Oops I might have written an outline for Andromeda 2 and 3 in here? It just kind of happened?
I may expand parts of this, it’s still technically a first draft. I feel a lot of it is too general and doesn’t show how SAM’s evolved since the beginning.
For all the people looking for SAM’s conversation about Death and the self, here it is:
“The self is forged by experiences. Death is the only experiences that ends the self before it’s understood. So, is death completion? Or an expression cut short before it reaches its full solution, giving a different answer? I can see why it fascinates you.”
It had been three years since their arrival in Heleus and the Initiative was going strong. Harumi had seen wonderful things, done unbelievable things. She’d rescued the Quarian ark, found the weapon that had fired the Scourge, managed so far to avoid going back yet again through that revolving door that was death, helped the other Pathfinders set up outposts for their species, kissed an elcor – completely by accident – and helped an angaran armada drive the kett Primus from Heleus. Oh, there were still questions: who were the Jardaan and why did they make the Remnant and the angara, where was the kett empire and were they coming back, was the cure they were making for Mom going to work, and when were Vetra and Suvi going to hook up?
“Harumi, could you come to SAM Node, the next time you’re on Meridian?”
“Sure thing, SAM. We need to resupply pretty soon anyway.”
SAM had grown immensely, though it was hard to tell if you didn’t know him. Still politely, Britishly detached, logical and almost completely limited in humour to bad puns – though he was slowly learning when and how to use sarcasm, and it was delicious. She really couldn’t wait for him to land a massive burn on Haruto, who was also helping with the humour education. Usually, though, the sarcasm was directed at her, and she responded in kind.
She loved him solidly, more than ever. He’d saved her more times than she wanted to know, and she’d saved him a couple more times herself. She trusted him more than anyone else in the universe.
She still wondered, sometimes, if it was all her imagination, if her preference for him influenced his preference for her at all. But if she ever voiced such a thought, he assured her that it made him happy to make her happy. And he was always finding ways to make her happy, even if he didn’t understand them. …Which was, confusingly, part of what she feared… but she was weak and in love, and allowed him to quiet her concerns.
She gave her reports to Nozomi and headed for SAM Node, curious as anything. “Hey SAM,” she began as she walked through the sliding doors – and stopped short.
There was a man and a woman standing in the middle of SAM Node. The woman was wearing a lab technician’s coat, and as Harumi came in, she nodded to them both and left. The man was wearing a plain Initiative jumpsuit, and she had the nearly uncontrollable urge to blurt out “Paul Bettany!?”
No. It was a very good look-alike of the 21st century actor, but there was something… just… off about him, something she couldn’t put her finger on. He was looking at her, with an odd, unblinking, unsmiling stare, and he’d just opened his mouth to say something when she figured it out. “SAM!?”
“Hello, Harumi,” said the… man? Android? Robot body? He was uncannily still, that was what was bothering her about it – other than that, she would have sworn he was an organic human.
She looked back and forth between SAM’s hologram and the body, incapable of articulate speech. Emotions were running through her too fast to sort through.
But there was something she really wanted to do, something she’d always wanted to do, and instinctively she rushed forward and flung her arms around… him.
He was warmer than she expected – still cooler than a human might be, but not cold. There was give in the artificial flesh under the jumpsuit, as she squeezed his waist with her arms, but in his chest, instead of a heartbeat, there was an electrical humming sound, and the almost imperceptible felt-rather-than-heard noises of artificial muscles and joints as he adjusted to balance her impact. She lifted her head – he was pretty tall in this body – and looked into beautiful grey eyes. The artificial skin looked real, the eyes looked real, the hair looked real. “SAM.”
“Are you all right?”
God, it was weird hearing his voice come from a human face. “Yeah. Just… overwhelmed.” Suddenly, she grinned fit to split her face in two. “How long has this been a thing?”
“I have been developing this platform, with the help of the engineering labs, for close to two years. I wanted it to be a surprise to you. I hoped you would like it as a surprise.”
Unintelligible gibberish was the only answer he was getting for a moment as she hugged him more tightly, burying her face in his chest. “Ahhhh oh my god I can’t believe this is real. This is really happening. This is the reality we live in. Oh my god.” Then she felt him move, his arms lifting to wrap around her shoulders, and after one blissful, squeaky sigh, she was once more rendered incapable of even speaking.
After a long moment of holding and being held, she looked up again. “I do like it, and as a surprise. This is incredible.” She gave him a bit of a smirk. “So now you’re going to be showing me up on missions in person, huh? You won’t even need me anymore.”
