Man and Machine

So it's come to this.

Brin didn't want it to come to "this." "This" was bad. "This" was very very bad. When she'd joined the Sentinels, she'd been aware that it might come to "this," but had dared to hope that she'd be spending her time doing things other than "this." Doing "that" was fine, preferably by herself, and not with "them," because she wasn't good with people, and preferred to do "that" alone. But now she was doing "this," and doing "this" meant that she wasn't going to be alone.

"Move it Brin!"

She swallowed and kept her face down. She hated "this." Even more than she hated Captain Agendy. She knew it wasn't good to hate people – you shouldn't hate people – and after all, she-

"Brin!"

She let out a cry and dropped the ammo box. Glancing around furtively, she saw some of the other Sentinels give her looks. Contemptuous looks, pitying looks, amused looks…

Please stop looking at me.

She put her face to the ground as she heard the steady sound of Agendy's footsteps.

Please don't come, please don't come. She began rubbing her hands together.

Have I washed them?

"Brin?"

Dirty. Too dirty. Haven't washed them.

"Brin?"

Dirt, everywhere. Have to be clean. Orderly.

"Look at me Brin!"

She took a breath and slowly levelled her gaze to meet Agendy's. Just making eye contact made her eyes water.

"Do you have any Shaper-forsaken idea what you're doing?"

She nodded, putting a hand to her chin. Partly to stop it from fidgeting, partly to stop her head from falling down back to the ground.

"Do you really?"

The ground was nice, Brin reflected. The ground didn't look back at her. The ground didn't judge her.

"Look at me Brin."

Ground here's clean. It's mostly dirty.

"Brin!"

She let out a yelp and forced her gaze to meet Agendy's again.

"Well?" Agendy asked.

"We're…" She swallowed – her eyes were burning, her nose was running, and her feet felt like they were on fire. "We're stockpiling ammunition."

"And why are we stockpiling ammunition?"

"Because…" She managed to keep eye contact, but now both her hands were fidgeting, like a pair of grabbits fighting over a corpse. "Because the ammo is gonna be transported north?"

"And why north?"

"Because…" She stuck her hands in her pockets, lowering her gaze slightly. "Because Antium is…is…"

"Is?"

"Doing…this?"

"What's this, Brin?"

"…"

"I'm sorry?"

"War," Brin whispered.

"That's right," Agendy said, putting a hand on Brin's shoulder. She fought the urge to scream.

Stop touching me.

"We're at war now," Agendy continued. "The Freelancers have poked the Dominion in the eye so many times-"

Stop touching me.

"…that now the Sentinels are marching north." He lifted his hand off Brin's shoulder.

Oh thank you.

And began to pat it.

Please don't!

"Course, that leaves me with the question of what to do with you," Agendy continued. He took hold of Brin's shoulder again and began to lead her through the hangar, past Sentinels that Brin glanced at – Sentinels that were pretending to get on with the job, but in reality, were all glancing at her. Enjoying the show.

"What should I do with you Brin?"

She began to breathe heavily – not only was Agendy still touching her, he was leading her.

"I mean, you were always a good scout, but the northern front's too volatile for someone like you right now…"

She nodded.

"So…" Agendy sighed. "Alright Brin." He reached into his pocket, drew out a piece of paper, and wrote something on it before folding it. "Take this to Freelancer Yarrow."

He held it out to her. Gingerly, Brin took it – she didn't like touching things that other people had touched.

"Think you can handle it?"

She nodded.

"Answer me, Sentinel."

"Sir." She rose her gaze to meet Agendy's, however briefly. "Sir yes Sir."

"Good. Now get out of here."

She nodded and hurried out of the hanger. Trying to keep her pace steady, but failing. She needed space. She needed to breathe.

Needed to get away from the snickers that were following her.

I'll show you.

She liked to tell herself that. One day, she'd get her own Javelin (somehow), and show the Sentinels (somehow) that she could handle herself (somehow). That was a lot of somehows, and she knew it, but one should dream big, right?

Oh crap.

Dreams went down the latrine. Out of the hanger, she was in the streets of Fort Tarsis. Yarrow was only two blocks away. Problem was, those two blocks were filled with people.

Really want that Javelin now.

Antium was at war. That war was far to the north, but supplies had to get there somehow. Everyone in Antium had to do their part, Fort Tarsis included, and that meant her. So if that meant braving the people and getting to Yarrow…

I can do this.

She took a breath, and looked down at the ground.

Just keep moving. You know the way.

She began to walk through the crowd.

I can do this.

She shivered as she felt the people brush up alongside her. Bumping into her. Touching her.

I can do this.

She quickened her pace.

I can do this.

