Accidental DDoS (Distributed Denial of Self)
Tags: Aspec TMBD 2023, AAA Murderbot, No shipping, aspec microaggressions
Published: 17 April 2023
Word Count: 3,784
Summary
Members of ART's crew keep trying to define what Murderbot and ART's relationship actually is, much to Murderbot's growing disgust. The comments and remarks keep increasing, and Murderbot finally reaches a breaking point.
In response to a prompt by avg (AnxiousEspada) and a prompt by lunaTactics in the Aspec_TMBD_2023 collection.
"So, you two like, like-like each other, right?"
The statement makes so little sense that I stare directly at Turi for a moment before looking away again. "What the fuck are you talking about."
"You and Peri!" Turi gestures vaguely towards me and at the ceiling. "You don't just like each other, you really like each other! You're always hanging out together, you spend all your time watching stuff together, you argue like a married couple--"
"Don't be fucking stupid," I cut Turi off. Discomfort twists inside my torso. "It's not like I can go anywhere else when we're in a wormhole. And I argue with ART because it's an asshole."
[We are simply mutual administrative assistants,] ART adds smoothly. It knows my opinions on this. [And you still need to pick up your socks, Turi.]
"All right, all right! No need to nag." Turi huffs and leaves the lounge, and I let out a little breath of relief.
[Are you all right?] ART asks me, privately.
[I'm fine,] I reply. [I've already deleted the conversation from archives.] And I have.
But the discomfort still lingers.
It's movie night on board ART, and everyone's gathered in the main lounge to watch the movie of choice. It's an action adventure one, suitably unrealistic with some impressive visual effects, but there's a romantic subplot which I do my best to ignore whenever it crops up. I can't just skip over it like I normally would, not with everyone else also watching.
Ignoring it becomes almost impossible though when first Turi, then Kaede and Karime, begin comparing the two romantically-involved characters to ART and me. "Look, they argue just like you two do!" Turi comments gleefully. "You're just like them!"
"We are nothing like them," I reply flatly. The thought makes me feel like my skin's too tight, and performance reliability drops two points.
[SecUnit is correct,] ART agrees with me in its usual prim, precise manner. I'm too annoyed to enjoy the rare moment of ART admitting I'm right about something, though. [Any perceived similarities are spurious and incidental.]
"No, seriously, they're just like you two - the quips, the insults, the way they argue but also trust each other to have the other's back in a fight!" Karime adds, grinning over at me. "It's really cute, honestly!"
"They are not anything like me or ART," I insist. I can't even say "us" without feeling like my insides are clenching unpleasantly.
"Sounds like someone is in de~ni~al~," Kaede sing-songs.
"Fuck off." I want to get up and leave, but that would draw even more attention that I don't want.
Fortunately for me, Iris intervenes. "Enough," she says mildly. "Some of us are actually trying to watch the movie." The rest settle down again, turning their attention back to the large display surface.
But I have no interest in watching the rest of the movie any more. I turn down my audio receptors, close my eyes, and retreat to the safety of Sanctuary Moon after deleting both the conversation and my copy of the movie from my archives. ART doesn't comment, but I feel it leaning closer in the feed, a familiar gesture of comfort and reassurance.
My performance reliability drops another two points.
I hurry into the meeting room, adjusting the collar of my jacket as I take my usual seat at the table. (It's still a little weird to even have a 'usual seat' or be included in meetings in the first place.) As I settle into the chair, Tarik rolls his eyes at me. "About time you got here," he drawls.
"Maintenance took longer than expected." Now that I no longer have access to a cubicle, I'm reliant on ART's (or Preservation's, when I'm there) MedSystem for necessary maintenance and resupply. It's annoying, but better than the alternatives. (I've experienced the alternatives before. The alternatives suck.)
Tarik raises an eyebrow in my general direction, then grins slyly. "Uh huh. 'Maintenance.' Looks like you were having some fun in there." He gestures vaguely to his own collar.
I stare blankly over his shoulder. "What the fuck are you talking about?" There's nothing fun about maintenance. It's tedious and occasionally uncomfortable, if not outright painful. This one at least hadn't been painful, but one of my knee joints had needed recalibrating.
"Oh come on, you can't pretend you don't know," Tarik replies, still grinning.
My expression must give away how confused I am because Matteo elbows Tarik and rolls their eyes. "Tarik is being crass and implying... ah, 'physical intimacy'," they state delicately.
Tarik guffaws. "Physical intimacy!" he echoes. "That's one way to put it I guess. I mean, you and ART are practically joined at the hip, and with all those MedSystem arms, you could--"
He's interrupted by Matteo elbowing him again, but I barely notice because I'm too busy fighting the urge to just leave the room. My performance reliability has plummeted a full five points. My organics feel like something's twisting and writhing in them. I feel...
