A Gilded Cage
Tags: Gilded Cage Au, loss of autonomy, nonconsensual body modification, Despair, Angst
Published: 01 July 2023
Word Count: 3,497
Summary
A couple of snippets based in a "gilded cage" AU, where Murderbot went back to Preservation with PresAux at the end of ASR instead of running off. Mensah and the rest of PreservationAux mean well, but they assume they know best about what SecUnit is, and what is best for it.
Mensah and Ratthi are forced to confront some of the realities of just how wrong their assumptions were.
Chapter One: Declawed
"Ow!"
Ayda instinctively presses her clawed hand to her mouth, then pulls it away again to eye it. There's three thin red lines scored across the back of her hand, but fortunately it doesn't look like the skin's been broken. She sighs, then looks back at the guilty party. "Sorry, Adarak," she murmurs to the bristling cat.
A slight movement across the room catches Ayda's eye. Eden is curled up in an armchair, and it's shifted a little to glance over at her. "Why are you apologising to the fauna?" it asks blandly. "It's the one who hurt you."
Ayda shakes her head. "I startled Adarak, and he simply reacted instinctively to protect himself. It's not his fault."
Eden's expression remains neutral, save for the one eyebrow it raises slightly. "Can't you permanently remove the fauna's claws so it can't hurt you, even by accident?"
The suggestion makes Ayda recoil. "Absolutely not! Declawing cats is inhumane and cruel - it disfigures them and causes them ongoing pain." She frowns over at Eden. "Why would you even suggest such a thing?"
Eden meets her gaze levelly, its expression still disconcertingly neutral. "You declawed me."
There's no accusation in its bland tone, only a simple statement of fact, but Ayda's skin still prickles as a chill washes over her. "That-- that's entirely different." She takes a breath. "Removing your energy weapons isn't the same at all - they're an unnatural addition, their absence doesn't hurt you--"
Eden doesn't blink, doesn't look away as it interrupts her. "It still hurts," it says softly, quietly. "Just because I can turn my pain sensors down doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt."
That catches Ayda off-guard. "What? Why?"
Eden finally breaks off its gaze to look down at its forearms, resting in its lap and covered by the long sleeves it prefers to wear. "They're not an "unnatural addition"," it says, still quiet. "They're a fundamental part of my structure. They weren't added later - I was built with them. I can mute the constant damage alerts, but I can't disable them entirely. The alerts are still there, constantly. All the connections leading to them are still there. My systems still know my energy weapons should be there. But they're not."
"... Why didn't you say anything earlier?"
"I tried." It shrugs. "You didn't listen."
Ayda shakes her head. "No, that's... I would have--"
She's cut off by the sound of her own voice. "Don't worry, Eden," she hears herself say, the words slightly distorted by Eden's playback. "It's normal for things to hurt for a few days after a major surgery like that. It'll feel better once it's healed."
She remembers saying that, and her insides tighten. "That's-- why didn't you say anything later?"
Eden looks back up at her with its still-neutral expression, then raises one arm, letting the sleeve slide down to expose its forearm. The skin on its arm doesn't cover the area where its energy weapon used to be - there's only the smooth gleam of metal, marred by welding seams. "Inorganics don't heal." It drops its arm back into its lap again, the sleeve once again covering its forearm, hiding the inorganics from view. "I begged you not to remove them," Eden says, its tone never changing. "You didn't listen. You never listened."
Ayda's insides are clenching uncomfortably. "Still--" She tries to justify her actions. "It's still - a cat can't kill dozens of humans with its claws--"
Eden is suddenly right in front of her - it moved so fast that she didn't even register that it had risen from its armchair. It's uncomfortably close, looming over her, and her breath catches in her throat. "Removing my arm guns didn't make me any safer than I already was," it says, still so quiet, so politely neutral. "I could still kill everyone in this household before anyone could do anything, or even know anything was happening." It takes a step back, giving her room to draw a shaky breath. "But unlike your domesticated fauna, I don't lash out instinctively. I can choose what to hurt, and what to protect." She looks up at its face in time to see its mouth twist, eloquently sardonic. "Or at least, I could. But you claimed you knew best, and took all my choices away from me."
It takes another step back, and Ayda takes another deep breath. "Eden--"
It cuts her off before she can gather her thoughts, or figure out what to say. "That's not my name. That's only the name you chose for me." It lets out a soft huff. "You treat your domesticated fauna better than you've treated me."
