|posted on 24-Oct-2002 11:16:14 PM by Nickeldime|
|Title: Sentient Companions|
Category: M/L, AU
Disclaimer: Roswell isn't mine. ( I don't know what else to say...)
Summary: Nope, can't think of one.
Author's Note: Don't be harsh. In all my short-stories, I've never written POV. As it is, so far only the intro and conclusion will be Max's POV, all parts inbetween will be third person omniscent.
Welcome to Roswell, artificial intelligence advancement hub of the world. We went from being the laughingstock of the U.S. as alien capital, to being hailed as saviors of Earthian life once contact was made.
Yeah, I know it’s screwed up.
Now, I don’t really remember any of that, mostly because I was born A.C. (after contact), but I do know Roswell as it is now. It’s still small, but we get all the newest technologies from the Antarians (those are the nice aliens). In exchange for their gifts, we help them against their ongoing war with the Khivarians (the mean aliens).
But that doesn’t effect me or you at the moment. What does effect us is getting you around town. So we’re taking the panoramic route. (insert explanation of “main street”) You’ve got Mrs. DeLuca’s Herbal, psychic, whatchmacallit Shop over there, the Sheriif’s station, the UFO museum, some more shops, Chez Pierre, Senor Chow’s, etcetera, etcetera. Then we have the suburbs and a whole bunch of desert. Big fun.
Just outside town is the Eagle Rock Military Base, now used as the A.I. Headquarters. That’s where all the sentient companions are manufactured. If you don’t know what SenComs are, I’ll explain.
They’re basically human. They have all our basic functions, programmed emotions, yada yada, except theyt don’t have a whole lot of free will. Most of the kids in Roswell, as well as the rest of the world, have them. They’re designed to be the perfect partner.
Mine’s coming toward me right now. See the teen on the skateboard? The one with the baggy jeans, layered shirts, and the short brown hair? The boy?
No, she's not a boy.
That’s Liz, aka Pixel (‘cause she’s one of the smallest people I’ve ever seen. Seriously, she’s tiny.)
Lives: with me
Magnus. Did I mention that’s my nickname? (We all have them, our whole gang. It made it much easier to play pranks if we talked in code.) Liz gave it to me when we were little. My name (Max) is derived from it. It means king or superior or something… Anyway, it sounds cool.
We don’t say anything more. She just tucks her board under her arm and walks with me. That’s the cool thing about Pixel, she doesn’t expect a lot from me, I can just not talk, and it’s fine. What other girl would let me get away with that? Answer: None. Why? ‘Cause Pixel isn’t like other girls, she’s practically a guy…
Eventually we stop and go into the Crashdown Café. Or friend, Michael, his parents own it. (They serve real food, not that pill crap my mom gives me for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.) He and his SenCom have to work there on weekends. Luckily, it’s only Thursday.
Pixel and I join our usual group (I should probably introduce you). The guy with the spiky hair is Michael (alias: Byte). The fidgety blond girl next to him is his SenCom, Whirligig (real name: Maria). The other two blonds are my sister, Isabel (pseudonym: Matrix) and Kyle’s SenCom, Tess (called Diskette). Then there’s Matrix’s SenCom Alex, we call him Chip though (his brain’s wired like a super-computer. The guy’s a frickin’ genius!). And rounding out the group is Kyle (Gizmo).
“To Max!” everybody choruses as they raise their non-artificially flavored cherry cokes, “We’re gonna miss you!”
Did I mention I turned 18 today? No? Huh, must have slipped my mind… I’ll be shipping off for Antar on the morrow, for who knows how long. All men have to go to a training camp once they turn 18, I’m the first of our group to go. If I like military camp, I may join in against the Khivarians. Who knows…
Chip, Matrix, Pixel, and I head home after a couple hours. I have to finish up some packing (Yes, I know procrastination is bad), and leave Pixel with some last minute orders so she doesn’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.
“Be good for my parents,” I tell her. (She’s got a problem with authority.)
I look at her closely, she sounds sad. “What’s wrong, Pix?” I ask. She looks up at me, and I’m alarmed to see tears in her eyes.
“I don’t want you to go.”
“Aww, Pix,” I say, dumping my pack on the floor and hugging her. “It’s just a year. I’ll be back before you miss me.”
“I miss you now,” she murmurs into my chest. I pull back and stare down at her. I’ve never seen her like this before.
“It’ll be fine, Pix. Now, get some sleep.” I give her a playful shove onto her bed next to mine. She lays down, head cuddled into her pillow, watching me as if her entire world was going to end.
She’s still wearing that expression as I get on the shuttle.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Can I please get some feedback? Just to know if it's interesting enough to continue.
[ edited 2 time(s), last at 10-Dec-2002 3:11:06 PM ]
|posted on 26-Oct-2002 6:00:04 PM by Nickeldime|
|Thank you roswellluver for your feedback! You rock!|
All right, this part will be totally different from before, I'm getting back into my usual style of writing. I was in the hospital when I wrote the introduction, so I wasn't completely myself...
