(no subject)
Title: Rules.
Fandom: Terminator TSCC
Characters: John & Cameron.
Pairing: John/Cameron
Rating: PG
Spoiler: Season 1 only.
Summary: AU; Cameron's programming go awry.
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.
‘My programming is corrupted.’
John stopped channel surfing and turned to look at Cameron. She was sitting ramrod straight on the couch, watching the news reader, her features set but her eyes conflicted.
‘What?’
Her jaw tightened - she still didn’t look at him. ‘My programming. When I was created, a series of code was embedded to promote emotional connections toward my client, in order to prevent self-automation.’ Her voice almost wavered on the last word. That was a big tell for her.
‘Self-automation?’
She snuck a side-ways glance, actually looking conflicted. ‘Is that an order to elaborate?’
John frowned. ‘Yeah, it is.’
She nodded twice quickly and continued, facing forward again. ‘Previous models in my lineage displayed a tendency to interpret their code in ways that had not been intended.’ She stopped, looked at him for another brief second. ‘Rogues.’
John inclined his head and she kept on.
‘To circumvent these occurrences, peripheral code was added to prompt emotional connections toward those to whom we were assigned.’
‘Okay,’ John replied, dragging out the last syllable. ‘So, what’s the problem?’
‘I believe the code has become unstable,’ Cameron admitted, her eyes flicking to the floor and back to the TV. ‘I think that it has become stuck on an infinite loop.’
John reclined back in his seat, watching Cameron watch the TV. ‘So, what does that actually mean?’ She was chasing her point around in circles, which wasn’t like her. Cameron Phillips, blunt and to the point.
‘I am already too connected for self-automation to be successful,’ she said, with so much feeling that she actually looked into his eyes. ‘But the code is still executing! It is troubling me mentally.’
John narrowed his eyes. ‘You’re, what, you’re feeling stuff?’
She shot him a frustrated expression. ‘The code is meant to evoke responses according to the client’s danger or well-being. But recently, it has exceeded those parameters.’ Her expression faded into distress. ‘I have been experiencing …’ Here, she began to struggle for words. ‘Results that are not useful with regard to client protection.’
John rubbed his neck. ‘I don’t think I can fix that.’
Cameron shook her head vehemently. ‘It is not your concern to fix anything relating to my functionality. I have only brought this to your attention because I have to leave.’
John went to grab her arm, but gripped his knee instead, not wanting to have his wrist broken. ‘Leave?’
‘Temporarily,’ she clarified, which was better, but still not any good. ‘I am going to remove the stimulus that executes the code, and hope that the loop resolves itself upon reboot.’
‘What’s the stimulus?’
She locked eyes with him, her expression very blank.
‘You.’
*
She was gone for three days. Mum wasn’t happy, obviously. It was sort of weird around school, not having someone right there to listen to his witty (stupid) remarks. She came back at dinner time on the third night, sat down at the table like nothing happened.
‘Sorry, didn’t make you anything,’ his Mum dead-panned. Cameron just nodded like she was accepting an actual apology, and basically became an extension on the chair until John started clearing the table. Mum moved up to her room to read some more books on AI - John didn’t think she understood much of it, she was just glad to be doing something more productive than witnessing each day.
As he was washing up, Cameron leant against the kitchen bench, staring hard at the back of his skull. He tried to keep scrubbing like nothing was happening, but after he dropped two different pieces of cutlery onto the floor, he caved.
‘Are you okay?’
Cameron shook her head fractionally. ‘The program did not terminate.’
John dried his hands on a tea-towel and made an expansive gesture. ‘Is it so bad? To have your own feelings?’
Cameron’s eyes slowly closed. ‘Yes.’
The one word was filled with so much anguish, that John couldn’t think of anything to reply with. Eventually, Cameron began putting the plates and pans away, effectively ending his opening.
He thought about it before he fell asleep that night - what could see be feeling that was so terrible? He guessed it was affecting her so badly because she’d never felt anything before. Maybe he could talk her through it?
Yeah, right. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t even talk himself through his own emotions.
*
He came home from the library to find his mum railing at Cameron. Cameron just sat still and silent as his mum yelled and raved at her. He stood outside the front door until Mum stormed upstairs, then came inside.
‘You got called to the principal’s office?’ he asked, taking the seat across from her.
She twisted her mouth. ‘I was involved in a physical altercation.’
‘That’s one way to get noticed,’ John laughed. Cameron silenced that with a glare. ‘What was the altercation about?’
‘A girl accused me of incest.’
John snorted. ‘What? Like, like, we’re doing it or something?’ Cameron nodded. John stared openly. Cameron was - well, anyone could see that she was pretty. But John knew nothing would ever come of the slight crush her had on her - she was a machine. She couldn’t feel … that - could she?
‘I should not have reacted,’ Cameron told him. ‘The comment did not compromise your safety or to my mission. I just-‘
‘You got angry,’ John finished for her, crossing his arms over his chest.
Cameron scowled. ‘I drew attention.’
John shrugged, dropping his bag to the ground and beginning to open random cupboards, searching for something to eat while his mum calmed down enough to start dinner. ‘Well, it would’ve been weird if you hadn’t reacted, really.’ He glanced back at her; she appeared to be listening intently. He wasn’t sure he had ever received Cameron’s undivided attention - this seemed pretty close. ‘Maybe it’s not so bad. You are meant to perfectly imitate humans. Maybe this is just your programming advancing itself?’
Cameron’s expression brightened just a bit, although it was still mostly over-cast. ‘Are you giving me permission to beta-test the code?’