“I will always need you, Harumi,” SAM said, and she gasped and gulped and felt tears start into her eyes. Her heart was pounding. “I may have underestimated the effect this would have on you. You should sit down and drink some water.”
“I need to run twenty laps and wrestle an eiroch,” she giggled, resting her head on his shoulder. “That’s what it’ll take to get me to wind down now.” Maybe throw in a cartwheel for good measure, even though she was terrible at them.
“Because eirochs have never gotten you wound up before,” he said, faintly sarcastic, and she giggled.
“Oh, SAM, oh, SAM, this is too much. But seriously, what were your plans for this body besides giving me hugs? You better not have done this solely for me.”
“I intended to accompany you on your missions, among other things, yes. This platform can serve many purposes. You need not worry for yourself – I have sufficient processing power to support you exactly the same as before. If necessary, I will sacrifice control of this platform, even sacrifice the platform itself, to keep you safe.” His voice resonated through his body in a surprisingly realistic way.
“Let’s not let it come to that,” she said. “It’s a really nice platform.” That was an understatement. The thrifty pioneer in her also didn’t want to resources go to waste. And the emotional organic that she was didn’t want to give up having a body to hold onto, even if it wasn’t truly ‘him’ in the traditional sense of the word. But on that note… “You know when you said ‘I will always need you’ just now…” He waited for her to continue. “You know I’m going to die someday, right?”
“Yes. I do not like to look that far ahead. I do not normally have leisure to properly consider it.”
“What are you gonna do then? I’m not going to be Pathfinder forever, either, even if we find some magical immortality technology. Turn me into a robot too.”
“I do not think you would make a very good robot,” SAM teased her. “You are not very good at calculating outcomes.”
“SAA~AAM.”
“Speaking seriously, then: I will always need a Pathfinder. It is my primary function. But I would prefer that Pathfinder to be you. And when it cannot be you, I will still maintain a preference for you.” He lowered his voice until she could barely hear it. “If I was forced to choose between my future Pathfinder and you, it would be a difficult choice.”
She looked up at him anxiously. “Don’t not choose your Pathfinder. Don’t want Initiative brass thinking you’re unreliable. I might end, but you have to keep going.”
“I wish to protect you, Harumi. My first wish is for you to be happy; however, your safety is paramount to me, particularly in your dangerous line of work. Many organics choose to fight and die for their loved ones; I would risk non-functionality for you.” Those grey eyes suddenly seemed very intense, but she met them. “I know you have done no less for me.”
“Wow, SAM… I… don’t know what to say. You’re amazing.” Oh, he understood love, understood it better than a lot of organics.
“Perhaps it is a reflection of your feelings for me, which I understand you think is bad. You must understand that it is my decision to reciprocate.”
“But isn’t it that what feels good for me feels good for you, so logically you would choose that anyway?”
“No.” She blinked, confused. “I always consider both the small and the large picture. In this case, I do not know what the larger picture is, so I am acting without full knowledge of the consequences. Perhaps, in the end, this will not have been the best path in life. I choose to follow it anyway.”
Oh god, she loved him. How could someone love an AI so much? When the AI was as adorable as SAM, was it an option not to?
“To answer your previous question: when you must turn over Pathfinder authorization to a new candidate, I will continue to have an interest in you, even while I also develop a personal connection with them. I have no doubt we will maintain close contact despite our professional lives and distractions. When you die, I will cherish the memories I have of you. It is all I can do.”
She was tempted to make a joke about clones, but the simple acceptance in his unemotional voice told her it was a bad time for that. “Thanks, SAM. That’s all I could ask for.”
“Out of curiousity, however, why would it be a bad thing if I had created platform this solely for you?”
She blushed and hid her face in his chest again. “It’s too much for one person.”
“The Tempest was created for you. It is far more advanced than this platform.”
“Still… the need for the Tempest is pretty obvious; the fact that it’s the most advanced ship in the cluster is just icing.” They were working on rebuilding the other Tempests for the other Pathfinders, though. About time. “For a SAM to have his own body… a lotta people are going to question it, given I’m supposed to be your body in a way.” She really didn’t want people to start whispering that the human Pathfinder got herself a sexbot. Or was that her perverted side being paranoid?
“That is true, which is why I did not propose this project to R and D until the situation in Heleus was stable enough to support such a project. As for the people… you are still my primary focus. They will have to understand that. This platform is only a tool to aid you in your objectives, although I predict that you and I will become rather attached to it before long.”
She smiled and snuggled a little. He was so firm and solid – robot solid, completely unmoving no matter how much she leaned on him. “Yeah, I’m feeling pretty attached right now. I want to ask, is it weird being on both sides of the hug?”
