Miles pictures his original mission plan written on a plastic flimsy, and pictures himself taking that flimsy and crumpling it into a ball and stuffing it down a waste chute.
This creature, this Seven, is far from the doomed genetic mistake that Dr. Canaba described. He walks, he talks, he washes, he weeps; Miles can think of no viable definition of human from which this - man? boy? how old is he? - should be excluded. He is surprised by the strength of his own protective feelings.
When Seven unclasps the heat pipe and rubs at his eyes, Miles moves closer, seeking some of that warmth for himself. And answers. God, for some answers.
"They - um - call you Seven?" The old joke about who Six is afraid of flashes through his mind. He suppresses it as wildly inappropriate.
no subject
Miles pictures his original mission plan written on a plastic flimsy, and pictures himself taking that flimsy and crumpling it into a ball and stuffing it down a waste chute.
This creature, this Seven, is far from the doomed genetic mistake that Dr. Canaba described. He walks, he talks, he washes, he weeps; Miles can think of no viable definition of human from which this - man? boy? how old is he? - should be excluded. He is surprised by the strength of his own protective feelings.
When Seven unclasps the heat pipe and rubs at his eyes, Miles moves closer, seeking some of that warmth for himself. And answers. God, for some answers.
"They - um - call you Seven?" The old joke about who Six is afraid of flashes through his mind. He suppresses it as wildly inappropriate.