Human At Heart (Inspired by Deactivated_Steambot)

18: Lullaby

Rose's POV:

I didn't know what to expect when stepping into Christine's room. It felt almost wrong to be there as if I were violating something sacred. Yet I enter, with Christine in lead.

Christine's room is remarkably immaculate, albeit with subtle water damage. Left untouched by time, a room that once belonged to a real human. A bed with a faded quilt that must have been an array of colors, accented with a dusty old teddy bear. It may have been a white tone once but now it is a permanent gray. All the acquainted furnishings, now splintering wood. And a cracked mirror. A real girl composed of blood and flesh owned this room. A girl who had her childhood given to the likes of a machine, only leaving her hollow and empty. Yes, it certainly does feel wrong to be here.

As I turn, the light of my heart core illuminates a dull shine upon the vanity. I take a small step towards the vanity, realizing that it's a couple of dusty picture frames. Reaching out, gently clasping the corner to raise it. Using the fabric of my dress like a rag, wiping away the grime and revealing a sliver of a familiar face. Once completely clear, the frames reveal a photo of young Christine and another woman. Presumably, her Mother as they look very alike. Only, Christine had her Father's ivy eyes.

My eyes slowly shift to the second frame, my heart core skipping a beat. It is Father, Christopher Lannister. Little to my knowledge, Christine observes my interaction without ever saying a single word. I wipe my tears away before setting down the frame, facing it towards Christine's bed where it should be.

I find Christine sitting on the bed, staring at the floor. Her sleepiness is palpable, her time for rest is drawing near. Gentle as a machine could manage I take her by the hands, leading her to stand while pulling back the quilt and sheets. Guiding her to sit, allowing her legs to rock up onto the cushioned mattress where I drape the covers over her metal frame. Her head lay on the pillow, ivy eyes rise to mine. Her face may have been inanimate but her eyes conveyed her thoughts, she did not want to be left alone. Not anymore.

A soft tug is felt on my wrist, Christine whimpers. "Will you sing me a lullaby?"

Startled by the abrupt request, taken aback for a moment or two. Silently, I nod. Accepting her last request, with a sorrowful smile. Unsure of what compels me to do so, it simply felt right. A final gesture of good intention, a sensation I certainly wasn't accustomed to. Yet it felt right.

Sitting down on her bedside, taking her open hand into my own. I begin to sing the tune of my music box, low and delicately. All the while, her ectoplasmic life force fades away little by little. Leaving the mechanical skeleton to its original state. Her ivy eyes steadily lose their unearthly radiance, eventually boasting nothing more than their gray oculi. Christine has finally been laid to rest, peacefully. And as the last piece of respect, Rose places the little photograph of Christine with her mother in the metal hands and closes her lifeless optics. I know that it isn't Christine's body, but I feel that it is the most I can do now.

Alone now in the solemn bedroom, I begin to feel lost. I have never experienced death, human death. For automatons, we simply shut down. Humans are different, I myself am not a human yet I can empathize with Christine. Raising a hand to my cracked heart seal, covering it. For the first time, I am at a loss of how to feel. I want to cry, to crumble into a million little pieces yet no tears come.

My photo-receptors trail back to the metal skeleton, silently taking in. There was life here once, the life of a real human. Not composed of metal but flesh, a real beating heart. Now all that remains is the life she left behind, a love from a father that was never shown and a robot in her place. I don't belong here, not even in the first place. Yet here I am, in metal and wires. In the end, I realize that I myself like Christine, am human too. At the heart, at least.