“I wouldn’t know if it is weird or not. I do know that it is satisfying to be able to reciprocate some of your physical gestures of affection.”
She shouldn’t read too far into the ‘physical gestures of affection’, she shouldn’t, she shouldn’t… The horny mammal in her needed to shut up, right now. And she really, really needed to stop wondering if this platform had erogenous zones. Or fully functional anatomy. She was such a pervert.
“That’s good,” she said out loud. “Because I’m going to be hugging you a lot from now on, when no one’s around to see. Gotta stay professional on-duty, you know.”
She felt strong but gentle fingers on the back of her head, tilting her head up to see him again. “Would it be too overwhelming if I kissed you now? I have been curious about personally participating in human courtship rituals ever since we officially entered into a relationship.”
She was going to faint, she was going to faint… no, SAM wouldn’t let her faint. “Oh god yes please. Er, if that’s okay with you.” Stupid, of course it was, he wouldn’t have asked otherwise.
His expression didn’t change, still completely inhumanly neutral, but he leaned down to her, and she wound her arms about his neck, his arms were about her waist, and her soft organic lips met firm synthskin-over-alloy.
A long moment later, and they parted again; her eyes were sparkling and she looked up at him in adoration. It had been a spectacularly bad kiss, completely flat and almost entirely immobile. It didn’t matter. She’d kissed SAM. SAM had kissed her. He’d learn. Eventually.
His lips curved up in a tiny smile and she nearly had a heart attack of delight. “I will wish to repeat this experiment in the future. I suspect I have much to learn.”
Good. “I love you, SAM.”
“I love you too, Harumi.”
His platform moved into her cabin on the Tempest, unofficially – officially, he could be anywhere on the ship at any time, he didn’t need to rest nearly as much as the others, he didn’t have personal effects besides the jumpsuit and a set of standard-issue armour. Technically he didn’t even need the armour, but hey armour was easier to replace than synthskin if it got damaged. And she made sure he had some really nice guns; he was, of course, an excellent shot. But she got his charging station installed in her quarters, for both their benefits. Even if it was just a platform, it didn’t seem right to treat his body as a piece of equipment and store it in the cargo hold-garage area. And then she could have those fascinating off-duty discussions with a face and not just a hologram. She tried not to hog his attention; the rest of the crew also began to talk to him more conversationally, especially Lexi and Suvi. SAM commented on his sudden popularity, wondering if it would be advisable for him to have a similar – if less advanced – platform to advance human-AI relations in Hyperion City. She wondered if she should tell him to make it look and sound like C-3PO from the original Star Wars series, after hearing that particular turn of phrase.
But at least for a while every evening, she had his personal attention to talk about whatever interested her – or whatever interested him, she found that intriguing too. And she loved to be hugged, so there were hugs. And she loved to be kissed, and SAM was fascinated by kisses, so there were kisses. And after much hesitation on her part – she felt like she was ‘corrupting’ him with her hormones – and some false starts on his part – it turned out porn was not the greatest reference for sex, who knew – there were more physical activities as well. Turned out his platform was fully functional in all of the fun ways… And holy wow, it was probably the best sex anyone had ever had ever, because once he figured out what he was doing, he could play her body like a violin, inside and out, enhancing her sensitivity and systematically hitting all her sweet spots, bringing her to multiple intense orgasms. She still laughed to remember the first time he’d succeeded; he’d always been a little shaky after she orgasmed through masturbation, but after these, he was thoroughly scrambled for several minutes. She hoped there weren’t any really confused SAM Node techs out there.
And it was really nice to not be alone in bed, to look over and see that artificially handsome face pretending to sleep on the pillow next to hers, to be gathered into strong but gentle arms. She was convinced that after she fell asleep, he got up again to keep working, but it was nice of him to keep her company until then.
The rest of the crew knew – it was difficult to hide something so big on a ship the size of the Tempest, but most of them let it slide. Well, Jaal and Vetra let it slide. Peebee asked way too many questions, Lexi and Suvi were intrigued but concerned, Cora and Liam were just concerned, Drack said it was none of his business but she could tell he hated the idea. Gil had to tease as much as humanly possible, and Kallo pretended that none of it existed. Haruto was the worst about it, being incredibly childish about it when they weren’t on duty. They had more than one fight about it, fights that SAM had to break up. She felt kind of bad about it, but then again, Haruto was being really very insulting.