She bumped into someone, who stumbled.

"Sorry!"

The man regained herself. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Brin yelled.

"Kid, I just said-"

"I'm sorry!" She sprinted past him, this time bumping into the man with enough force to send him falling to the ground.

I'm sorry.

There was one advantage to sprinting, in that it got her through the throngs of humanity faster. It did mean that a lot of people gave her looks, and yelled at her, and made them smell funny (or did they smell funny anyway?), but it allowed her to find Yarrow much faster.

"Yarrow!"

He was sitting there, under an awning. Looking like he didn't have a care in the world. How people couldn't have a care in the world, Brin didn't get, because even if they weren't at war with the Dominion, the world was messy, noisy, dirty-"

"Brin?"

…dangerous, hot, wet, windy…

"Brin?"

She looked up at him. She crunched the paper in her hands, folding it over. Twice. Three times. Four times.

"Hello?"

No. She had to stop folding. The more she folded, the longer it would take for Yarrow to read. And the longer it would take for Yarrow to read, the longer…well, it could mean the difference between victory or defeat. Agendy had given her the note. It had to be very important information. So in the knowledge of carrying such, well, knowledge, she skipped over across the street, ignoring the complaints of passer-by's, and took a seat opposite the Freelancer.

"Hello Yarrow," she said, smiling.

"Hi."

She managed to make eye contact. Yarrow was a Freelancer. Sentinels didn't like Freelancers, because they were rowdy, chaotic, and didn't respect authority. But she liked Freelancers. Or at least, she liked Coda, who'd been nice to her. Therefore, she supposed she could like the other Freelancers. And Yarrow seemed nice enough. Like Agendy, he was old, but unlike Agendy, he was kind.

"Do you…have something for me?" Yarrow asked.

Brin nodded.

"Y'know, while I'm technically unretired, I'm only on an advisory role, so there's actually much higher people to talk to, not to mention-"

She stuck out the paper, hoping that when Yarrow took it, he wouldn't touch her hand or fingers. Yarrow was nice, but he wasn't clean. No-one was clean.

"Thanks…"

Why does no-one take the time to stay clean?

Even out in the wild, away from people, Brin managed to stay clean. There were all kinds of herbs and oils out there, and plenty of water. It took an awful lot of scrubbing, and it made her feel very cold as the water and wind washed over her body, but still, she was clean.

But that didn't matter. The message mattered. She watched as Yarrow unfolded it. Because he wasn't looking at her when he read it, that made it much easier for her to look at his face. She could see his eyes dart. Could see his lips turn into a frown.

"Yarrow?" she asked.

He put the paper down on the table. "Well done Brin. You did good."

"Yarrow? What did it say?"

"It said…look, it isn't something you should read, okay?"

"Tell me Yarrow!" Her voice was louder when it should be, and under the table, her hands were fidgeting, and she was knocking her legs together. Thankfully, Yarrow couldn't see that.

"Brin…" He sighed, and pushed the paper over. Gingerly, Brin turned it over, and read what was on the page.

Yarrow,

Find something for this girl to do, because she's driving me nuts.

Agendy.

She sat there. Just looking at the words.

"Brin?"

Words didn't look back. Words didn't judge her.

"Agendy being an arse again?"

Words were just words. Words…She took a breath, and began to count to ten. Words didn't hurt her. Sticks could, stones could, but words were just words.

"Look, he doesn't mean it. I mean, you're a good scout Brin, but, well, we're at war now, and it's too dangerous to be out in the field without a Javelin, and-"

"It's not fair," she whispered.

"Yeah, I get it. I mean, you're a smart kid, and-"

"It's not fair!" She yelled, thumping her hands down on the table.

Tantrum. Mustn't have tantrum.

"It's not fair!" she yelled again. "I…I try, okay? I try, and I try, and I try, and it doesn't work. People…I don't get people. They…they don't make sense. I…" A lump was forming in her throat, and her eyes were burning. "I don't want to be like this. I want to be normal. I want to help, but I can't now, and they won't let me help, and I know I'm weird, and different, and that it drives people nuts, but…I try, okay? I try, and it doesn't help! Doesn't help! Coda…Coda helped, but she's gone, and I know I'm meant to dislike Freelancers, because I'm a Sentinel, but the Sentinels aren't nice, while you guys are, and it doesn't make sense! I…I wish I was a machine, Yarrow! Machines make sense! Machines are clean!"

Are they clean?

She began to calm down, taking slow, steady breaths. She laid her hands on her lap, rubbing them over her trousers.

"You done?" Yarrow asked.

She closed her eyes and nodded.

"Right," he said. "Well, first things first, the question you have to ask yourself now is whether you run back to Agendy and give him another tantrum, or you stick around and help me with something."

