Synth

GiDi stood waiting for the elevator, their arms crossed and their wings pressed tightly to their arms as they rapidly shook their leg. TO wasn’t surprised that they were still here since they had to wait for the elevator come back down to this floor.

“GiDi” they called out, hoping to stop GiDi from getting into the elevator should it arrive while TO was approaching. GiDi seemed to stiffen As TO called out; their shoulders rose, their wings puffed and their ears pinned back. The expression startled TO so much that their chair jolted to a stop. GiDi was angry and while TO knew that they were angry with them, seeing GiDi look at them they way they had Q10 or the Commander sent ice through TO’s veins. It had been their hope that GiDi would have relaxed a little over the last day since they hadn’t seen each other, but it was clear that wasn’t the case. GiDi turned around slowly, their arms crossed, their hands grasping their upper arms, their eyes narrowed.

GiDi had never looked at them like that and suddenly the idea came into TO’s head that they were too late to make things better, that whatever relationship they had with GiDi was entirely destroyed now, and would never get better. Still, they had to try. It took an extra moment for TO to will the chair forward once more, but it soon moved again and they approached GiDi. Looking up at GiDi, they could almost see why a person would be a scared of them. From this angle, their small friend looked actually intimidating, and somehow more angular: Dangerous. How odd that a simple shift of perspective could change things so dramatically.

“What do you need.” GiDi said, their voice cold and formal. TO had expected something more like “What do you want” or “I don’t want to talk to you.” Spoken in an harsh, snappy voice. While either of those would have hurt, they felt like it would have hurt less than the cold formal way GiDi spoke to TO now.

“Look.” They said, taking a breath as their mind raced to come up with what they should say. They had been so focused on catching up to GiDi in the first place that anything they planned to say had fled their mind. “I’m sorry.” They said, “I’m sorry for snapping at you the other day.” GiDi said nothing and simply stood before TO with their arms crossed, waiting, “I.. I should have told you that you did good, because you did!” TO continued. “Back when you... when all that happened…” There had been so much going through their mind at the time, guilt that they themself couldn’t come up with a way to solve the problem, fear from the idea that they might crash into the other ship, the possibility of everyone dying, It was all so much and while TO was able to remember everything properly they couldn’t parse what they had been feeling into a simple, understandable thought. “I was scared.” They finally said. It felt so thin coming from them now, but it was the only way they felt they could sum up everything they had been feeling.

“Scared.” GiDi echoed, giving them a cold, flat look. “Do you think I wasn’t?” They huffed and looked away “You acted like I didn’t care that we might all die: That Pearla might die. You don’t think I was terrified too?”

Their ears dropped, “I… I know you were-“

“You don’t know anything.” They said, “Not about me anyway.” GiDi huffed and looked aside, “And what, dare I ask, inspires you to say all this now?”

“I want to make things better!” They said. “I know I messed up, and I want to make it better somehow. I don’t want you to be upset!”

“Hmm, you’re not lying, but that’s not the full truth, is it?” GiDi said as their eyes narrowed. “Still, even if it was, you realize that you’re doing this now because of something you want, right?”

“W-what?”

“You don’t want me to be upset.” They scoffed. “And the only reason for that is because Pearla talked to you. She shouldn’t have talked to you: I asked her not to but she wouldn’t listen to me this time!” They huffed and glared at TO, “You felt bad after Pearla talked to you, after she told you why I was upset because somehow despite knowing me for so much longer than her, you couldn’t figure it out yourself! and now you want to make things right so you don’t have to feel bad about it anymore.”

“That’s not true!” They said, but the moment they said that they began to wonder if it was. Yes, they didn’t want GiDi upset. That idea of GiDi being upset with them made them feel sick but wouldn’t that make anyone feel the same? Anyone would want to make things better if they learned they upset a friend, right?

Why did the fact that GiDi was upset bother them? Well, that was simple: because they liked GiDi and didn’t’ want them upset!

No, that wasn’t quite it, was it? All they had been thinking of since this all came up was that they had to make things right so that Avery wouldn’t see them as a detriment to the pod, and wouldn’t tell them to leave.

Was their desire to make things right actually selfish?

“Here’s the problem.” GiDi said, still glaring at TO, “What you said would have meant a lot… if you had said it before Pearla told you to say it.” They looked away, their ears dipping, “You don’t really believe what you’re saying, you’re just doing what Pearla told you to do.”

“That’s not true!” TO said, “You did well! I just-“

“You know what?” GiDi said as they held up a hand to stop TO, “It doesn’t matter.”

“... It doesn’t?” TO asked, unsure why GiDi would say that.

“It doesn’t.” They confirmed. “Because you know something?” They smiled, but it was an odd smile, cold and self-satisfied. “Pearla thought I did well. Tham, Flit, Snout, they all said I did well!”

“That’s good!” TO said, suddenly perking up. Maybe their own failure hadn’t hurt GiDi as badly as they thought.

“It is!” GiDi continued. “but I was still upset that *you* didn’t say I had done well!”

“I’m saying it now!” TO said, their ears once more flicking back, “I do think-“

“It doesn’t matter now because you had to be told to say it. I don’t know if you really believe it or not!” As TO started to speak, GiDi shook their head and held up their hand, “You can say you believe it, and you probably wouldn’t be lying now, but it had to be pointed out to you. Everyone else thought I had done well, but I was upset because you didn’t.” They glanced away, “That was stupid. I shouldn’t need you to tell me I did well when I know I did well.” They gave a bitter chuckle that didn’t match with the way their ears narrowed, “Really, if I know I did well, then I don’t need anyone else to tell me that, do I?”

“…No.” TO said after a while. At first, their mind rebelled against that idea; the need for someone else to recognize your good work seemed so essential to them! And they could understand why instantly. Being recognized for your work back in training, under King Decon’s regime meant you were more likely to survive! You’d get more food, less dangerous jobs, and even better medical attention than those who higher-level synths had not recognized for their work. In training, being recognized for your good work was absolutely vital! Even now, outside of King Decon’s grasp, TO themself was always recognized for their successes. Still, as they thought about it they realized that GiDI was right, “The most important thing should be your success.” TO said, their voice soft as considered this idea. “If what you did worked, then that should be enough.”

“Exactly.” GiDi said, their eyes narrowing once more as they looked back at TO, “The praise, the validation is nice, but I don’t need it anymore. Not from anyone.” Their wings puffed up slightly, their lip curling, “Especially from you.”

TO blinked, their ears dipping back again as their stomach twisted, “W-what?”

“I don’t need your praise.” GiDi said, now speaking slowly and clearly as though TO would struggle to understand them. “I don’t need your praise. I don’t need your validation! And I don’t. Need. You.”

The elevator arrived, sliding open before the two of them. There were two civilians, one Nagarajin and one Piscijin who slipped out without recognizing the intense conversation they had walked in on, and scurried across the hall to the privacy room. GiDi stepped into the elevator, leaving TO searching for something to say, waiting for the civilians to go into the room and leave them alone again so they could talk.

The elevator door closed.

The civilians slipped into the privacy room, giggling.

TO sat in their chair, staring at the elevator door, still unsure how to respond to GiDi even now that they were long gone. They didn’t know what they could have said or what they might say to GiDi! All they knew now more than ever before that they had failed their friend spectacularly, and there was probably no way to make it right.