2B does not know the word, what to expect of it, but her questioning was not warranted here. She was needed, as assistance, and it was an order— that was more than enough for the android to still in her wait. Woe's eyelids falling into serenity has her watching the beauty of it, until a jerk jostles her internal system and lurches her limbs into a sudden languor. Her lips part to gasp, and in a fraction of a second she crashes behind her visor.
Then nothing. Well, almost nothing. 2B had once conversed with 9S over the possibility of having a soul, but ending the idle discussion on a possibility (as metaphysical ponderings would). Anna spoke of having a soul, a fracture of A2's lodged into her essence, things that made sense one moment then nothing at all the next. Perhaps that's what it was like, to be a soul. A contradiction.
She was gone, rushing high to a roof that didn't exist, then sailing like a gentle flag in pure white light and a neverending, a pooling chill that dragged down yet rose as an elevated cloud would, ascending from mist and terrain to denser skies. Vibrations exponentially drove through her essence like— electricty. There was laughter. Silence. Peace. An embrace that welcomed and immersed as the break of coiling waves would. There you are. They weren't words. Sensations, at most. Pixilated and transcribed. She had a soul.
Her body does not fair the same without it. It is an empty chassis, and it should stay that way with minimal damage— but it doesn't. 2B's husk does the opposite of waiting in cold stupor. The errors continue without her, the mechanisms break down until they're breaking apart. Her internal temperature rises to a dangerous height. The smell is not rotten, but acrid and metallic. Her carbon fiber skin goes iridescent in spotty blotches until it flakes and retreats into a crimp as ash would. It leaves the metal underneath close to malleable, if not flaccid. It exposes her skeletal structure, second by second. Wires rather than tendons, tubes rather than veins and arteries, but they are made with materials of biological nature— they grow with her, and they wither as she does. With its breakdown, milk-pale blood oozes from the cracks.
No one has to hold her up if she is falling down; a rag doll that cannot lock its weight beneath her as one of balled joints and porcelain would. Her black box is compromised, and from within her empty casing come biting sparks, snapping wires, and a whistling, high-pitched beep that has an ugly end.
no subject
She was gone, rushing high to a roof that didn't exist, then sailing like a gentle flag in pure white light and a neverending, a pooling chill that dragged down yet rose as an elevated cloud would, ascending from mist and terrain to denser skies. Vibrations exponentially drove through her essence like— electricty. There was laughter. Silence. Peace. An embrace that welcomed and immersed as the break of coiling waves would. There you are. They weren't words. Sensations, at most. Pixilated and transcribed. She had a soul.
Her body does not fair the same without it. It is an empty chassis, and it should stay that way with minimal damage— but it doesn't. 2B's husk does the opposite of waiting in cold stupor. The errors continue without her, the mechanisms break down until they're breaking apart. Her internal temperature rises to a dangerous height. The smell is not rotten, but acrid and metallic. Her carbon fiber skin goes iridescent in spotty blotches until it flakes and retreats into a crimp as ash would. It leaves the metal underneath close to malleable, if not flaccid. It exposes her skeletal structure, second by second. Wires rather than tendons, tubes rather than veins and arteries, but they are made with materials of biological nature— they grow with her, and they wither as she does. With its breakdown, milk-pale blood oozes from the cracks.
No one has to hold her up if she is falling down; a rag doll that cannot lock its weight beneath her as one of balled joints and porcelain would. Her black box is compromised, and from within her empty casing come biting sparks, snapping wires, and a whistling, high-pitched beep that has an ugly end.