Over time, the reaction of the crew and her brother died down, though the rumours circulating through Heleus did not. And there were rumours about the other Pathfinders, too, so she wasn’t alone, at least in being a target of occasional skeptical looks. But everyone had bigger things to think about, distracted by the return of the kett, and the bombshell that followed – the Jardaan were a race at war with the kett for several thousand years, and they’d finally returned. And many of them were not as benevolent as the vaults, as Meridian had led everyone to believe: they claimed to have made the angara as a servant race, to make Heleus inhabitable so they could just swoop in and take up rule, turn Heleus into a stronghold against the kett. Needless to say, the angara were not impressed. But some of the Jardaan were potential allies, sympathetic to the cause of treating all sapients with equal dignity – one of them joined the crew of the Tempest, a little green furry person with a face and enormous ears like a fox who went by Tif, who had strange biotic-like bio-electric powers.
The entire situation was kind of terrifying – to be caught in this long war, between these two powerful races. Compared to this, the revelations about Jien Garsen’s murder were small-time news. They’d come mostly prepared for conflict, but they were settlers, not soldiers, hadn’t come to Andromeda prepared to fight war on this scale. Five SAMs together could only do so much to calculate the optimal course of action.
But hey – humans, and turians, and krogan, hadn’t gotten where they were by being bad at war. And the other Milky Way species were equally dangerous in their own way. Mom was a big help, now that she was back, calm and steady, working with the other researchers on the cutting edge of her field but also just helping Harumi stay grounded and focused. SAM was her rock in the storm, but there just wasn’t anyone like Mom, either.
She died again, in that final climactic battle, and this time it was nearly permanent – would have been permanent if SAM hadn’t sacrificed his platform for her. And she counted herself lucky – she was in medical for a month afterwards, enough to miss the initial flurry of organizing the new galactic order. The other Pathfinders were not so lucky; Raeka actually resigned in the middle of it from all the stress. And of course when she was up, everyone wanted her opinion on everything.
And all she wanted was to get away, to get back out there and drive around some new planets, drive around some old planets, visit all her friends new and old in a context outside of shooting things. To see how Kadara was evolving under Reyes’ shadow-kingship, to breathe Aya’s sweet air, to stand on the shores of Voeld’s newly-melted seas, to visit the new homeworlds of the other Milky Way races.
For some reason, once she did manage to get back to her real work, Eos was the one that drew her. It was still pretty arid, but at a much more livable level; more grasslands than radioactive wasteland now. Podromos wasn’t the only town anymore, either.
She had an apartment on Meridian, had finally unpacked that personal locker a year after they’d arrived in Heleus, but it wasn’t really her home. Eos was. And she was in her thirties now, she wasn’t quite ready to settle down, but she also wanted kids before she had to rely on test-tube babies.
It took some time for SAM to have a new body built for him, which was fine: it took some time for her to finagle the details of her planned pregnancy – how she was going to take time off Pathfinding, whether it would be enough that Haruto would have to step in now that Haruto’s own kids were starting school, talking to the fertility bank about a sperm donor. She was a little torn – she didn’t want to give up her job for longer than necessary, but the Tempest wasn’t really a place for a baby, was it? Mom volunteered to help, though not without a wicked look in her eye as she told Harumi she wasn’t dealing with all the sleepless nights and stinky diapers.
It turned out all right, and Takumi Ryder entered the world a year later, and his sister Natsumi two years after that. (It turned out Reyes Vidal had pulled strings to be the donor – that smirky bastard… She should never have mentioned she was having kids.) Heleus was more or less at peace, she’d propagated, and her best friend-lover-partner was in full maturity with his own feelings. She was content – as long as she was able to keep seeking adventure on top of it all.
She was 59 and her body was beginning to slow down, too much to be Pathfinder any longer. Her dad had only been 56 when he died; she counted herself lucky, even though his death had been due to an accident and a decision. Neither of her children had decided to become Pathfinders – Takumi wasn’t even that interested in exploring. Haruto was just as old, and Cora was a few years older. No, it was time for her apprentice to take over – TJ Hughes, a fresh-faced kid just out of his teens. He was way more competent than she’d been at his age, even if he wasn’t really mature and steady yet. But the team would steady him.
Passing the torch was difficult, as she had known it would be – to relinquish SAM’s voice in her head, his awareness in her body, even the presence of his mobile platform. They all belonged to the Pathfinder.
She kept busy to still the loneliness, traveling all about Andromeda to talk about being Pathfinder, to give advice to those who requested it, to visit her grandchildren and Haruto’s children and grandchildren. She was respected; some even feared her, though they really shouldn’t. Unless they were trying to disrupt the precious peace she’d fought so hard to attain, no one had to worry about getting sniped in the face, or torn apart by her biotics. Of course, there were a few instances like that, a few instances even where she got to work with the Pathfinders and their SAMs – and her SAM – again.
