[The words slip out unbidden, as if they had a life of their own. Carl wasn’t like that, he had supported him for years, had allowed him to grow as a person before he even knew he had that potential. Even in this world — a place where no one would know Carl Manfred’s name — Markus refuses to give even the smallest tinge of a wrong impression.
Still, this is a raw wound. This is something that he’s pushed past because events dictated it, but never had time to grieve the loss. Still doesn’t. And in a human mind, where filters are diaphanous things at best, compartmentalization is hard. Better to skate over the explanation in a generalized way. Better to not delve too deep into memory; healthy way of coping? Probably not. But it’s how Markus chooses to deal with it.]
He was supportive of me. Allowed me to think and grow. He’d even let me help him with his art, sometimes.
[He misses that sunlit studio. He realizes that now, a useless, ancillary thought.] But he died. After that, I had no one but other androids like myself to lean on. [Markus tries to find a way to nudge the subject forward, his intent never meaning to incite… pity. Results are mixed.]
Love is a motivator that incites change. So is loss.
no subject
[The words slip out unbidden, as if they had a life of their own. Carl wasn’t like that, he had supported him for years, had allowed him to grow as a person before he even knew he had that potential. Even in this world — a place where no one would know Carl Manfred’s name — Markus refuses to give even the smallest tinge of a wrong impression.
Still, this is a raw wound. This is something that he’s pushed past because events dictated it, but never had time to grieve the loss. Still doesn’t. And in a human mind, where filters are diaphanous things at best, compartmentalization is hard. Better to skate over the explanation in a generalized way. Better to not delve too deep into memory; healthy way of coping? Probably not. But it’s how Markus chooses to deal with it.]
He was supportive of me. Allowed me to think and grow. He’d even let me help him with his art, sometimes.
[He misses that sunlit studio. He realizes that now, a useless, ancillary thought.] But he died. After that, I had no one but other androids like myself to lean on. [Markus tries to find a way to nudge the subject forward, his intent never meaning to incite… pity. Results are mixed.]
Love is a motivator that incites change. So is loss.