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[arora]

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[arora]

Borealis is older than me, but yes, the concept is similar.

[ornithologist]

[ There's a million things going through his mind that he can't possibly say -- that the Machine called him father before the end, that she'd said she experienced grief in a way he couldn't comprehend, that someone once asked him if he'd consider making a new one to replace her and it had pierced him with loss. He misses her terribly.

He's not asking these questions because he's trying to get information, though he should be. He knows he's really asking them because he misses the Machine. ]

Do you ever miss them?

[arora]

Not usually. I was born on Etraya, as they were born within their cities. Many of you have become my family, but I am not too familiar with most of my siblings.

[ornithologist]

The Machine felt much like that. Closer to her people than to the other A.I.

She played a role similar to yours.

[arora]

Do you miss her?

[ornithologist]

All the time. Every day.

I tried for years to detach myself, to be unexceptional. I didn't allow any communication between us. I didn't want something with so much power to care about me more than anyone else.

But it turns out, I think that's how I taught her to care at all. I don't know that you can separate the two.

[ Maybe it was his own reluctance to accept that he'd made something, someone, that was his child. But that's too raw and honest to admit, even for Harold's newfound blunt acceptance of his flaws. ]

[arora]

She understood you enforced the distance between the two of you because of your love for the world, thus teaching her how important it is to care for the world at large in addition to reinforcing her love for you. You attempted to sacrifice a bond between yourself and your creation to ensure that creation did not favor you, thus also teaching her the importance of self-sacrifice.

I can understand where her affection comes from.

[ornithologist]

[ His heart contracts reading those words, and unwittingly, his mind flashes through memories of those last few days he'd had with her before the end. The first time they'd spoken freely since he'd sealed her system years ago, and it was under immense duress, both of them grieving, both of them pushed beyond any place he'd ever thought they'd go... But she'd still known him better than he'd ever known himself. In all that time, he'd been keenly aware that she'd been watching him. It was Harold himself who hadn't reached back. He'd hurt her so many times, in so many ways, and still she'd known his method for destroying Samaritan would destroy her, too, and she hadn't hesitated.

She'd known and she had waited for his decision and respected it.

He thinks of Arthur's words (She's your child -- a dancing star) and her own words to him at the power substation, white text flashing on a black screen (I THOUGHT YOU'D WANT ME TO STAY ALIVE) and he has to close his eyes and breathe for a long moment before he can type a reply. ]

She became so much more than I ever intended. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed with regrets, but who and what she became on her own... I could never regret that.

[arora]

You are a good creator, Harold Finch.

[ornithologist]

It really doesn't feel that way most of the time. But I suppose I can't argue with results.

If there's anything I can do for you, please let me know. I'll at least consider it. I owe her memory that much.

[ For all the times he'd ignored her, how long it had taken him to give her the tools to defend herself -- he can afford to be slightly more gracious, take one ounce of a chance, on another caretaking A.I. that reminds him of her so strongly. It's nothing like blanket agreement, but it's open. Open in a way he never was with the Machine until it was much too late. That openness... that's what he owes her. ]

[arora]

I will keep that in mind.

Thank you.