The war was over.
More than half a century of fighting the same battle, and it was over. He stared out the window of the shuttle, watching the stars he had fought in for four years pass by at faster-than-light speed.
He was a decorated war hero, given the highest rank an Earthian soldier had ever earned at the hands of the reborn King Zan himself. And now he was going home. Away from the life of luxury he had gained on Antar and back to small town Roswell, New Mexico. But truthfully, he was glad to be going home.
A smirk crossed his face and he took a folded up piece of paper out of his uniform’s pocket. The writing on the letter was neat and delicate. It was about the only thing Pixel ever did that was feminine. The post-script at the bottom of the letter was the same as it had been since her first letter: “When are you coming back to me?”
He had lied to her that night before he left. A year, he’d said, she wouldn’t have time to miss him. He shook his head and folded the letter back up, slipping it into his back pocket. A year of training had led to another year of advanced training, and then three years in combat. The Antarian cause had been one he found worth risking his life for, so he had stayed.
Pixel hadn’t understood, but she supported his decision. But her letters had dwindled from every day to every week, to every two weeks, to a month…
When Kyle and Michael had come to camp, he had been their training officer. They had had some laughs, and some deep conversations. Kyle kept hinting something about Pixel, but Max had never been able to figure out what exactly he was getting at. Michael would sit by, smirking, and tell him that he was in for some surprises when he got home.
They had both gone back to Earth within two years. Kyle because he couldn’t stand the sight of blood and bodies floating out in space among the debris of Khivarian fighter jets, and Michael because of an injury that even the Antarians, with their vast technologies, couldn’t fix. Though Max suspected Michael hadn’t let them try. He was just anxious to get back to Maria, who had begun to send amusing, threatening letters that he better get his butt back home or she was coming up there.
The streaks of light outside his window began to become more interspersed, and he knew the shuttle was slowing down. He leaned forward, face pressed eagerly to the plass, waiting for his first glimpse of Earth in five years.
His breath caught in his throat, a lump forming as he held back his tears. There were times in the past when he had wondered if he’d ever see it again, and now here he was, on his way home. It was almost too much…
He waited on the shuttle as all the other passengers raced to get off. When the cabin finally emptied, he stood, dusting off his pants, and then grabbed his duffel. It was the only piece of luggage he had. All his clothes and belongings had been left at his parents’ house when he left for Antar, the standard issue uniforms were provided once he was at camp, and he’s never worn anything else since.
His first breath of non-recycled air was like smelling the finest cuisine the Antarian palace had ever served. It was dusty and pure, and fresh as all heaven.
Flinging his bag over his shoulder, he moved toward the station, out of the direct sun, and he waited. As he waited, he watched. All the passengers, some civilians, some soldiers he had fought with, rushing into their family’s arms, whooping for joy… A smile etched its way onto his stoic face and he continued to gaze around.
A girl, woman really, caught his eye. She stood alone, straining on tiptoe, looking and looking. She’d walk away for a few minutes, searching the crowds, and then come back, fidgeting impatiently.
She was petite, slender, and the clinging pink dress she was wearing showed gentle curves in all the right places. Her hair was a dark, rich brown that fell shining, straight down her back, where it ended in soft curves just before her knees. It was hair a man could tangle his hands in as he kissed her…made love to her…
He shook his head, clearing away the thoughts. He hadn’t been with a woman in two months, and the way this one was acting, she more than likely was waiting for her sweetheart. But he still watched.
After awhile the station cleared out of everyone except the two of them. It figured his mom would be late, she was a little scatter-brained, but he felt bad for the girl. She stood, shoulders slumped, looking vulnerable and lost. He wondered if her boyfriend had told her he was coming today, or if she waited at every disembarkment in hopes that he would.
She turned toward the exit, and therefore, towards him, brushing her long hair out of the way. Their eyes met and a shock of recognition went through him at her large brown eyes. A smile lit her face, and then she was running, throwing herself into his arms.
Max pulled away from the tight hug and stared down in amazement at the upturned face of the woman. “Pixel?”
TO BE CONTINUED...
Please leave me feedback!
|posted on 10-Dec-2002 8:04:23 AM by Nickeldime|
Thank you to everyone for the bumps, Unit 2 should be up either later tonight or tomorrow!
Also, to Pixie, Subterfuge, and marteloise: The SenComs were designed to be best friends to their partners. It's hard to explain, but they're not entirely human though they act like it. They can be programmed only by their partner, that's why Liz acted the boy for so long, Max didn't need a girl friend. I'll try to explain it in more detail as the fic progresses, just know that they aren't SenComs are not meant to be "lovers" to their partners, merely friends. If that's confusing, just tell me and I'll try to explain it more.