She opened her eyes. "Second," she said.

"Brin, you don't know what that something is."

"Anything…" She took a breath. "Anything would be nice."

"Right…" He paused, before saying, "but before you do any of that, you've got to give me a promise. Can you do that?"

She nodded earnestly. She could keep promises. She was good at keeping promises.

"Promise me that you never wish that you were a machine."

She blinked, and not just because eye contact was hard (though all things considered, eye contact with Yarrow was easier than it was for many other people).

"Brin?"

"I…promise?"

He sighed. "Listen, Brin – you're a Sentinel. Far as I'm concerned, most Sentinels are glorified city guards with sticks up their arses-"

Brin laughed. Yarrow had made a joke. People laughed at jokes.

"…but you're…kind, okay?"

"Kind?"

"Kind," he said. "And from what I've heard, quite brilliant in your own way."

She looked down at the table. Yarrow had given her a compliment, but he didn't mean it. No-one ever meant it.

"I mean it."

Oh?

"Yeah, I mean, anyone that can stay out in the wild that long without a Javelin has got to be smart or insane."

She looked up at him again.

"Or both."

What does that mean?

"But about machines," he said. "Trust me, you don't want that."

"Why?" Brin asked. "Why don't I want that?"

She saw Yarrow look around. Because he looked around, so did she. She saw people. Lots of people. Too many people. But none of the people were looking at them, so why should they look back? It didn't make sense.

"Here," Yarrow said. He reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a group of pictures. "Images smuggled out of Stralheim.

Brin took the pictures in her hands, not caring that Yarrow had touched them. Pictures were fun. You could get a lot out of pictures, especially if they were based on symbols, or puzzles, or anything like that. But these pictures weren't like that. They showed a large city square, with an awful lot of people in it.

"Is this Stralheim?" Brin asked.

"Yep."

She peered in further. The people had their fists raised in the air – they looked angry. Happy, and angry at the same time. She went to the next picture, showing a hooded figure addressing what she deduced to be the same crowd.

"And is that…" She looked up at Yarrow. "Is that the Monitor?"

"Leader of the Dominion, and bigger jackass than any Scar or Sentinel? Yep. That's the one."

She looked at the Monitor. His face was shrouded by a hood, so she couldn't tell how he was feeling.

Maybe he's like me. Maybe he likes to keep himself hidden.

Or maybe not. If she'd gone up and addressed hundreds, no, thousands of people like that, she'd last barely a second before having to run off the stage.

She looked back at Yarrow. "They look angry."

"They do."

"They look like they're ready for war."

"They are."

She frowned. "But they look happy too? Why would anyone be happy for war?"

"Like you said Brin, people don't make sense."

She looked at the third picture. And her eyes widened.

It was the Monitor, as he headed backstage. How their operative inside Stralheim got this shot, she had no idea, but it showed the Monitor as he disrobed. The right side of his body, and all of his chest, wasn't that of flesh. It was made from steel.

"Cybernetics?" she whispered.

"Looks like it." Brin took the photo up close to her face as Yarrow continued talking. "We've always wondered how the Monitor lived so long. Some people suggested it was actually multiple people taking the same identity - certainly no Dominion prisoner we took was ever high enough to give us the truth." He paused. "Not until now at least."

Brin frowned. "Do you think this is Shaper technology?"

"Could me. Might explain why the Dominion's so big on Shaper artifacts if the technology is what keeps this bastard alive."

Brin, using the tips of her fingers, pushed the photos back to Yarrow. She felt dirty. She needed herbs and water. Just seeing the Monitor like that made her feel unclean.

"Still want to be a machine?" Yarrow asked.

She closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Good. Because as crazy and irrational as people can be, it's better than this."

"Or the Scars," Brin said.

"Or the Scars."

A silence lingered between the two of them, as Brin opened her eyes. She managed to meet Yarrow's gaze. For once, her eyes didn't water. She managed to fight the urge to fidget. To do anything that might show her unease.

"So," he asked. "Ready?"

She nodded.

That might have been a lie, and she knew lying was bad.

But right now at least, it was the truth.

A/N

So, original idea for this was to explore the idea that the Monitor is actually a machine, or at least partly a machine. Course I only have inclination to go on there (the name "the Monitor") but, yeah. That said, when I tried writing this, found I couldn't get it to work. Because we know so little about the Dominion at this time of writing, it was hard to give it a framework. Thus, I shifted it to Brin.

Now, granted, while Brin's been stated to be socially awkward, I will concede that she's unlikely to be this awkward in the actual game. Still, gave me a challenge to try writing for such an individual, so, um, yeah.