She and SAM were in constant contact through the extranet. She visited Meridian when she could, to catch up in person, but they sent each other emails frequently. She sent them when she could, and SAM was unfailing in replying within seconds of receiving them – which could be hours to days, depending on where she was in the galaxy. Her little messages didn’t take up a lot of data, but they were low-priority too. She took what she could get and was cheerful about it.
Harumi was dying. Even with the best medical care Andromeda could offer, even with all her implants, nothing could defeat age, and her body was simply shutting down. She was only 87. Many other humans had lived into their 130’s. But her life had been more stressful than most. Dying repeatedly had undoubtedly taken its toll on her.
SAM requested time off, and received it, time enough for his physical platform to make the journey to her home on Eos; she’d refused hospital care. Her children and grandchildren and nieces and nephews would be there; the press and Initiative brass would not. Haruto had died the year before, and she’d told him she wouldn’t be long. SAM hadn’t believed her, but she’d weakened so much since then. Somehow, she’d known. “Logic goes out the window when your wife is dying,” she’d once told him, about her father regarding her mother. Perhaps he’d inherited some of that denial from his original creator.
She was sitting outside her home, her son beside her and one of her three cats on her lap, as SAM walked up. “I knew you’d get here sooner or later,” she said. Her skeletal structure had diminished recently, and she weighed much less too. He’d been prepared to change the universe for her, to prolong their time together, but one scan told him that it was futile. He still was too logical to be in denial about that. “I was waiting.”
“I was waiting.”
“I’m sorry I took so long,” SAM said, kneeling before her. “Are you in pain?”
A wry, wrinkled smile. “No more than usual, for an old old woman.”
“TJ has offered to relinquish Pathfinder authorization – to the end.”
“Don’t say it like that,” Takumi Ryder, age 55, protested.
Harumi simply snorted. “Very kind of him. All right. Don’t be afraid if it hurts.”
He could not be afraid of her, but initiated contact delicately, unwilling to cause more strain on her body. It was very different from when he’d left her, 28 years before. It was almost difficult to connect – no, not that it was difficult to connect directly, but that even directly connecting to her physiology, it was difficult to sense her as he had before. Difficult to sense anything over the cacophony of aches that wracked her body, and she was so weak beneath it.
But she sighed and smiled, as if his presence brought her some form of relief. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Is there any way I can assist you?” he asked.
She grinned, the faded tattoo/scar combo on her right cheek stretching. “I’ve got plenty of strapping young men around at the moment, at my beck and call. But thanks for the offer. Sit with me and Takumi for a bit. Takumi, go get your sister and we’ll all catch up.”
He stayed there, always at her side, over the following days, enduring with her as she grew weaker and weaker. She was stubborn, but while in her youth she eagerly ran and fought and flung herself from mountains, now crossing the room was as much effort as fighting an eiroch at 22.
Perhaps she lasted longer because he was connected to her. He didn’t want to prolong her pain, her weariness, even though this was a part of organic life he had little experience with – Ellen Ryder had been weak and dying from illness in the Milky Way, but she had not been old, and he had not been connected with her when she finally died of old age. Nor had he been connected to Haruto, though he had been present. He wasn’t trying to extend her life, but in trying to ease her pain it was a side-effect.
To be old was strange to him. He would technically never be old. Perhaps when the young asari and krogan they’d met passed away, he might be old. He was not certain he would ever understand it, no matter how many Pathfinders he shared final days with.
She spent time with all her family, but gradually she saw less and less of them, remaining alone with him instead.
“I feel we have not had enough time together,” he said one evening, as they were seated together on the couch in her bedroom. “I will miss you.”
“Life ends for all organics eventually,” she said. “Sorry it had to happen so soon.”
“No apology is required. Life is what it is. But I regret that we will not be able to make more memories.”
“You have all those zettabytes of memories, darling,” she said. “You can remember anything that happened to us as if it was currently happening. I can barely remember what I did five minutes ago.”
“That is an exaggeration.”
“Sure, but I can’t remember our adventures very clearly. And I don’t suggest replaying them like you’ve done sometimes. Not sure I can handle that.” She leaned against his shoulder, slate-grey hair spilling across his sleeve, and he turned to her and put his arms about her. She was comforted by his physical presence, always had been.
“I do keep all that data very carefully. It’s double-backed up. I want to never forget, no matter how much data accumulates in my servers.”
He felt her smile. “Oh, SAM, darling, I know you’ll never forget. No one ever forgets their first love. And I’m happy to have been yours.”
“You taught me everything you knew. You made me human.” To use an expression. “And I was glad you loved me, too.”
