true_writers 17.3]
OOC: This prompt response features AU!Leoben, in the Earth!AU-verse. A nod to arrow_of_apollo for the rations comment. ::grins::
3. What can you do in thirty minutes better than anyone else you know?
Cook.
Well, that's probably not very fair. I could cook better than Sam and Kara both in any amount of time you give me--thirty minutes, six seconds, two hours. Don't worry, they'll agree with you. If I didn't cook, we'd probably be starving. If you've ever seen Kara try and fix something, you'd know what I mean. Sam isn't much better, but he admittedly doesn't burn everything the way Kara does. I'm not saying this to make anyone angry. It's just a good thing I'm here to do the cooking, or else we'd be severely malnourished.
Thankfully, fish have finally been declared safe for consumption for both human and Cylon. I was getting tired of rice, as was everyone in my household. Incidentally, they finally realized our "household of three" was not simply two adults and one child. My thanks to whoever made that particular change.
Before I lived here on Earth, I used to cook on the basestar. We had processed food that was prepared by Centurions, but they didn't exactly make things that were supposed to be flavorful. One day, I went back in the area we used as a kitchen and started looking around at all the things we had, deciding if I could do something with the ingredients, make something a bit less bland. We used to eat meals, all of us, without thinking about what exactly it was we were eating; I mean, of course, in terms of taste, spices, that sort of thing. Humans ate, so we ate. It never occurred to us that humans also cook. Or that they enjoy cooking, or enjoy eating, for reasons other than practicality.
We thought that way about a lot of things. Food. Sex. Sleep.
My model has never been very individualistic, not like some of the others--the Sixes, the Eights. But you see, we all rebelled in some way against our programming. We have all become more human in our own ways. My sister Eight has borne life. The Sixes know love, know pain, more fully than any of us could ever imagine. The Three's dared to seek that which lies in the shadows, that knowledge which was forbidden to all of us.
And I learned how to cook. Everyone was resistant, at first, when I tried to explain what I was doing (there were a lot of us to feed, of course, but there were a lot more of me to do the cooking). They didn't understand why I would bother with this strange task. It was good food, perfectly balanced, the right proportions for energy and health. It wasn't supposed to matter what it tasted like.
It did, though, to me. And eventually, the rest of them appreciated it. Eventually, the Centurions stopped doing a lot of the cooking.
Another little way in which we were changed, altered into beings with names instead of numbers. War broke out between the Cylon because we could not agree, because we no longer acted with a unity of purpose as we had before. And it started with small things; sleeping because it was pleasant to dream. Having sex because it felt good, even after we ascertained we would not breed by doing so. Eating because things taste good.
In a flood, all you remember is the deluge. You don't think about those first few clouds in the sky, covering the sun.
3. What can you do in thirty minutes better than anyone else you know?
Cook.
Well, that's probably not very fair. I could cook better than Sam and Kara both in any amount of time you give me--thirty minutes, six seconds, two hours. Don't worry, they'll agree with you. If I didn't cook, we'd probably be starving. If you've ever seen Kara try and fix something, you'd know what I mean. Sam isn't much better, but he admittedly doesn't burn everything the way Kara does. I'm not saying this to make anyone angry. It's just a good thing I'm here to do the cooking, or else we'd be severely malnourished.
Thankfully, fish have finally been declared safe for consumption for both human and Cylon. I was getting tired of rice, as was everyone in my household. Incidentally, they finally realized our "household of three" was not simply two adults and one child. My thanks to whoever made that particular change.
Before I lived here on Earth, I used to cook on the basestar. We had processed food that was prepared by Centurions, but they didn't exactly make things that were supposed to be flavorful. One day, I went back in the area we used as a kitchen and started looking around at all the things we had, deciding if I could do something with the ingredients, make something a bit less bland. We used to eat meals, all of us, without thinking about what exactly it was we were eating; I mean, of course, in terms of taste, spices, that sort of thing. Humans ate, so we ate. It never occurred to us that humans also cook. Or that they enjoy cooking, or enjoy eating, for reasons other than practicality.
We thought that way about a lot of things. Food. Sex. Sleep.
My model has never been very individualistic, not like some of the others--the Sixes, the Eights. But you see, we all rebelled in some way against our programming. We have all become more human in our own ways. My sister Eight has borne life. The Sixes know love, know pain, more fully than any of us could ever imagine. The Three's dared to seek that which lies in the shadows, that knowledge which was forbidden to all of us.
And I learned how to cook. Everyone was resistant, at first, when I tried to explain what I was doing (there were a lot of us to feed, of course, but there were a lot more of me to do the cooking). They didn't understand why I would bother with this strange task. It was good food, perfectly balanced, the right proportions for energy and health. It wasn't supposed to matter what it tasted like.
It did, though, to me. And eventually, the rest of them appreciated it. Eventually, the Centurions stopped doing a lot of the cooking.
Another little way in which we were changed, altered into beings with names instead of numbers. War broke out between the Cylon because we could not agree, because we no longer acted with a unity of purpose as we had before. And it started with small things; sleeping because it was pleasant to dream. Having sex because it felt good, even after we ascertained we would not breed by doing so. Eating because things taste good.
In a flood, all you remember is the deluge. You don't think about those first few clouds in the sky, covering the sun.