Fic: Persuasion (S&S Prompt fic)
Title: Persuasion
Author: lost_spook
Rating: All ages
Word Count: 1281
Characters/Pairings: Silver
Warnings Possibly for manipulation? (Warnings for weird S&S ficlets are hard.)*
Summary: Silver always gets on well with pretty bits of technology.
(Prompt 74: silver - Angst & Manic pixie dream girl. With thanks to justice_turtle who explained to me what the cliché/trope meant, that Silver was one anyway, and wondered what I’d do with it. As it turned out, the angst won. Also my brain apparently keeps wanting to make pixie into pixel, which explains the following fic.)
This also fitted neatly into fan_flashworks's latest prompt, so I also wrote it for their Borrowed Title challenge.
*Me (at various points in different ficlets): Er. Um. Silver talks someone into doing something? Someone dies for a bit? There’s blood? Non-existence? And always: Is this shippy or not? *gives up and makes best stab at description/warnings*
***
She was sitting on the computer desk as he walked in, shutting the door softly behind his back. Or, no, he corrected himself rapidly, she wasn’t sitting - she had carefully placed herself there as if she were.
She looked up at him, blurring a little with the movement and once she’d caught herself again, she’d changed: her hair was still long and brown, but curling at the ends where before it had been straight, and darker. She had switched from jeans and a long-sleeved top to a light, cream suit; a deep red triangle of her top visible at the front.
“You’re new,” she said and smiled at him.
Silver smiled back, but edgily, and made an attempt to reappear next to the computer. Instead, the room itself blurred into light and then they were both at the seaside. She was leaning against the blue painted iron bars of the promenade’s front, looking out at the unreal sea. Now she was wearing a summer dress - short-sleeved, patterned and floating.
“Don’t be boring,” she said, turning her head back to look at him. “You don’t want that old thing. This is much better, isn’t it?”
Silver laughed, lightly, but he could see and feel the darkness eating away at the edges of the bright picture she’d created. “It’s charming,” he said. “But I’m afraid I do need to look at the machine.”
She vanished into a pinpoint of light and then reappeared directly in front of him. “No. You can’t. I don’t want you to.” Then she tilted her head to one side, and smiled again. “I’m Amy, by the way. Who are you?”
“Silver,” he said and held out his hands as if to signal that he wasn’t about to try anything, although that wasn’t precisely true. “The trouble is, this illusion isn’t enough. I think you know that.”
Amy stared upwards and then the image about them shifted in a myriad of squares until it cleared again and they were standing in a field; an unnaturally green field with grass and wildflowers too evenly spaced around them. The blue sky overhead was bright but sunless.
“There,” she said. “How about that?”
“Oh, I agree, it’s pretty.” Silver bent down and picked a bright yellow, perfectly formed buttercup and tucked it behind her ear. “Almost as pretty as you.”
She gasped and then stared at him. “How - how did you -?”
“And every bit as unreal,” he added, taking her hand.
Amy looked down at her hand in his and then put her other hand to the flower in her hair. “You - you touched me.” She widened her eyes. “You are different, aren’t you? You really are.”
“Well,” said Silver, amused, “I like to think so.” He kept hold of her hand, gently, but he still held on. He worked on giving her a little more reality. It wasn’t impossible; after all, she had some presence here, however small. A graphic, maybe as much as 1000x2000 pixels somewhere in a file, copied files, possibly print-outs. It was only another sort of reduplication.
She closed her eyes. “You can make me real. You can, can’t you?”
“I can solve your problem,” he said and raised her hand to kiss it. Her image wavered again. “Yes, I can do that.”
She reached out without opening her eyes and gripped the cloth of his jacket. Then she opened them again. “I didn’t know… how it would feel. It’s - it’s -”
“Real,” said Silver for her, leaning in nearer for a moment. “I know. Artificial fibres… machine work, human labour. Real.”
She trembled again, her image blurring into pixels. Then she moved closer and kissed him, lightly.
“Well?” he asked, amused again.
She had no human embarrassment. “I only wondered. They all seem to…”
“Yes, they do, don’t they? And you don’t know why,” he finished for her, with a small smile. “Well, it was rather nice from where I was standing. But I must look at the computer itself if you want my help.”
The illusion around them fell away and they were back in the spare room-cum-office of the house. It looked terribly ordinary, even dingy in comparison. Silver moved past her and over to the machine instantly. Then he turned back.
“Show me,” he said. “Everything. Any file, anywhere that might have been uploaded, back-up copies -”
Amy nodded and sat on the chair in front of the computer. She could sit this time; he’d done that much. Then, as she opened up the first folder, she looked back at him with a sudden fear.
