“Do you remember the first time you flew, J?”
“I… no. It must’ve been in product testing… Off-planet. I can—I don’t remember it.”
“Oh. That sucks.” Uzi’s eyes fell, shoulders sagging. “So… this. The murder drone stuff. Is all you’ve known?”
“Don’t pity me. I recall my first flight on Copper-9, if that’s what you mean.” J’s lips curled upward over sharp teeth—but there was something faltering in what once was a leer. “The roaring gunfire, the screams, the oil…”
“I—” Uzi’s words caught, and she leaned onto J. “Yeah, I remember my first taste of oil too.”
J smiled at that—it was steady. “Of course. I was there.”
“You—you made it less scary, somehow. It was all—confusing. But it would be okay. What that stupid thing you said? You’d handle all the paperwork.” Uzi shook her head. “And it was okay.”
“Better than okay. It made you strong, didn’t it? Focused, driven, oh so energetic.”
“That’s what I mean, yeah. It’s… I can’t help the thrill, you know? Every time, somehow. Fighting and feeding and flying away. Everything you showed me how to do.”
“Everything you’re meant to do.”
“But it’s bittersweet, you know? It burns. The chassis stitching itself back together, the hunger for more, and flying… I get so freakin hot trying to stay in the air. It’s exhausting.”
J was holding her—squeezing her. “But you keep working hard. That’s why I chose you.”
“I need it, I think. How could I stop—it’s power. Like I could do anything… if I just go a bit further.” Uzi sighs. Her hollow purple eyes and troubled smile reflected in J’s visor. “Just like flying. Up there, you feel the vertigo wheeling through your core. You see the whole continent stretching out to the horizon. Clouds drift away when you beat your wings, and every drone is just an ant beneath you. But you’re falling and falling and falling, so fast that the world blurs and I don’t know where I’m going with all this.” Uzi stopped for breath, and it became hot fog in the night air. “You feel like god up there. It’s so… fun.”
“I don’t,” J said softly. “It’s always been a means to an end. Satisfying, maybe, if I’m chasing prey. But on its own? My mind is elsewhere. Thinking about what needs to be done next. Or—not always so productive. Sometimes, sometiems I can only think about who I’m with,” she admited. “Your face, when you feel like god, your laugh, the way your tail wiggles… These pointless flights, the patrols that turn up empty… it still feels worth it, when you’re there.”
“Do… do you do that a lot?” Uzi asked, lines beneath her eyes. “Endure things you don’t like just because it’s what I want?”
J opened her mouth. Closed it, frowned. “That’s not what I meant,” she said.
“That’s not a no.”
“Fine. My turn. Remember our first night watching anime?”
“You called it juvenile slop and whined about all the characters until I bit you over it.”
“You did more than bite.” J looked away. “We both did. And then you stopped answering my emails, and— Did I tell you I cried? I suppose it doesn’t matter much, just animated pixels. But it kept— I couldn’t show my face to my squad that day. It was so ridiculous. All this, over a worker? But… I had to figure out why. I had a theory… but how? You were barely not worth scrapping. I didn’t care. I couldn’t!”
A tiny huff of air escaped Uzi’s vocalsynth before she’d closed her mouth and covered it with her hand. But it showed on her face, the rise and fall of her chest. She was laughing.
J twitched. “Stop that!” She sighed. “I had spent the next day writing an apology. Or not writing it. It took so much to bring myself to put down the words. But I finished it. And then I found you. And when you…”
“I kinda took pity on you.”
“You acknowledged and forgave me.” J gazed out into distance. “But still. I thought: I didn’t do anything wrong. I was just humoring you. So why did hearing those words make me feel like smiling?”
Uzi wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh, you had it so bad~”
“If you’re quite done interrupting,” she said. “Ever since that day, I told myself I would… be there for you. Be a good boss. As long as you did your job… I could clock out and humor you. But you… had such humor. It was fun. I realized I would keep watching cartoon and dressing like a deliquent. Ridiculous. I look in the mirror and wonder what I’ve become. Yet… it’s worth it.”
“…So you do get it.”
“What?”
“It’s. What I was getting at with the flying. A mushy-vibe-metaphor-thing. The first time I did it, I was panting my lungs out—I had lungs what the fuck—and I was sweating! But back then what felt like the worst part was feeling myself grin. This feeling in my chest, beside by lungs, like butterflies. Or maybe goopy gross butterfly cocoons. Point is, it told me that I would keep doing this till the day I shutdown for good. I would keep needing this. Even when it frickin hurts. Even when it feels like it might kill me.”
“You’re talking about me, aren’t you? Is it…” J seemed uncertain whether she wanted to continue. “Can you really say it’s a might, at this point? You—know me by now.”
And that’s when Uzi finally leans in completely. “I spent ten years, (maybe more it’s kinda fuzzy) with no one to hold me. I thought I didn’t need any of the gross pseudo-romantic stuff. It was all fake, or a bug in everyone else’s configuration that I was immune to.”
J sighed, a hand patting gently against her worker. “You were vehement the first time I suggested it. It almost ruined our partnership.”
“But I’m still here. I can’t seem to get rid of you. The first time we really cuddled… I realized this is it, all I ever wanted-needed. Lying there, belonging to someone, feeling them all around me. To just. Be embraced all the way, and hear things like it’s okay and I love you and know that—it’s true.”
Uzi curled into J.
And she was still talking, and J was still listening. “We touch like this and I want it to actually be the last time because I’m never ever letting go. And then I think no, we have work to do and honestly I can’t stand your murder breath for that long anyway and I need you to get out of my space and—but it’s still not the last time because no matter the mission or the arguments, we’ll come back together. Is… that too much? Should I shut up?”
And then J just pulled her in with both arms, spreading her sword-wings and then wrapped all the feathers against her back. Their tails entwined, and their faces pressed together.
Whisper: “Uzi? It’s okay. I love you.”
What could she say back? What would give J that some comfort?
“J… you’re so good to me. Thanks. And… I love you too.”