Fic: Brothers
May. 16th, 2012 04:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jedi_of_urthTitle: Brothers
Author:jedi_of_urth
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Characters/Pairings: John Cavil (One), Daniel (Seven)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 369
Prompt: Something involving Family
Summary: A moment between One and Seven, two very different machines/brothers.
Disclaimer: BSG isn’t mine
Author's Notes/Warnings (fic): LAS fic, pre-series fic but spoilers through most of the show
Author’s Notes (flashback): Originally written May 2011. I want to say this one did okay, but I can’t remember for sure. I like it though, so that’s always a good place to start.
Seven’s fingers dance across the piano keys as I watch. At every turn he seems to uncover some new artistic talent and now it’s piano. Our creators gave him that ability, but now they praise him for it endlessly, as though they are surprised by their creation.
As he finishes the piece he’s playing I applaud slowly, if he notices the sarcasm he doesn’t let on as he turns to smile at me. “What are you after John?” As always he insists on using the human names our creators gave us; as if it will make us into humans.
“Just passing by,” I say with a casualness I don’t feel. I have a purpose, I have to have a purpose otherwise I am no better than a human but my purpose now is to appear purposeless in the eyes of others. It will keep them from guessing my plan until it’s too late.
So, instead, I step towards the piano. “How do you do that?” I say, indicating the piano, as well as around the room to encompass the other instruments he played and the artwork Seven created himself.
“Come on, let me show you,” he says and moves to the side so I can sit next to him. He moves his fingers easily across the keys but my own forced attempt is much less elegant. To a true machine the movements would be easy, but bound by a biological muscular, skeletal, and nervous system I can’t make the movements as I know I could. “Just try John,” he adds gently.
He doesn’t suspect anything. Guileless Daniel could have no suspicion of my plans, he is too concerned with his art and his music. Soon I will be rid of my troublesome brother and I will teach our parents the folly of trying to make machines believe we are human. Humanity is exactly what we shouldn’t be.
I start to poke at a few of the piano keys. It’s toneless of course because I don’t have the programming for music and art. But what our creators denied me in artistic expression they left me in cunning creativity. And I do rather like the poetry of what is to come.
Author:
jedi_of_urthFandom: Battlestar Galactica
Characters/Pairings: John Cavil (One), Daniel (Seven)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 369
Prompt: Something involving Family
Summary: A moment between One and Seven, two very different machines/brothers.
Disclaimer: BSG isn’t mine
Author's Notes/Warnings (fic): LAS fic, pre-series fic but spoilers through most of the show
Author’s Notes (flashback): Originally written May 2011. I want to say this one did okay, but I can’t remember for sure. I like it though, so that’s always a good place to start.
Seven’s fingers dance across the piano keys as I watch. At every turn he seems to uncover some new artistic talent and now it’s piano. Our creators gave him that ability, but now they praise him for it endlessly, as though they are surprised by their creation.
As he finishes the piece he’s playing I applaud slowly, if he notices the sarcasm he doesn’t let on as he turns to smile at me. “What are you after John?” As always he insists on using the human names our creators gave us; as if it will make us into humans.
“Just passing by,” I say with a casualness I don’t feel. I have a purpose, I have to have a purpose otherwise I am no better than a human but my purpose now is to appear purposeless in the eyes of others. It will keep them from guessing my plan until it’s too late.
So, instead, I step towards the piano. “How do you do that?” I say, indicating the piano, as well as around the room to encompass the other instruments he played and the artwork Seven created himself.
“Come on, let me show you,” he says and moves to the side so I can sit next to him. He moves his fingers easily across the keys but my own forced attempt is much less elegant. To a true machine the movements would be easy, but bound by a biological muscular, skeletal, and nervous system I can’t make the movements as I know I could. “Just try John,” he adds gently.
He doesn’t suspect anything. Guileless Daniel could have no suspicion of my plans, he is too concerned with his art and his music. Soon I will be rid of my troublesome brother and I will teach our parents the folly of trying to make machines believe we are human. Humanity is exactly what we shouldn’t be.
I start to poke at a few of the piano keys. It’s toneless of course because I don’t have the programming for music and art. But what our creators denied me in artistic expression they left me in cunning creativity. And I do rather like the poetry of what is to come.
