Androids Do Dream of Electric Sheep (Closed to Five, Androids, and Avon)
Data looked at his personal messenger when it went off.
Guessing that he didn't have much time, he went quickly back to his room and removed his anterior cranial panel. He hooked in a clear cord to an isolinear device, then he started searching his memory engrams. A concert here. Watching his mother play her violin there. Lal asking him questions. A quiet drink sitting across from Commander Riker in Ten Forward. Satisfied, he disconnected the device, replaced the panel to his duranium plated skull, and left.
He quickly went to find his sons, two isolinear chips programmed with little tidbits they could carry with them. Knowing the nature of fickle timelines, if he didn't see them ever again, he could at least have a glimmering hope that some small part of him they could carry with them. As human as he tried to be, there were some ways that androids could say good-bye that humans couldn't.
~*~*~
Afterward, he made a good solid attempt at his usual climb of the hotel stairs, but midway up it was like being hit with a barrel. Data held his abdomen as his digestive systems stalled. He became painfully aware of the rhythm of his artificial pulse in his ears, and he covered his face with his hand. He didn't know if he would ever see either of those young men again. He didn't know if he would see that innocent young man that so resembled the Doctor and took after him again. He didn't know if he would actually get to spend those ceaseless hours constructing the frame for an android that Avon would help program.
His knees wobbled, a mechanical failure triggered by some subroutine connected to another that was run by another, and he propped his weight against the wall slackly. Signals from the emotion chip churned through his net, overwhelming him to the point he wasn't even aware that he was sliding down to the steps.
In some quantum reality, he would have two wonderful children. But in another time and place he also owned Sir Isaac Newton's house, was a professor at Cambridge, and owned many cats. In another, he was still the Enterprise's operations officer. More than anything he had ever aspired to, though, if he had a choice in whatever future endeavours he could embark on, he wanted to contribute to those two boys again. Such things were unfortunately not guaranteed.
Data found himself covering his face with his hands, almost tempted to turn off his emotion chip as he struggled his way back into a standing position.
Guessing that he didn't have much time, he went quickly back to his room and removed his anterior cranial panel. He hooked in a clear cord to an isolinear device, then he started searching his memory engrams. A concert here. Watching his mother play her violin there. Lal asking him questions. A quiet drink sitting across from Commander Riker in Ten Forward. Satisfied, he disconnected the device, replaced the panel to his duranium plated skull, and left.
He quickly went to find his sons, two isolinear chips programmed with little tidbits they could carry with them. Knowing the nature of fickle timelines, if he didn't see them ever again, he could at least have a glimmering hope that some small part of him they could carry with them. As human as he tried to be, there were some ways that androids could say good-bye that humans couldn't.
~*~*~
Afterward, he made a good solid attempt at his usual climb of the hotel stairs, but midway up it was like being hit with a barrel. Data held his abdomen as his digestive systems stalled. He became painfully aware of the rhythm of his artificial pulse in his ears, and he covered his face with his hand. He didn't know if he would ever see either of those young men again. He didn't know if he would see that innocent young man that so resembled the Doctor and took after him again. He didn't know if he would actually get to spend those ceaseless hours constructing the frame for an android that Avon would help program.
His knees wobbled, a mechanical failure triggered by some subroutine connected to another that was run by another, and he propped his weight against the wall slackly. Signals from the emotion chip churned through his net, overwhelming him to the point he wasn't even aware that he was sliding down to the steps.
In some quantum reality, he would have two wonderful children. But in another time and place he also owned Sir Isaac Newton's house, was a professor at Cambridge, and owned many cats. In another, he was still the Enterprise's operations officer. More than anything he had ever aspired to, though, if he had a choice in whatever future endeavours he could embark on, he wanted to contribute to those two boys again. Such things were unfortunately not guaranteed.
Data found himself covering his face with his hands, almost tempted to turn off his emotion chip as he struggled his way back into a standing position.