I feel gross.
"-- and why else would 'maintenance' take so long, anyway?" Tarik continues even as I try to regain my equilibrium.
[Answering that would breach the patient's medical confidentiality,] ART breaks in, its voice smooth and crisp. There's a sharp note to it that I don't often hear it direct at its own crew.
"Ah, relax, Peri," Tarik says. "I'm just teasing. It's cool, right?" He grins over in my general direction.
I can't think of anything to say, so I just flip him off. He laughs at that, and then Seth enters the room and everyone's attention turns to the mission briefing that we're actually here for. I delete all of Tarik's comments from my archives and try to focus on the briefing.
It's hard to focus though. I still can't shake the gross, sick feeling.
After the mission briefing, I retreat to my room and lock the door behind me. There's still almost two cycles to go until we reach our destination, and I have no intention of leaving my room at all during that time. I can feel ART lurking in my feed, as usual, but when it draws too close I can't help but flinch, and it backs off again.
[Are you all right?] it asks, quiet and concerned.
I don't know how to answer. My performance reliability hasn't recovered from its sharp drop, but I can't figure out why. So I do what I always do - I ignore it. [I'm fine,] I reply as reassuringly as I can manage. I can feel ART's dubiousness, but it doesn't press me.
To give myself something to do, I get out my drone maintenance kit and sit at my desk, my drones all lining up neatly in front of me. It's a good idea to check over them before the next mission, anyway. ART is silent for a while, though I can still feel it lurking in the feed. Finally it says, [Would you like to watch some more Port and Abroad with me?]
Port and Abroad is a new serial we've been enjoying together. It's about a group of humans exploring unknown space, but regularly returning to their home port for resupply (and so there's reasons for interpersonal drama between the main cast and their friends and family back at their home port). It's satisfyingly dramatic, and unrealistic, and we've been enjoying it. But right now I don't want to watch any more of it. I also don't want to watch Sanctuary Moon, or Worldhoppers, or anything else.
I hesitate, long enough for ART to most likely notice, then say, [Can we just listen to some music for now?]
[Of course,] ART replies immediately. A little bit of the tension drains from my organics, and I start up one of our shared playlists and focus my attention on my drones.
The mission goes about as well as can be expected. We achieve our objectives, and while I get shot a few times in the process, it isn't anything too serious, and nobody else gets hurt. So I count that as a win.
I can feel ART's worry through the feed, but it has seen me survive much worse in the past, so it isn't being (too) overbearing. ART's crew are also concerned for my wellbeing (and yes, that is still very weird to me), so as soon as we're back on board ART, Seth accompanies me towards Medical while the others disperse to stow their equipment and do their own post-mission tasks.
[Don't leak on my floors,] ART says as we go.
I know it's just using snark to cover up its concern, and I roll my eyes where I know ART's cameras will see it. "Don't be a baby, ART, I'm fine."
Seth, still waking beside me, sighs. "Fine or not, we should still get you into MedSystem immediately."
He says something else, but I miss it entirely because both Threat Assessment and Risk Assessment spike alarmingly, and I can't figure out why. ART's cameras and my drones don't show anything out of the ordinary, and ART is already launching from the station and heading towards the wormhole. If anyone was pursuing us, ART would know about it.
I still haven't figured out what caused the spike by the time we reach Medical. I follow Seth in, then freeze in my tracks as both Risk and Threat assessment spike even higher at the sight of the MedSystem. Performance reliability drops several points, my organics tighten uncomfortably, and my joints briefly lock.
I do not want to get into the MedSystem.
I really, really do not want to get into the MedSystem.
Seth hasn't noticed my hesitation; he's already prepping the MedSystem for me. ART notices, however, and sends me a wordless ping. It's enough to jolt me out of my freeze, and I ping back. "I don't need the MedSystem," I say to Seth, as casually as I can manage.
Seth pauses to look over at me, his brow furrowing. "You got shot multiple times, SecUnit," he says carefully. "I know you said nothing important was damaged, but we still need to remove the projectiles and double-check." ART is looming in my feed, but it remains quiet.
What Seth is saying is logical, and sensible, and I know it is. I know I should let MedSystem treat me. But my organics are still clenching and twisting, and they've started to sweat. I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I'm fine." I take a step backwards, towards the door out of Medical, but it stays closed. For a brief moment I feel betrayed - but that's stupid. That's dumb. ART and Seth just want to make sure I'm okay.
I'm not okay.