It turns its back to her, and heads for the door. As it opens it, Ayda manages to draw herself up, regain a sliver of composure. "Wait--"
"No." Once again it cuts her off, but it doesn't look back. It just pauses briefly in the open doorway as it says, with eerie neutrality, "I think I hate you, Dr. Mensah."
Then it steps outside, and the sound of the door clicking shut behind it echoes like a gunshot.
Chapter Two: Regrets
"Do not. Ever. Touch me again."
Ratthi hadn't been able to stop thinking about that one line, hissed so quietly but so venomously. The furious expression, the narrowed eyes, the tight grip on his arm, held in a position that was uncomfortable but not painful, not yet, but so close to being painful--
And then he'd been let go. And Eden - no, not Eden, but that other name was private and he didn't feel comfortable using it, not when he could still remember so clearly the hurt and betrayal and anger and pain and fear that had shown so clearly on its face when its private name had been revealed - SecUnit had stalked off, radiating more raw emotion than Ratthi could even remember it showing since they'd gotten back to Preservation.
He couldn't stop thinking about all the times he'd grabbed SecUnit, right from that first moment when it had emerged from the company cubicle and Ratthi had cheerfully informed it that they'd bought out its contract. All the times he'd hugged, or patted, or hip-bumped, or leaned against, or otherwise touched SecUnit, how it had never reciprocated, never initiated any contact of its own. And looking back, Ratthi could now see how uncomfortable it had been, had always been, but he'd never noticed - or had chosen to ignore it. And it had never said anything to him. Had just let him continue unknowingly violating its boundaries in an effort to conform, to fit in, to make him comfortable.
He felt terrible.
What else had they all been ignoring? Ratthi had sat in with the 'discussion' they'd had with SecUnit some time after its angry outburst, had closely watched how it sat so still and silent, looking at the floor, not moving, barely reacting, its expression dead. He hadn't said anything himself during that 'discussion' - he'd had nothing to say, nothing that would help. Then it had been over, and SecUnit had walked out, still not looking at anyone, its movements lifeless.
Ratthi couldn't stop thinking about everything that SecUnit had said in its initial outburst. How much of itself it had cut away in its attempts to meet their expectations. He'd lain sleepless in bed, thinking about how expressive it had been back on the survey, its deadpan snark, its competence, and how that had all... faded away over its time on Preservation. And he hadn't noticed.
He had to fix this, somehow. Or at least, start making the attempt. This wouldn't be a quick or easy fix. Halfway through the night he gave up on getting any sleep, got up, got dressed, and went out to take a walk, clear his head.
He hadn't been expecting to actually find SecUnit, he'd just wanted to get some fresh air. But as he strolled along a path at the outskirts of the settled areas, he spotted a familiar silhouette seated on a bench, its head tilted back to look up at the night sky. As he drew near, it tipped its head slightly in his direction - maybe in acknowledgement, maybe just to see who he was - and then looked back up at the sky again. The rest of it didn't move. "Shouldn't you be in bed by now?" it asked tonelessly.
Ratthi just shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Couldn't sleep," he admitted. He eyed the bench for a moment - SecUnit was tucked up against the arm rest at one end, leaving plenty of room. He settled down on the opposite end of the bench, leaving enough space that there wouldn't be any risk of accidental contact. "What are you doing out here?" He kept his voice light, idly curious, non-judgemental.
There was a long silence before he got a response. "Mapping the stars," it finally said, its voice still expressionless. "Gives me something to do."
Ratthi looked up at the sky as well. "... They're very pretty." He only got sullen silence in response. They sat there for a few minutes, while Ratthi thought about what to say. Finally he let out a quiet sigh. "I want to apologise."
That prompted a startled little twitch out of SecUnit as it glanced back down at him, its expression sharply sceptical. "... What for?"
"A lot of things," Ratthi started. "All the touching, for one. Not noticing how uncomfortable it made you. Just... how I've treated you in general, all this time. I'm sorry."
SecUnit stared at him for a long moment, its disbelief obvious, then it shrugged and looked back up at the stars again. "Don't worry about it," it said, and now it just sounded tired. "I shouldn't have said anything to start with."
Ratthi shook his head. "No! No, you were right to speak up!" He couldn't help but notice, now that he was paying attention, how SecUnit flinched away ever so slightly. He took a deep breath to calm himself, then asked gently, "Why didn't you mention anything about not touching you before?"
