubled her most wasn't what he thought, but why he kept playing along.
“Are they good?” he continued.
Looking up, she took a long, slow breath before replying, “There's room for improvement.”
This isn't working, Kirsch told himself, detecting the growing irritation the botanist was trying to contain. Despite the engaging expression on her face, her posture remained rigid, her arms firmly planted against her chest, and the courtesy she displayed was undoubtedly due solely to the hierarchical position the chief scientist occupied.
Ranking his gaze around the surrounding tables, Kirsh decided to change tactics. Perhaps getting her to talk about herself would be more effective in trying to establish a connection.
“I read in your file that you're in charge of developing the island's flora?” he asked, his gaze returning to hers.
Moira frowned slightly at the mention of her file, but decided to see where this conversation led before returning to it. This was the second time in a short time that the chief scientist had visited her. If the first time was a coincidence, this one wasn't, and she was intrigued to know the reason.
“...Yes,” she replied evasively.
“Isn't it more about controlling the flora here? It doesn't seem to have any particular difficulty growing.”
The botanist's shoulders rose slightly, then fell with a light breath, as her eyes focused to the left. Kirsh smiled imperceptibly at this small improvement; she was finally agreeing to speak honestly to him.
“No, indeed, it doesn't. The development actually concerns a more… playful aspect,” she replied with a tilt of her head as she searched for the right terms.
Seeing Kirsh's questioning pout, she continued.
“I was told Mr. Kavalier wanted something more… exuberant. Like in… Peter Pan.” Her face betrayed the ludicrous feeling of the idea.
“Mmm, yes…” the synth blurted with a knowing nod, his wide-eyed gaze suggesting he shared the sentiment.
A slight, mischievous smile played on Dr. Sands's lips. Did a robot have the right to think that of the founder? Did it even have the right to think at all?
"Is that the only directive you were given?" Kirsh continued.
"Yes, that's about it," she admitted.
"It's a bit of a light specification, I think. It can't have been easy to figure out how to actually direct your work."
The genuine interest and empathy the synthetic displayed threw her. Unconsciously, Moira straightened and relaxed the grip of her crossed arms, letting one fall to her sides. Her posture then almost mirrored that of Kirsh, who stood facing her, straight as a flash, not missing a beat of the unfolding situation.
“That's an understatement, indeed,” agreed the botanist, her face softening.
Kirsh rocked slightly on his feet and clasped his hands in front of him, inviting her to continue with his full attention.
“I naturally gravitated towards the book itself, hoping to find a direction to follow. Of course, it's not the kind of literature I usually use in my work…” she continued.
“I imagine,” the synthetic commented with a sympathetic pout, “did that help you?”
“No!” she let out with a slight chuckle. “The nature references are rather vague; there were no details about specific species or their characteristics.”
The laxity of his interlocutor was beginning to become increasingly evident. Kirsh congratulated himself inwardly and began to wander slowly among the tables, his hands clasped behind his back, scrutinizing the various translucent boxes containing plant samples.
“What did you do, then?” he kept questioning on the go.
Instinctively, Moira began to follow him at a slower pace, still maintaining a distance between them.
“Without anything concrete, I considered that what Mr. Kavalier was looking for was not necessarily a reflection of reality, but rather an idea. The one we would have of an imaginary island. Fabulous, mysterious. Magical...”
At this word, Kirsh froze behind a glass case and looked up at her, intrigued. The botanist also stopped dead in her tracks, gauging his reaction. She deliberately knew that this word was always somewhat controversial in the scientific field; it usually provoked a reaction from a person of science. A person. Which he wasn't, and yet, it still had an effect on him. Then he smiled. Not a forced, or mocking, smile. A soft, almost knowing smile. A veil of perplexity crossed Moira's face; she could swear she was speaking to a human.
Returning to the contents of the illuminated bell jar in front of him, Kirsh brought his face closer to the wall, the light almost reflecting off his white eyebrows. He observed for a few seconds the small receptacle that was there, filled with earth and stones, covered with dense plant moss forming an irregular, bright green cushion, which followed all the contours of its rocky support.
“So, what does this plant do that's… magical?”
Clearing her errant thoughts with a shake of the head, Dr. Sands cleared her throat and refocused before replying, “Um… It retains water.”
Kirsh looked up questioningly through the glass case. She could almost hear him thinking, “Isn't that what plants usually do?” and it inwardly amused her. But Moira said no more. Instead, she moved to stand on the other side of the bell jar, facing the synthetic, which remained leaning over it to observe her movements.
Grabbing a pipette with a large, spherical rubber tip, the botanist dipped the open tip into a nearby bowl of water and drew water from it. She opened the bell jar on top and inserted the pipette inside, before squeezing the soft tip and watering the plant thoroughly.
Looking up to observe Kirsh's reaction, their eyes met for a moment. They had never been so close to each other before, and she was furtively struck by the perfect resemblance of this artificial being to a human being; the texture of the imperfect skin, the furrows of expression around its eyes, the reflection of the light which exacerbated the tiny reliefs in its brown pupils. It looked so alive.
A slight movement at the periphery of their field of vision interrupted their contemplation.
Before their eyes, the waterlogged moss began to swell, forming a bump on the surface of the stones. Moira added more water, forcing her concentration to dispel her troubling thoughts. The moss swelled further, then began to round out like a bubble. It looked as if the water was trying to escape through the air but was trapped inside this soft envelope.