Seth's now frowning at me, his arms folded. "SecUnit," he says, gentle but stern. "You and I both know that we can't leave your injuries untreated. Why are you so reluctant?" ART looms a little closer in the feed, and I can't help but flinch away. It immediately retreats again, pulling itself back and making its presence smaller.
"I–" I shake my head. Seth's right, I know he is. I take a step towards the MedSystem, but my organics tighten and my joints freeze again. "I don't want to." That comes out without me meaning to say it.
Seth blinks a little in surprise. "Why don't you want to?" he asks gently.
I shake my head again, trying to get my thoughts into order. "I just– I don't want to. I don't want to! I don't want 'physical intimacy' with ART!" I don't know where that came from, but it feels - it feels accurate. "I don't want 'physical intimacy' with anyone!" And once I say that, it's like the floodgates open. "I'm not fucking married to ART, I don't want to be married to ART, I don't have some kind of stupid human lovey romantic relationship with ART, we're not having 'mind sex' in the feed, we're not 'adorable lovebirds', I don't even have sex parts and I don't want sex parts, neither of us are even human to start with so why does everyone keep trying to force us to fit into their stupid fucking human expectations of what our relationship 'should' look like!? What's wrong with just being mutual administrative assistants?!"
[… Ah,] ART says quietly.
Seth looks concerned. "Where did all this come from?" he asks gently.
I don't know how to explain when I can't even remember entirely myself. [Let me handle this,] ART murmurs in my feed, though it's still careful to keep its distance.
I appreciate that distance right now.
I don't hear what ART says to Seth, but I can see how Seth's brow furrows as his concern deepens. After a couple of minutes, he lets out a sigh. "Ah." He says it almost exactly the same way that ART said it earlier. "I see." He sighs and rubs at his chin. "That's… we'll need to talk about that, but we really can't leave you untreated…"
[May I suggest using one of the med packs?] ART says. [Would that be acceptable?]
I hesitate, but neither Risk or Threat Assessment react negatively to the idea, so I nod. Seth also considers it for a moment, then nods as well. "That will do for now," he says, and goes to get one of said med packs from a locker. "Are you all right with me using the med pack, SecUnit, or would you prefer ART's drones?"
I shake my head before I even know I'm doing it. "No drones." I still hate humans touching me, but right now Seth using the med pack is preferable to ART's drones.
I hate that I feel that way. [I'm sorry,] I send to ART.
[It's okay,] ART replies gently. [I understand.]
I'm glad it does, because I don't. I take my shirt off and let Seth direct me to a chair so he can start using the med pack on the projectile holes in my back. It's mildly unpleasant, but not in the way that makes me want to crawl out of my own skin. It's a comfortable, tolerable, familiar kind of unpleasant.
"So how long has this been going on for?" Seth asks as he begins carefully extracting projectiles from the organics on my back.
I'm not sure what he's actually asking about, but ART answers before I can say anything anyway. [It has been increasing in frequency over the course of the last several missions,] it replies, unusually subdued. [I took the teasing and familiarity as a positive sign that the crew were becoming more comfortable with SecUnit's presence, treating it more like a fellow crew member instead of an outside contractor. I did not realise just how uncomfortable their comments were making SecUnit.] It pings my feed gently. [I am sorry. Whenever I asked you about it, you said you were fine, and that you'd deleted the offending comments from your archives already. I took it at face value, but given that you felt the need to delete them entirely in the first place… perhaps I should have paid more attention.]
Ah. That… explains a lot. I begin combing through my archives, looking for gaps, and…
… Okay, yeah, wow. That's a lot of gaps. They're all very small, ranging from a few seconds to a few minutes at most, but they'd been increasing in frequency as time went on. That matches up with what ART is saying.
[I have also noticed a gradual shift in SecUnit's behaviours,] ART continues to Seth. [At first it was just the choice of media that we watched together, but more recently it has extended to avoiding most media in general, and only indulging in instrumental music. I put it down to a natural shift in interests - I have observed many other humans' hobbies and interests also waxing and waning. I should have taken it as the warning sign that it was.]
I don't like how subdued ART sounds. "This isn't your fault," I say out loud, even as I ping ART. "You didn't do anything wrong."
[I let you become so uncomfortable and distressed that you reached the point of outright refusing proper medical treatment,] ART says sharply. [What would have happened here if you had been more seriously injured during this mission?]
"... I don't know." It has a point. I don't know how to answer that. I focus on the feeling of Seth using the med pack to extract more of the projectiles from my back instead.
"Why didn't you say anything earlier about it?" Seth asks eventually, the question punctuated by the sound of a projectile pinging into a medical dish.