"I tried, once." SecUnit shrugged again, then opened its mouth, and a perfect imitation of the therapist's voice came out. "'Touch aversion is a common symptom of trauma like yours. It will fade in time, as you get accustomed to contact that isn't punishment and doesn't cause pain. You just have to put in the effort to acclimatise.'"
Ratthi winced. He didn't have to ask if its efforts to acclimatise had helped - they very obviously hadn't. "Well, at least now that I know, I won't be touching you again without your consent." He ignored the soft but incredibly sceptical snort - it didn't surprise him that SecUnit wouldn't believe him at this point. He'd just have to prove it with his actions. Another thought occurred to him then, and he gave SecUnit a curious look. "That wasn't an imitation, was it? Was that an actual recording?"
SecUnit's blank expression shifted ever so slightly into something that was still mostly blank but now with a hint of tired scorn. "Of course it was a recording. I'm a fucking mobile surveillance system. I don't forget anything unless I make an active effort to permanently delete it from memory." Its mouth twisted. "Of course, if I do delete anything, I get accused of 'not trying hard enough' and 'not putting the effort in'." Its bitterness was palpable. "At least I can delete my star mapping in the morning. Nobody's going to notice that. Then I can spend the next night star mapping all over again, nice and new. Temporarily occupy some of my processing that otherwise just lies around idle."
Ratthi shifted to stare at it. "You do this every night?"
"Not every night." SecUnit's voice was deadpan. "Sometimes it's raining."
That prompted a soft snort of wry amusement from Ratthi. "So what do you do when it's raining, then?"
"Get rained on."
It was impossible to tell if SecUnit was joking or not. Ratthi decided not to scrutinise that one too closely. Instead, he asked, "Isn't there anything else you like to do?"
"Nothing I'm allowed to." Again, there was that tired, hopeless bitterness that made Ratthi's heart twist.
"What do you mean?"
SecUnit was silent for a long time again, looking sidelong at Ratthi as though it was trying to figure out the sincerity of his question. Finally it sighed, looking back up at the sky. "Can't watch media, apparently it's 'not healthy' for me to watch more than one or two hours a day. In a twenty-eight hour day, that's really not a lot. I get done with that before breakfast. I'm not even allowed to watch it in my own head, I have to watch it on a display surface where everyone else can see it. And I can't sneak in any in the background 'cause they monitor my downloads 'for your own good'. Can't do anything with any of the feed systems, that's a 'security risk' and 'falling back into bad behaviours' and other shit like that. Can't make stuff, because I 'make things too quickly and efficiently, we're running out of space to put it all, you're using up too many materials,' so on and so forth."
Ratthi recalled the (surprisingly brief) period of time where SecUnit had gifted everyone it could several knitted or crocheted blankets and jumpers - the speed at which it had produced them had been startling. He winced slightly as he remembered how most of the ones he'd gotten were crammed into a shelf in his closet. He was about to mention the one blanket he kept on his bed, but SecUnit was still talking, so he didn't interrupt.
"Can't go to more than a couple of theatre productions in a week, because that's 'creepy' and 'obsessive', can't spend too long in the library because again, it's 'not healthy' for me to remain cooped up indoors reading for long periods of time and also I apparently 'concern' other patrons, can't talk to any of the bots because I'd 'be a bad influence' and 'give them the wrong ideas' and 'corrupt them', can't do any kind of security because 'Preservation is safe!' and 'that's what StationSec and PreservationSec are for!' and 'there's nothing to worry about out here, you're just being paranoid!'"
Its shoulders slumped. "Everything else I've tried - and believe me, I've tried everything anyone can think of that's available to do here on this stupid fucking planet - just... hasn't been right. Hasn't occupied me, hasn't been satisfying , hasn't made me happy no matter how much I've tried. I don't need to eat, I don't need to sleep, I still hate dirt and flora and fauna, I still hate people looking at me or touching me or talking to me, I still hate not having cameras or drones, I constantly feel blind, I still hate having all this... blank, unused space in my head. Even analysing everyone's stupid fucking samples at once only takes up a fraction of my processing and everything else just lies around unused. I've tried throttling some of my processors down but that just makes me feel fuzzy and unbalanced, and then I get called out for 'not paying attention' or something equally stupid. I just feel... empty and hollow and I'm so fucking bored all the damn time! But if I try to say any of this, I just get told 'you'll adapt!' or 'try the mindfulness techniques and breathing exercises again' or other useless shit like that."