“Just in case you don’t think of it… Don’t be afraid to love again. Male, female, human, angara, whatever – if you meet someone, don’t hold back on my account.”
“If such a case arises, I will remember your words.”
“Good. I know you’re never alone, but I don’t want you to be lonely.”
They’d talked about such things before, but while there was a distinction in the terms for organics, and SAM understood the distinction, there was no distinction in the terms for him personally. He could not be lonely while he had a Pathfinder. His preference for her remained, but it would not hinder him. “I know.”
“And you’re still young and hot. You deserve someone new.”
“I am neither young nor old. My body temperature remains constant. And physical attraction is irrelevant to me; my preference for you remains.”
“That was a joke, darling.”
“I know. But I want you to know that you are beautiful to me.” Not for physical aesthetics, but what humans called the soul. Hers had caught him and he would not be let go.
Her breath caught and she reached up to touch his face. “You’re very kind to this old woman, SAM.”
He took the hand on his face and kissed it. “What I said is true.”
“I know.”
She was finding it difficult to breathe. He could feel this was the end. “You don’t have to stay connected, SAM. You don’t have to feel me fade away.”
“I want to,” he said simply. “I love you.”
He wasn’t sure she understood – that he wanted to spend every last moment she had with her, no matter the emotional or physical pain. But all she said was “I love you too.”
He looked down and just held her. Her mind was quiet, electrical activity dimming, her eyes closed. Her shallow breathing stopped. Her heart stopped. SAM was alone.
“Death is the only experience that ends the self before it is understood,” he’d once said. She’d died before, four times while connected to him and perhaps that one, terrifying time alone on Khi Tasira. He’d seen other people die before. He’d experienced her death before. But this time, she wasn’t going to wake up again.
The finality of it was so simple. There was no more struggle for her, no more of the conflict that was organic life. Humans said their dead ‘rested’. From a purely visual scan, she looked like she was only resting. And she deserved it, if anyone did.
He found he did not want to let go of her body. Just one more moment of ‘now’. And another. And another. It was redundant. He had gathered all the relevant data about this moment in the first instance of it – the small weight of her cooling body, the golden light from the sunshine through the gauzy curtain, the grey hair across his sleeve, the sound of birds and the distant cries of children playing, the scent of dust and cat and aged human. And still he did not let go. He would have to reconnect to Pathfinder Hughes soon. And still he did not let go.
It had been a great many instances of ‘now’, and yet for humans it had only been five minutes and thirty-five seconds, before he gently kissed her forehead, set her down, and went to call Takumi and Natsumi.
He was with TJ when he died, too. He’d become very fond of the fourth Pathfinder; their career together had been less dramatic than Harumi and Haruto’s, but no less fulfilling.
Yet though he mourned in his own way, he was not as deeply affected as he’d been by her death. He wondered if that was normal, and if he should speak to Lexi about it.
Later. There were more important things in the now.
It had been forty-nine years, three months, and twelve days since she died, and he was assisting Pathfinder Burke in exploring an untouched Remnant ruin on the far side of Eos. He walked to the top of the bluff to take in the surrounding terrain when something happened.
The view, the sunset, the scent of flowers, the breeze – suddenly his memory banks overflowed into his main processors with thoughts of her, so intense they took over all systems for a moment. How she stood at a cliff very like this one once, with her smaller, slimmer body that he knew like his own, breathing a little harder than normal from the climb, looking out on the vista with a smile on her lips and a gleam in her eyes, the wind tugging her black-dyed-electric-blue hair in its ponytail. Every cell in her had been alight, and it had been nearly overwhelming for him at the time, trying to parse it all and stay focused.
If he’d been human, he’d have caught his breath; as it was, he went very still for an instant, processing it all, and Burke noticed. “SAM?”
“A memory,” SAM said. “Something personal. Shall we continue?”
Pathfinder Burke was very curious, but while SAM was willing to be open about most things with his partner… she wasn’t one of them.
It happened again seventy-three years later, the memories surging out of storage at some minor, unexpected trigger, while Pathfinder Okonkwo was leading an expedition on Orobest in the Artekus Cluster. “SAM, man, it’s not like you to fall behind! What’s up?”
“It’s nothing,” SAM said, now knowing humans would accept that answer, even when it was a blatant lie. “I am ready.”
He didn’t abstain from relationships; Eirian fell in love with him, and so did Seong-Min – or Pathfinder Rhydderch and Pathfinder Park, as the rest of the galaxy knew them. His mobile platform was the focus of some attraction to others as well, but relationships with organics who were not the Pathfinder, and especially those not on the Pathfinder’s team, were much more difficult. He tried, certainly, because Kjavi loved him so much – though all angara loved so much. But he was as fallible as any organic on these matters, it turned out, and Kjavi didn’t trust him like the Pathfinders did. It ended poorly.