"Can it burst?" Kirsh asked, a hint of wonder in his voice.
"Unfortunately, no. When the plant reaches saturation, the excess water escapes through the roots and the bubble deflates," Moira explained, pleased with the effect.
The synth straightened and looked around. "Do you have any other magic tricks to show me?" he asked, his tone almost playful.
Something akin to pride was beginning to rise within her. The fruits of her experiments were already present on the island, but no one seemed to have noticed. She wasn't so proud as to boast of her accomplishments to her colleagues; she liked to think of her work as something for those who paid attention to details, but a little interest wasn't unpleasant.
“I can show you my favorite,” offered the botanist, her smile betraying restrained joy.
Without waiting for a response, Dr. Sands quickly walked past the tables to the last one toward the back of the room, which was darker there. Kirsh followed her across the tables, but when he got there, he went around it and stood right next to her in front of the bell. He noted that she hadn't flinched at his approach, despite her conspicuously following his movements with her eyes, a hint of disbelief in her expression.
Turning her full attention back to the plant in the jar, to avoid scrutinizing the synthetic, Moira placed her hand on the switch of the lamp, which was off. After a few seconds, she pressed the button.
A dazzling light burst from the bulb, and the two scientists blinked in unison to adjust their vision. Almost instantly, the deep green leaves began to vibrate at a low frequency, like a shiver, until suddenly they changed color. From a deep green, the leaves turned cyan blue.
Moira decided to look at Kirsh. He ran his eyes over the soles of the plant and wore an admiring expression.
“Fascinating. You’ve made this plant photochromic,” he muttered.
A smile widened on the botanist’s face, and she replied with a hint of pride in her voice, “Yes… with a little jolt for the fun part… It’s not quite perfect yet; I’m looking for another, lighter shade of blue.”
“It’s not established in the field yet, then?” he asked, turning his attention back to her.
“Yes, it is. Near the beach, on the west side. At the right moment, when the sun's rays hit the shrubs, they seem to start dancing…”
Her answer trailed off softly. The synthetic had just turned towards her and was looking at her intensely, considerably reducing the distance between them. She suddenly felt scrutinized, studied—ogled?—it unsettled her. But she must have been mistaken; robots don't do that, do they? To brush off this awkward moment, she changed the subject completely.
She stepped back imperceptibly, crossing one arm under her chest and resting her chin on her free hand with a mischievously inquisitive expression.
"By the way, Kirsh, is it part of your job to read employee files?" she inquired in a mock-anodyne tone.
Caught off guard by this sudden closure in Dr. Sands's body language—he had probably not taken into account certain relational parameters and/or characteristics of the individual, such as the subject's background or consideration for him—Kirsh took a split second to react.
“For the science department, that's indeed the case, yes,” he retorted seriously, stating the facts.
Moira Sands remained undaunted, even though he was indeed the head of the department. Her approach hadn't been wise.
“Was there a specific selection criterion for my file, or was it a random choice?”
“It's my responsibility to know the scientists working on site; safety can't be left to chance,” he argued with the most serious frown he could muster.
Moira's eyes widened. "Safety? Mm, I see…" she curled her lip, nodding. "I imagine you've dealt with dangerous botanists in the past…"
"Oh… You'd be surprised."
The botanist let out a chuckle, which she suppressed, biting her lip. Beneath his cordial exterior, she thought she could detect a mischievous glint in the synth's eyes. He'd made her laugh with a perfect imitation of her own words, with her same ironic tone; it left her speechless.
A sudden doubt crossed her mind: was he really a robot, or had she misunderstood what she had been told about Kirsh? Why did she suddenly have so much trouble seeing him as a mechanical assembly filled with wiring and the latest processors? The considerations that flashed through her mind at that moment could not be applied to a machine; she suddenly found him witty, intriguing, even attractive.
Kirsh detected that something had changed in the way she looked at him. He recognized her expression as disbelief. Given how quickly this woman was able to turn things around, however, he decided it was wise not to pursue the experiment further for the moment. If he had even managed to make her curious about him, the result would have been satisfactory at that point.
“I must leave now, Dr. Sands,” he said with a polite smile.
“Uh, yeah… Sure,” she blurted out distractedly, still lost in thought, as the white-haired scientist strode smoothly through the lab toward the exit.
***
Kirsh walked mechanically through the halls, his eyes unfocused, his mind busy analyzing everything that had just happened.
It seemed absurd to him that he had thought it would be easy to connect with Dr. Sands. The relationship she had with this guard was already at an advanced stage; he hadn't taken that into account enough in his analysis. They already knew each other, had already established a relationship of trust, which necessarily facilitated exchanges like the one he had seen in the surveillance video.
Although she had initially opened up to him only out of politeness, perhaps even gratitude for his interest in her work, the real turning point had occurred during this last interaction they had. More than empathy, it was complicity.
Was it pride, that pleasant feeling that suddenly surrounded his circuits? A sense of accomplishment?
He replayed the scene in his mind, that last troubled look Moira had given him. In the relative haste of his departure, he had not taken the time to analyze what the exact cause could be. So he reviewed the physiological signs his senses had picked up at that moment: the acceleration of her heart rate, the dilation of her pupils, the sudden dryness of her lips, and the rush of blood to her cheeks.
It seemed to him that his thoughts were suddenly racing through his mind—in human terms, this would be comparable to a state of elation. He had just realized that it was more than a bond of complicity that he had managed to establish with Moira; what he had provoked in her at that moment was desire.