Silver put his hand to her shoulder and stroked her hair. “Yes,” he said. “I know. But look up, above you.”
She did so and they both saw the growing darkness spreading across the ceiling that should have been ordinary white painted plaster.
“If you were to become real,” he said in her ear, “that’s the first and the last thing you would know. Find me those files. You can do that.”
She looked back at the screen. “But you -” She stopped and then took a breath that wasn’t a breath at all, merely a mimicry of what the humans did. “I only want to be real, to leave here. I want to help. I only want to be real.”
“No,” said Silver, serious now and terse. “No. It isn’t what you want. It’s what someone else wants, what they’ve projected onto you.”
“But you said - You said.”
“I said I could solve your problems,” said Silver, keeping one hand on her shoulder. “Yes, but only this way. If you want to help, then you’ll give me those files. If you don’t, you’ll be swallowed up in that - and so will this place, that human in the next room and maybe everything else if my colleagues can’t prevent it spreading. I’m afraid I’ve already given you all the reality you can have.”
She looked at the screen ahead of her and opened folders and tabs without another word, though non-existent tears fell onto and through the keyboard.
“Is it everything?” he asked softly and when she nodded, set about deleting it all. He didn’t even have to touch the computer to do it. It was such an easy thing for him to do, such a terribly simple way to complete an assignment.
She looked down, and watched herself slowly begin to grow translucent.
“It won’t hurt,” Silver said and kept hold of her, even though she was barely there. He could do that, too. No one else could have done any of it. How lucky it was that he was here. “I promise. And the alternative would, I assure you.”
She was almost completely gone now, fading away layer by layer, nothing but a composite collection of amalgamated images, colouring and adjustment layers and human imagination. It wasn’t her doing. A human had made her, unwittingly, had projected emotion onto her and the power lurking here for so long had found that a conduit it could use. Silver gave another wary glance upward at that thought, but the darkness was dispersing along with her.
She was holding on, though, whether she meant to or not - or perhaps it was still fiercely holding onto her, as first one thing and another had for all of her short existence. Silver much preferred admiring and exploring the clever, pretty things the humans made to destroying them, but he also knew his purpose. He smiled distantly, and knelt down beside her chair. Then he glanced up at her, all but invisible now, and took her hand and kissed her palm: a final distraction.
When he looked up again, she had gone.
***
Author: lost_spook
Rating: All ages
Word Count: 1281
Characters/Pairings: Silver
Warnings Possibly for manipulation? (Warnings for weird S&S ficlets are hard.)*
Summary: Silver always gets on well with pretty bits of technology.
(Prompt 74: silver - Angst & Manic pixie dream girl. With thanks to justice_turtle who explained to me what the cliché/trope meant, that Silver was one anyway, and wondered what I’d do with it. As it turned out, the angst won. Also my brain apparently keeps wanting to make pixie into pixel, which explains the following fic.)
This also fitted neatly into fan_flashworks's latest prompt, so I also wrote it for their Borrowed Title challenge.
*Me (at various points in different ficlets): Er. Um. Silver talks someone into doing something? Someone dies for a bit? There’s blood? Non-existence? And always: Is this shippy or not? *gives up and makes best stab at description/warnings*
***
She was sitting on the computer desk as he walked in, shutting the door softly behind his back. Or, no, he corrected himself rapidly, she wasn’t sitting - she had carefully placed herself there as if she were.
She looked up at him, blurring a little with the movement and once she’d caught herself again, she’d changed: her hair was still long and brown, but curling at the ends where before it had been straight, and darker. She had switched from jeans and a long-sleeved top to a light, cream suit; a deep red triangle of her top visible at the front.
“You’re new,” she said and smiled at him.
Silver smiled back, but edgily, and made an attempt to reappear next to the computer. Instead, the room itself blurred into light and then they were both at the seaside. She was leaning against the blue painted iron bars of the promenade’s front, looking out at the unreal sea. Now she was wearing a summer dress - short-sleeved, patterned and floating.
“Don’t be boring,” she said, turning her head back to look at him. “You don’t want that old thing. This is much better, isn’t it?”
Silver laughed, lightly, but he could see and feel the darkness eating away at the edges of the bright picture she’d created. “It’s charming,” he said. “But I’m afraid I do need to look at the machine.”
She vanished into a pinpoint of light and then reappeared directly in front of him. “No. You can’t. I don’t want you to.” Then she tilted her head to one side, and smiled again. “I’m Amy, by the way. Who are you?”
“Silver,” he said and held out his hands as if to signal that he wasn’t about to try anything, although that wasn’t precisely true. “The trouble is, this illusion isn’t enough. I think you know that.”