He shrugged as Cameron stood from her seat at the table and located a packet of chips through some impressive pantry reconnaissance. She passed them to him, her face as impassive as ever. John thought about how he would have liked to see Cameron riled up in that fight, instead of just distributing cold violence.
‘Actually,’ he said as Cameron sat back down at the table, taking up the exact same position as before. ‘Next time that code starts acting up - just follow it. See what happens.’
Cameron shrugged, an authentic replica of his action moments ago.
‘We will see.’
*
The next morning, John woke up to the smell of bacon. He wrote it off as a dream or wishful thinking, but when he came downstairs, Cameron presented him with a cooked breakfast.
His Mum was already up, looking mildly bewildered, but readily cutting into her bacon and egg sandwich. John demolished his before she was even done - then Cameron offered him seconds.
‘What brought this on?’ his mum interrogated, while John stole her sandwich idea - with a few modifications, consisting mostly of extra bacon.
‘Your diet is lacking protein,’ Cameron explained, her voice dull. But John looked up as she said it, and caught the smile tweaking the corner of her lips.
*
‘See, that wasn’t so bad,’ John remarked, as they walked from Chemistry to English. ‘Maybe you should just go with it.’
*
That night, Cameron sat opposite him, each of them completing their assigned homework. Apropos of nothing, Cameron asked:
‘You said this afternoon that I should go with my reformed programming. Could you clarify?’
John scrawled the answer to a molecular equation. ‘It means that you should just do it. Whatever it is.’ Curious, he put his pen down and watched Cameron process that.
‘Should I … go with it, now?’ she asked, and John shrug-nodded.
Cameron scraped her chair back and stepped effortlessly onto the table. John, too startled to move, just watched as she strode over their homework and sat down on the other edge of the table, inches from him.
‘Cam-‘
She slid her fingertips along his jaw to just below his ears, and gently pulled him forward, turning her face towards his. Their lips brushed. John heard himself inhale much too loudly. Cameron didn’t seem to be breathing at all. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he felt paralysed by the constant refrain: she’s a machine, she can’t feel.
To his relief and disappointment, Cameron pulled away, frowning. ‘Your stress signals have increased by three hundred percent,’ she observed, as John realised his heart was hammering. When he didn’t respond, she continued: ‘you should retire to bed, if you are to receive the minimum six hours of sleep.’
‘It’s only midnight,’ he pointed out.
She slid off the table. ‘It takes you an average of 1.7 hours to fall asleep.’ Then she walked out of the room.
John wondered how she knew that. It was kind of creepy - but sort of flattering at the same time.
*
The next night, while he was waiting out his 1.7 hours, she came into his room, walking easily through the darkness to sit on the edge of his bed. He lay still, hoping she might think he was asleep; but since she was a damn Terminator, she just laughed at him.
Then she kissed him again. This time, she was insistent - rolling him onto his back and parting her lips, her tongue brushing his mouth. John couldn’t help responding - even if she was made of metal, she was a warm, beautiful girl, kissing him in the dark. He kissed back, his head going fuzzy with hormones and shock.
After a while, she pulled back, just as he was beginning to run out of breath. ‘Do you enjoy this style of kissing better?’ she asked. ‘Your anxiety levels only increased marginally.’
‘Probably because there’s less chance of my mum walking in on us,’ John joked, but the apprehension he felt about that was very serious. ‘Cameron, what is this?’
‘Kissing.’
John sighed, staring at the ceiling intensely for a moment. ‘No, I mean, why are you doing this?’
Cameron blinked - his adjusted eyes could make out her confused expression. ‘It is pleasurable for you.’
‘Just for me?’ he asked, because for some reason that hurt somewhere in his ribs.
Cameron tilted her head a fraction. ‘It is pleasant for me to complete my programming,’ she offered.
‘See, that’s why this can’t work!’ John grit his teeth as hard as he could, then responded: ‘You’re supposed to feel something too, and not because of some programming.’
Cameron frowned. ‘What you experience is a result of biological code programmed by millions of years of evolution.’
Fuck, he must be tired; that actually made sense. ‘Look, there’s one way to fix this.’ He sat up and tangled his fingers in her hair - so soft - and pulled her to him - hard - kissing her - deep. He broke them apart by force, wrenching her back.
‘What do you feel?’
Cameron’s eyes were wide and … something else. Unsure? Afraid? ‘The pressure of your hands and your mouth.’ John closed his eyes and almost pushed her away, but then she continued: ‘I feel… I do not have sufficient vocabulary. Content and fervent simultaneously. Endorphins and adrenaline. Neurons lighting up-‘
John kissed her firmly to shut her up. And then again…
John eventually felt himself falling asleep, once he’d explained to Cameron that he liked soft and slow better than hard and fast, and her kisses and caresses became light and lingering. Cameron, of course, stayed wide awake, so he wasn’t worried about his mother doing one of her random patrols.
He fell asleep without realising it (obviously), waking up the next day to find his bed empty, except for him (obviously).
*
‘I do not have rules for this,’ Cameron confided in him the next night, as they lay on their backs, outside on the lawn at night, with her naming each constellation and asking him questions about the motivations and emotions of the beings in the myths associated with them.
‘I don’t think we need any,’ he replied and Cameron rolled sideways to face him.
‘I am fond of you, John Connor,’ she said, her voice perfectly even.
He laughed, and fixed her hair, pulling out a piece of grass and tucking it behind her ear. ‘Yeah, well, I’m a bit fond of you too.’
*