I resist the urge to shrug. I don't want to jostle the med pack. "It just… it didn't seem worth the effort, or like it would change anything. It was easier to just delete the stupid shit people were saying and not think about it."
[It probably did not help that whenever SecUnit tried to deny their presumptions, it would often just get accused of being in denial,] ART adds. [In hindsight, I should have stepped in earlier, but… the topics of sex and romance seem to be a fundamental and utterly inescapable facet of human interactions. I have analysed all the media we've accumulated, and 97.8% of it includes at least some mention of sex or romance.]
I let out a snort. "That's because anyone who doesn't want either or both of those isn't considered interesting enough to be focused on in media."
Seth raises an eyebrow at me. "Media isn't reality though," he comments, like I'm too stupid to realise that.
ART also seems unimpressed with its captain's remark. [Ah, of course,] it replies dryly. [Perhaps then I simply miscalculated the inevitability and inescapability of humans' fixation on whatever they perceive to be sexual or romantic relationships, despite any evidence to the contrary. Oh, wait.] Its sarcasm is scalpel-sharp, and Seth winces. ART doesn't give him the chance to respond though. [As I was saying. Since I did not realise how uncomfortable SecUnit was being made, it didn't seem worth the effort to try and discourage such topics amongst my crew.]
"It shouldn't bother me this much, anyway." I can't help but let out a breath of frustration. "They're just stupid comments, stupid inaccurate human opinions. I don't know why they're still bothering me even after I've deleted them."
[Perhaps it is the increasing frequency at which they're being made,] ART suggests. [Or perhaps it is simply the way they tend to ignore your protests, and assume they know your life and your thoughts better than you do.] It sounds incredibly snippy, but I know the snippiness isn't directed at me, and what it's saying makes sense.
"Perhaps." It doesn't ease the discomfort though. It doesn't make anything better. The fact that the comments, whatever they were, bothered me so much whenever they occurred that I felt it necessary to delete them outright in the first place…
"Rest assured, SecUnit," Seth says as he begins applying wound sealant to my organics. "I will be having a serious talk with the rest of the crew. There will be no more of any of those kinds of remarks if I have anything to say about it." His words are firm, but his hands are gentle.
I appreciate that, but… "I don't want to be here." Once again, the words come out without me meaning to say them.
"Here in Medical, or…?" Seth asks after a brief pause.
I can feel ART lurking in the feed, being so very careful to not crowd me. It makes me feel terrible for what I'm about to say, but I don't want to lie. Not here, not now, not about this. "Here on this ship. Around this crew." It's almost a relief to say that, to acknowledge it out loud.
I don't want to be here any more.
I still like ART, and I still want to spend time with it. But right now, that's completely overshadowed by the twisting, writhing discomfort that engulfs me whenever ART gets too close in the feed, or whenever the humans here make assumptions about our– our mutual administrative assistance. And I'm tired of deleting bits of my own memory. [I'm sorry, ART, but I need a break.]
[I understand,] ART replies, and despite the careful distance it's keeping, I can still feel enough of it to know that it really does understand. That's such a relief. I don't want to lose ART entirely.
Seth lets out a quiet sigh, but doesn't argue. "Well, with the completion of this latest mission, your current contract is almost over," he says instead. "Our schedule has us heading back to the University after this, then taking on a load of students for a semester." He smiles wryly. "Having to deal with a bunch of hormonal teenagers is probably the last thing you need right now. And it's been a while since you last visited Preservation for any length of time. So, it seems as good a time as any for you to take some time for yourself. Have a holiday." He finishes up with the med pack, and starts cleaning up. "You and Peri can still keep in contact via messages, and once the semester is over, we can revisit the situation, see how you're feeling then. How does that sound?"
It actually sounds good. Really, really good. I get to have a break, but it's not a permanent break. I can still maintain my friendship with ART, and I can also spend some time with my humans back on Preservation. But still, I ping ART privately first. [What do you think?]
[I think it is both wise and necessary,] ART replies. [Hopefully time and distance will help to negate the negative associations that you currently have.] It hesitates briefly, then adds, [And again, I am sorry that I did not understand the extent of your discomfort. I want you to be happy.]
My organics do something twisty, but this time it's the not-unpleasant kind of twisty. Even after all this time, it's still a little weird to think about anyone caring about whether or not I'm happy. It's kind of nice. [Thanks, ART. I'm sorry I let it get to this point, too.]
[It is not your fault,] ART insists.
[I'll agree to that as long as you agree that it wasn't your fault either.]
ART hesitates, but only for the briefest moment. [That is an acceptable agreement.]
I let my amusement bleed into the feed, then nod at Seth. "That sounds like a good plan."