m-findlow.livejournal.com

Title: A mind of metal
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto Jones, Lisa Hallett
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 819 words
Content notes: Spoilers for Cyberwoman
Author notes:  Written for Challenge 145 - Metal
Summary: A look inside the mind of the cyberwoman

He was back again, she thought. Almost like clockwork he came to see her the same time every night. She couldn't help but half wonder if there wasn't something mechanical inside him that brought him down here at the same time. The thought faded quickly as he began his procedures. They were similar each night, but always a little different. It wasn't the robotic precision that she expected, because he always interspersed it with little things that made her doubly sure he was human.

She let some of her programming take over during those moments when he wanted to exchange words with her. She accessed the data banks in her mind, searching for the right things to say. It turned out there were some advantages to being only half converted, though she railed at the injustice of that thought. At least this way she knew what to say to maintain her cover. Had she been fully converted, the data banks would have been completely erased.

As it was, she still knew her old name, she knew his name, and she knew why he kept coming down here. The rest was easy. There were dozens of memories she could dip in to, telling her how to react to each question. How was she feeling? A bit better today than yesterday. How were the medications affecting her pain levels? They were right for now. In truth, there was no pain, and every day felt the same as the one before, but she had data available to tell her how to act out the various responses required.

She needed to get stronger, but so far they hadn't made much progress. She could remember her former self's feeling of frustration. If she had emotions, she suspected that was the correct one to be feeling. But things would hopefully change soon. He discussed bringing in an expert. Yes, that was what she needed. She had the data to fix herself but needed someone with a higher level of understanding to execute the commands, not this useless creature. Try as he might, he wasn't clever enough to fix her, or just too gutless to take the risk. She'd rather die in the attempt to be free than to live like this for the remainder of her days, in this repulsive half human form.  She needed someone else. But until then she had to bide her time.

He was pathetic, but she still needed him for the moment. He'd pulled her from the wreckage and prevented her from her partially converted form understanding that the programming was incorrect and shutting down. That was the failsafe built into all of them. At the first sign of something wrong, their systems were automatically set to purge the data. Let them be melted down again and start over. Not this time. She had enough processing strength to override the default mechanism and instruct him on setting up the system that was keeping that piece of code at bay. With more help and more equipment, she would restore herself to proper function and continue her mission.

She watched him carefully as he operated around the room, still not understanding why he bothered with so many pointless tasks. There were flowers and photos next to the machine, of him and the woman whose body she'd taken over. He'd take a damp cloth and wipe down her exterior every day, telling her about his day. He would sit there and clasp her hand for hours, talking mindlessly about things she didn't care about, or reading from books. She could feel the warmth of his hand penetrating the disgusting flesh, and heating up the metal circuitry underneath. It made no sense to her, trying to keep it warm. Her circuits would operate perfectly fine regardless of the added temperature. It served no purpose. If anything, her systems functioned better when they were kept at a consistently cool temperature, making this dingy basement perfect. Her keeper didn't seem to agree, and she would watch his pitiable figure huddling under thin blankets on the atrociously small cot in the corner of the room, shuddering during the nights from the cold while he slept.  

Once she was strong enough again, she would fix him. Not out of any sense of gratitude, for she felt none, but simply because she was the supreme form and all forms should be optimised. She would take from him all those contemptible emotions that had lead him to make so many egregious mistakes, and replace them with the cool, calm, clarity that came from sophisticated circuitry and superior metal bodywork. All of the flaws would be superceded by precision alloy mechanics. He would be a work of art, if she could have appreciated such things. He would be the grand prince of her queenly monarch of metal, and together they would start rebuilding this world in the name of the cybermen.