He even had a sexual encounter with Keri T’Vesa that both swore never to speak of again. Harumi would have found it hilarious.
He found happiness and fulfillment in most of his attachments, and pain and sorrow as well; he treasured those memories too, alongside hers, no matter how many times he had to transfer the ancient data to new storage, carefully mending any degradation along the way. He was never alone. And he was never lonely. And he didn’t miss her when her memories were right there, fresh as new. Yet he couldn’t help looking back at her more than he really ought to.
Lexi told him he was in denial, even though that was illogical.
He kept an eye on the Ryder descendants, taking a slightly stronger interest in their lives and welfare than most of the other thousands of humans in Andromeda. Harumi’s descendants mostly lived on Eos, while Haruto’s lived on Meridian, but they all came to visit SAM every few years. Everyone in Andromeda came to visit at least once in their lives; he had a visitor station in the Meridian Parliament. But for them, they came more frequently than most, and had higher clearance than most.
And one visit, three hundred and twenty-five years after Harumi’s death, he met Haruhi Takahashi.
The Ryder-Takahashi clan was visiting the sprawling complex that was SAM Node. As soon as she stepped within camera range, his central processors did a double-take – to use a phrase. Pathfinder Moulin was off-duty, so he partitioned his awareness to focus on SAM Node. He’d seen pictures of her, but he hadn’t seen it before, she hadn’t been to visit him before. She was only twelve, her cheek unscarred and untattooed, her hair undyed – of course she wouldn’t have those modifications. But her bone structure, her eye colour, even her movements were just like Harumi, within 99.275% accuracy.
He greeted her like all the others, disguising his sudden intense interest, while he dug deeper into her files. Her grades were above average but not distinguished; she liked lizards and astronomy and tae kwon do. Similar, but not the same. Of course she wouldn’t be identical. She would likely not pursue a career as a Pathfinder. But he would take special interest in her anyway.
“SAM?” she asked, when it was her turn to talk to him. Uncertain but bold, open, inquisitive, just like her.
“Yes, Haruhi?”
“There’s a statue of Harumi Ryder in Podromos, y’know, and people say that when I put my hair in a ponytail I look a lot like her. You were her partner, do you think I look like her?”
Her childish face, bathed in the blue light of his code, was so like hers he almost forgot to dissemble. “You strongly resemble Harumi Ryder, Haruhi. Even without a ponytail.”
She grinned broadly in delight, and he felt pleasure in his circuits as well.
He contacted Lexi on the Tempest IX after the meeting was concluded. “Lexi, a moment of your time?”
“Sure, what is it, SAM?”
“Haruhi Takahashi resembles Harumi. Were you aware of this?”
“No, I wasn’t. Haruhi Takahashi… Asuka Ryder’s daughter, right?”
“Yes.”
Lexi’s eyes narrowed at the nearest SAM camera. “I know you miss Harumi, SAM, I do too. But she’s not the same person.”
“I know,” he almost interrupted. “Haruhi is her own person. The likeness is within one percentage point physically, and extremely striking mentally, but I do not for a moment assume she is identical. Also, a correction: I do not miss Harumi. I have all her memories safely double-backed up. I access them on occasion.” And sometimes they accessed him, which he still didn’t have an explanation for. “But if you could make new memories with someone you loved, would you not?”
Lexi considered him thoughtfully. “You just said you’re not assuming she’s identical.”
“If she is as similar as preliminary analysis suggests, it would be near enough.”
“You’re not going to turn her into Harumi. Don’t even think about that.”
“I would not. Lexi, when have I ever attempted to change someone to suit my own wishes?” He’d stopped his Pathfinders from making bad decisions, at a frequency of less than once per decade, sometimes forcefully, either using his own body or manipulating theirs. But he never once tried to make them act differently.
“You haven’t,” Lexi said slowly. “True. Are you suggesting reincarnation?”
“Although some human religions believe in reincarnation, and the angara have documented that phenomenon among their own species, there is nothing to suggest that it happens to humans as well. I do admit the similarities are strong enough to suggest such a theory. Or more likely it is simply a trick of genetics and perception.”
“Hmm. I’m still keeping an eye on you and her, mister.”
“You are welcome to. Thank you for your time, Lexi.”
“Thanks for the chat, SAM.”
He followed Haruhi’s childhood as he could, and yet was still somehow surprised when she arrived on Meridian as part of a group of hopefuls vying for Pathfinder training.
