Swallowing Things like Shattered Glass
Summary: This is the unedited video of the one leaked on the InfoSphere. This is only IC knowledge to those with clearance.
Date: 26 October 2013
Related: All of Sarah's logs.

December 21, 3013 — Landing, Imperius

The feed crackles to life. It takes a few seconds for the noise to dissipate, revealing a small cell at the end of a very lonely hallway. Even in monochrome, the sheer brightness of white sterility both blinds and suffocates. The interior of the cell is spartan. There is a toilet, a single-wide bed, and a simple metal chair. It sits in that chair, dressed in a simple black jumpsuit. The sleeves are rolled to its elbows, revealing matching cybernetic forearms and hands. Its dark hair has been slicked back, but it falls just shy of its shoulders. There is a certain feminine edge to its otherwise androgynous appearance. Its luminous cybernetic eyes are open, staring at a point on the floor of its cell.

A woman in a fine Landing-style suit steps into frame. She claims a chair that sits just outside the barrier of the cell, sweeping her hands gracefully down the back of her tea-length skirt. The woman has dark hair, pale-colored skin, though she sits with her back to the camera and therefore her face goes unseen.

"Good morning, Sarah," the woman says.

The Hostile raises its eyes toward her, staring piercingly across the gap. "Good morning, Doctor," it says in a smooth, flat alto.

"I was surprised to hear that you asked to see me," the Doctor says. She draws her tablet and stylus from her simple briefcase, and taps at the screen. She looks up toward the Hostile who flexes its cybernetic fingers idly.

"In our last… session," the Hostile says, the word hanging dryly on its lips, "You had asked me if we believe we are human."

"You didn't want to answer the question," the woman replies in that neat, psychologist tone.

"I wanted to think about it."

"And, now that you have?"

The Hostile is silent for a moment, the weight in the pause evident even through the feed. "At the most basic level, we are human. Our genetic sequencing is the same. I possess the same number of chromosomes as you. When I was born, before my augmentation, I was as pink and fragile as your own offspring." The Hostile tilts its head. "I am human."

The Havenite pauses, tapping her stylus against the surface of her tablet. "There is more to humanity than our genetic code, Sarah."

"That," the Hostile says in its flat, dry tone, "I am aware. The Inner Worlders believe that we are strictly automatons — robots, drones, hunks of machines without mental process, individuality, or a sense of self." It tilts its head. "I possess a family. Perhaps my family was created in a way that is uncustomary to you, but it does not defy your own definition. I have even met a blood relative amongst the Inner Worlders. Despite my numerical designation, the source of my genetic material, I am an individual. I am human."

There is a weighted silence shared between the two — the Havenite and the Cantosian. The Landing-dressed woman shifts almost uncomfortably in her chair, twisting her stylus between her fingers.

"I am human," it says again — she says again — this time with a touch of fire in her tone. Her narrow brows arch slightly over her luminous cybernetic eyes. "Your people have been fighting your own kind."

Then the feed shorts out.

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