Amy stared upwards and then the image about them shifted in a myriad of squares until it cleared again and they were standing in a field; an unnaturally green field with grass and wildflowers too evenly spaced around them. The blue sky overhead was bright but sunless.
“There,” she said. “How about that?”
“Oh, I agree, it’s pretty.” Silver bent down and picked a bright yellow, perfectly formed buttercup and tucked it behind her ear. “Almost as pretty as you.”
She gasped and then stared at him. “How - how did you -?”
“And every bit as unreal,” he added, taking her hand.
Amy looked down at her hand in his and then put her other hand to the flower in her hair. “You - you touched me.” She widened her eyes. “You are different, aren’t you? You really are.”
“Well,” said Silver, amused, “I like to think so.” He kept hold of her hand, gently, but he still held on. He worked on giving her a little more reality. It wasn’t impossible; after all, she had some presence here, however small. A graphic, maybe as much as 1000x2000 pixels somewhere in a file, copied files, possibly print-outs. It was only another sort of reduplication.
She closed her eyes. “You can make me real. You can, can’t you?”
“I can solve your problem,” he said and raised her hand to kiss it. Her image wavered again. “Yes, I can do that.”
She reached out without opening her eyes and gripped the cloth of his jacket. Then she opened them again. “I didn’t know… how it would feel. It’s - it’s -”
“Real,” said Silver for her, leaning in nearer for a moment. “I know. Artificial fibres… machine work, human labour. Real.”
She trembled again, her image blurring into pixels. Then she moved closer and kissed him, lightly.
“Well?” he asked, amused again.
She had no human embarrassment. “I only wondered. They all seem to…”
“Yes, they do, don’t they? And you don’t know why,” he finished for her, with a small smile. “Well, it was rather nice from where I was standing. But I must look at the computer itself if you want my help.”
The illusion around them fell away and they were back in the spare room-cum-office of the house. It looked terribly ordinary, even dingy in comparison. Silver moved past her and over to the machine instantly. Then he turned back.
“Show me,” he said. “Everything. Any file, anywhere that might have been uploaded, back-up copies -”
Amy nodded and sat on the chair in front of the computer. She could sit this time; he’d done that much. Then, as she opened up the first folder, she looked back at him with a sudden fear.
Silver put his hand to her shoulder and stroked her hair. “Yes,” he said. “I know. But look up, above you.”
She did so and they both saw the growing darkness spreading across the ceiling that should have been ordinary white painted plaster.
“If you were to become real,” he said in her ear, “that’s the first and the last thing you would know. Find me those files. You can do that.”
She looked back at the screen. “But you -” She stopped and then took a breath that wasn’t a breath at all, merely a mimicry of what the humans did. “I only want to be real, to leave here. I want to help. I only want to be real.”
“No,” said Silver, serious now and terse. “No. It isn’t what you want. It’s what someone else wants, what they’ve projected onto you.”
“But you said - You said.”
“I said I could solve your problems,” said Silver, keeping one hand on her shoulder. “Yes, but only this way. If you want to help, then you’ll give me those files. If you don’t, you’ll be swallowed up in that - and so will this place, that human in the next room and maybe everything else if my colleagues can’t prevent it spreading. I’m afraid I’ve already given you all the reality you can have.”
She looked at the screen ahead of her and opened folders and tabs without another word, though non-existent tears fell onto and through the keyboard.
“Is it everything?” he asked softly and when she nodded, set about deleting it all. He didn’t even have to touch the computer to do it. It was such an easy thing for him to do, such a terribly simple way to complete an assignment.
She looked down, and watched herself slowly begin to grow translucent.
“It won’t hurt,” Silver said and kept hold of her, even though she was barely there. He could do that, too. No one else could have done any of it. How lucky it was that he was here. “I promise. And the alternative would, I assure you.”
She was almost completely gone now, fading away layer by layer, nothing but a composite collection of amalgamated images, colouring and adjustment layers and human imagination. It wasn’t her doing. A human had made her, unwittingly, had projected emotion onto her and the power lurking here for so long had found that a conduit it could use. Silver gave another wary glance upward at that thought, but the darkness was dispersing along with her.
She was holding on, though, whether she meant to or not - or perhaps it was still fiercely holding onto her, as first one thing and another had for all of her short existence. Silver much preferred admiring and exploring the clever, pretty things the humans made to destroying them, but he also knew his purpose. He smiled distantly, and knelt down beside her chair. Then he glanced up at her, all but invisible now, and took her hand and kissed her palm: a final distraction.
When he looked up again, she had gone.
***