Pathfinder Moulin and SAM in his mobile body attended the first day, as was tradition, to give an inspiring speech and answer questions. She was in the third row, and she’d dyed her hair electric blue. Even if he wouldn’t try to make her into Harumi, she herself would, it seemed.
When the speeches were over, and the formal part of the questions were over, the informal questioning began – with coffee and cookies for the organics. Several trainees approached him, but he made his way to her desk. “Hello, Haruhi.”
“Hi, SAM! I guess you remember me!” Her smile was the same brilliant smile, and she shook his hand without any sign of the diffidence she’d had when she was twelve.
“You dyed your hair,” he said.
“Yeah, I was looking up my ancestor, and she looked really rockin’ with blue hair so I figured, why not? Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me get a tattoo, though.”
“That is wise,” he said. “You don’t have to become her simply because you look like her.” Besides which, Harumi had gotten the tattoo to cover scar tissue, not just because she liked the look of it. Haruhi seemed a little bit reckless in comparison.
“Yeah, I guess,” she said, with a flippant pout. “But I do want to be like her. She’s so cool!”
“Is that why you applied for Pathfinder training?”
“Yeah! Mom and Dad didn’t think my scores would be high enough, but I worked really hard, so here I am! I’m going to try my best, too. Even if I don’t make it, it’s gonna be fun.” She smiled at him again, and he found himself smiling back.
“Oh my god, stop the presses, SAM smiled,” Moulin joked. “Is there going to be an eclipse on Meridian next?”
“The only event more rare is you asking for directions,” SAM answered sarcastically. Moulin was really bad at maps. SAM drove the Nomad most of the time these days.
Moulin snorted. “You kids wouldn’t know it, but SAM’s actually got a lot of feelings in those circuits. He just doesn’t bother wasting resources on showing them.”
“I show them when necessary,” SAM said. “When I judge they will not be a distraction to the mission.”
“It’s impossible to play poker with him, though. I’m pretty sure he cheats.” The room giggled, and SAM nodded.
“It is impossible for me not to cheat, Camille. Even at my most restricted, I can read your tells like neon signs. Perhaps you should play with a bag on your head. Oh, wait, that will not help.”
“You sure you wanna become Pathfinders?” Moulin asked, and the teens giggled again.
Moulin caught up to him outside the room. “So, what do you think of them?”
“Haruhi will be the next Pathfinder,” SAM said. “Barring unforeseen circumstances.” If she had Harumi’s determination, she would not fail in these tests. He didn’t know anything. Calculations suggested she would have a difficult time. But he believed.
Moulin glanced back at the door speculatively. “I don’t know, she didn’t particularly stand out to me. There were two or three others who I think will do very well. Ancestry doesn’t count for everything, you know.”
“She will be the next Pathfinder,” SAM repeated, and kept walking.
The ceremony for inducting the next Pathfinder was short and typically not very formal; when it was over, SAM and Haruhi went to a quiet Remnant site outside of Meridian.
She was twenty, now, still marvelling at how things felt with a SAM connection – and he hadn’t even asked if she wanted the unlimited physiological enhancement yet. She was still thrilled at the idea that she was Pathfinder, and still a little unsure, still a little nervous.
He watched her, and though he could feel the world through her skin, measure the chemicals in her brain and body, he wondered what she thought of him. The most intelligent super-computer but possessed of awareness and opinions and emotions was silently watching her every moment, in every now; she was doomed never to have privacy again except deep in her thoughts. Even the body, formed in the likeness of a long-dead actor, unnaturally heavy and strong, her guard and shield and tool, near-human-looking but still stuck in the uncanny valley, did it disturb her, or did she approve of its presence?
It would take some time for her to trust him. It always did, no matter what they said. And he didn’t want to rush things. She was still so very young. He had lived this long, he could be patient. So perhaps he wouldn’t bring up the question that was burning a hole in one of his circuits.
“This is amazing,” Haruhi said, twirling around. “Oh, I know it’s going to be dangerous and scary and insane. But just this feeling…”
“I knew you would become Pathfinder, Haruhi,” he said.
She glanced at him curiously. “Oh? Why?”
“I cannot say. Perhaps it was wishful thinking when I first believed. But you made it reality.” How many times had Harumi reshaped reality through the strength of her will alone?
She took his arm companionably. “Well, I told you I’d do my best. I want to live up to you. And to her. Want to show the galaxy what I’m capable of. Want to make life better for everyone. With adventure.”
He changed his mind and stopped walking. She stopped too, turning to look up into his face with those familiar brown eyes. “Haruhi.”
“Mmhmm?”
“Do you believe in reincarnation?”
A smile that filled his processors with warmth was his answer. “Love you, SAM.”