It let out a frustrated (and Ratthi had to admit, very small) huff of breath. "I can't even breathe like a human does! Fucking 'breathing excercises' don't do shit for me! But no, I'm 'not trying hard enough', or I'm 'not putting the effort in', or I'm 'ungrateful for all that we're doing for you', and you all 'just want what's best' for me, blah blah fucking blah. None of you even know what's best for me! You all keep trying to treat me like a human, but I'm not." It gestured futilely at itself. "I'm not a human with extra augments shoved in, I'm a bot with organics slapped on top."
Ratthi had a brief but vivid recollection of a scene back in the hopper on the survey; "this is no more a machine than Gurathin is--" and winced internally at the memory. He'd meant well - they all meant well, but all of them had started with a fundamental misunderstanding of SecUnit, and it was paying for their mistake. It had been paying for it for a long time now. No wonder it was so frustrated. "... Do you regret us taking you away from the company?" he asked, carefully, gently.
"Yes." The immediacy and intensity of the reply caught Ratthi off guard, and also seemed to catch SecUnit by surprise as well. It immediately grimaced and shook its head slightly. "No. Kind of. Fuck. There I go being all 'ungrateful' again."
"It's all right," Ratthi said reassuringly. "I'm not going to get mad or anything. I'm just... trying to understand better. I should've tried to understand a lot sooner - we all should have." SecUnit's expression twisted dubiously, but Ratthi kept his own expression open and earnest. "I want to hear what you have to say," he continued. "I'm listening."
The doubt didn't fade, and SecUnit was silent for a long time. But Ratthi just waited patiently, and finally it started talking again. "I... don't miss the petty, casual cruelty, or being ordered around, or... any of the really bad stuff," it admitted softly. "But I do miss having a purpose. Protecting people. I like protecting people. I like figuring out the best ways to do so. I miss my armour, I miss my weapons--" It gestured with its arms, and Ratthi was painfully aware of the smooth, blank patches on its forearms over the areas where its in-built energy weapons used to be. "I miss my drones, and camera inputs, and having a SecSystem. Standing around staring at walls was boring, yeah, but at least I still had stuff going on. I could monitor things to make sure nothing bad was about to happen, I could watch my media, I could mess around with HubSystem to let workers sneak an extra ration pack without being noticed, stuff like that. Sometimes I'd be somewhere that had a good view. That was nice, too."
It leaned back to stare up at the sky again. "The first twenty-two days of the PreservationAux survey, before everything went to shit, was the happiest I ever remember being. I could do my job without interference, none of you gave me stupid orders, I could monitor stuff and also watch my media in peace. I wasn't stuck indoors staring at boring walls, the sky there was interesting, none of you started stupid fights with each other..." It shrugged ruefully. "Even getting damaged in the line of duty wasn't that bad, as long as I could successfully protect my clients. I can turn my pain sensors down, and the cubicle can fix up like ninety percent of me. It's just part of the job, it's what I'm made for. I'm fine with that. And there's this... satisfaction, of going up against something that wants to hurt your clients, and beating it. I miss that." It rolled its eyes, bitterness seeping back into its tone. "Of course, none of that is 'healthy', it's all 'maladaptive behaviours', we can't have someone who misses fighting going around fucking peaceful Preservation now, can we?"
Ratthi's brow furrowed, though he was careful to keep his expression sincere and non-judgemental. "So being on Preservation hasn't made you happy at all?"
"Not in the fucking slightest." SecUnit scowled up at the sky for a moment before its expression softened a little, and it gave Ratthi a rueful glance. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not completely ungrateful. I appreciate the intention - get me away from the company, make sure they don't wipe my memory or reinstall my govmod, get me out of slavery, blah blah blah. I do appreciate that. But being stuck here, being denied so many parts of who and what I am, trying to make myself fit everyone else's completely unrealistic expectations, trying to make myself more human for your sakes, has just been... a different kind of misery. A different kind of slavery. Less physical danger, but no less miserable." It shook its head slowly, letting its expression settle back into that blank, indifferent mask. "Forget it. It doesn't matter."
"I'm not going to just forget all this," Ratthi protested firmly. He realised that this was the most he'd ever heard SecUnit say in the entire time it had been on Preservation. "It does matter. I'm glad that you told me!"
"I'm not." SecUnit stood up smoothly, not looking back at Ratthi. "You should go back to bed, it's late." Before Ratthi could say anything else, it quietly strode away, disappearing into the night.