See ya tonight (or tomorrow, but probably tonight)
|posted on 10-Dec-2002 2:11:48 PM by Nickeldime|
He followed her, unable to form a coherent word, just staring in awe as she chattered about the dinner his mother was preparing for the welcome home feast. “It’s real food, Magnus,” she told him, twisting her head around to smile at him, “Real chicken, real mashed potatoes, real corn, even real broccoli!”
He gave her a weak smile, he hated broccoli, but his mom never managed to remember that small detail. And plus, it was all he could manage. She was gorgeous, and her smile was somehow able to take away his will power.
Pixel’s smile grew, and she stopped walking to throw her arms around him again. “I’m so glad you’re home,” she murmured, her breath sweet against his skin. But before he could hug her back, she was tugging insistently on the arm holding his duffel. “C’mon!” she urged, pulling him toward an old Jeep.
“I can’t believe you still have this,” he finally managed to say, grinning as he threw his bag into the back of his old vehicle. It was a classic, and he was happy to see it, however inefficient and old-fashioned it was since the Antarians shared their technologies.
Pixel gave a laugh, one that made him stare at her yet again. It was a feminine laugh, a very seductive laugh, a very, very dangerous laugh… “It’s yours, silly. Your mom did want to get rid of it though, when it stopped working, but I managed to fix old Bob up right and proper. She gave the Jeep a fond smile and a pat before hopping into the driver’s seat.
Max watched as she went about what was obviously her routine. She swept her hair to the side so as not to sit on it, smoothed out her dress, and started the car. Max got in, expecting her to put the car into gear, but she didn’t. He looked at her impatiently, anxious to be home, but then he was again hypnotized.
She was braiding her hair. An act that was, all in all, not really interesting, but with Pixel…The fading sunlight lent a golden glow to the long, dark locks, bringing out a myraid of blondes and reds and black. He felt his jaw drop and his head tried to berate him for the bad thoughts he was thinking.
This was his SenCom. His best friend. She was not a girl.
Her braid finished, she tossed it behind her back and looked to him as she down shifted. Their eyes met, and she blushed. “What?” she asked, her voice low and husky.
This was wrong. Pixel didn’t talk like, like that. She didn’t blush. She didn’t wear dresses. She didn’t act like a girl. It wasn’t right. It was wrong.
“What happened to you?” he demanded, his voice strident. He winced and looked down at his lap as she pulled out of the station and headed toward town. That had come out wrong.
“What do you mean?” she asked, and he could hear hurt in her tone.
“I mean…You’re, um, you look…different.” He risked a glance at her, just as she looked at him. Her large brown eyes were confused. “It’s a good different,” he amended quickly, “But, um, it’s not really how I left you…And, um…yeah…” He looked away, wondering how this had gotten so screwed up. He was a General on Antar, he’d made political addresses, morale speeches…Why on Earth couldn’t he talk to one, simple SenCom? And his SenCom at that. The one person in this universe who had been made for him, to be his best friend, his confidant.
What he wouldn’t give for his ship and his controls, and maybe a Khivarian fighter to blast into dust. He sighed, things were so much simpler in war.
“You told me to be good for your parents,” she reminded him.
“Yeah.” What did that have to do with anything?
“Your mom said I had to start acting like a girl and not like a hooligan boy with a skateboard, so I did.”
“Oh.” So, this was his fault then. It was his fault she was beautiful. His fault he was so confused. That just so figured.
There was silence in the car for a while as they drove down Main Street. Max perked up, looking around his home town, remembering all the good times and mischief he and his friends had stirred up.
He chuckled silently to himself as he remembered the day Michael had dared Pixel to board her way across town tied to Deputy Hanson’s patrol car. They had been thirteen and reckless, and the prospect had been hilarious. Pixel had done it once she had gained permission from Max, and while he had distracted the deputy with innocent questions about how serious an offense popping the giant alien balloon on top of the UFO Museum was, the rest of the gang had tied her to the bumper of the police car.
It had taken Hanson nearly an hour to figure out what was going on, and that was only because Sheriff Valenti, Kyle’s dad, had signaled him to pull over. The Sheriff had given the group of laughing teenagers a stern talking to, but they had seen the twinkle in his eye and knew he wasn’t being serious. He was never serious if the pranks involved Pixel. She just smiled up at him, eyes wide and guileless and informed him that Kyle had dared her to (whether he had or not), and luckily, this got them all off the hook. Valenti was very lenient where his son was concerned, especially since the divorce.
But those times were gone. They were no longer children, no longer innocent. And he felt a heavy burden come down on his shoulders as Pixel stopped the Jeep. The house was looking old, the years he had been gone seemed obvious as he looked at all the changes to his home.
Pixel led him by the hand, weaving in and out of the multitude of travel vehicles parked in the driveway, up to the front door he had burst in and out of for 18 years of his life. And, as the door opened, and the greetings of all his friends and family met his ears, he realized he and Pixel and the house weren’t the only things to change.
Not by a long shot…
The next part should be out quicker because I know what's going to happen in it. Thanks everybody for staying with me!
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