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“I’ve decided I really love you, even though I’ve only known you for two days and we spent most of that time running for our lives,” P1 said. Heavy rain rumbled dramatically behind them.
“I feel the exact same way,” P2 replied. They reached for P1. “I think we should touch our horrible bacteria-laden mouths together in a way that makes all sorts of terrible noises.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” P1 said, and then they kissed and it was extremely gross.
The end.
“Well,” Dr. Vidya Bharadwaj said, after taking a bracing breath to keep from laughing. “You certainly followed the letter of the assignment, if not the spirit.”
“You don’t like it?” SecUnit asked, deadpan.
“I didn’t say that. But I will say that it’s…clearly not your best effort.”
SecUnit sighed loudly and slouched down in its chair so that only its eyebrows on up were visible in the video frame. One particularly determined cowlick stuck up from its head like an exclamation point. “You said make something. You didn’t say make it good.”
Vidya knew better than to get pulled into a debate over semantics. “I thought you might enjoy making a piece of media just to make it. With no external pressure, you know? If it’s really not enjoyable then obviously you don’t have to do it.”
It pushed up from its slouch just enough for its eyes to enter the frame. It minded approximating eye contact much less over video call, which was a novel change from their in-person meetings. Vidya was just happy the Perihelion was close enough that she and SecUnit could talk in real time. Waiting to send messages between wormhole jumps simply wasn’t the same.
SecUnit continued to glare through the screen, eyebrows scrunched down suspiciously.
“What?” Vidya asked. “If you’re waiting for a trap, there isn’t one.”
“Sounds like something someone planning a trap would say.”
Sometimes SecUnit’s dry delivery could make it hard to tell, but that didn’t sound playful. “What’s bothering you?”
“Nothing,” it said immediately.
She waited.
After a few moments it caved, as it usually did. “What’s the point?”
“Of what?”
“Of making a piece of media! It won’t save other Constructs or colonists or anything, so why should I bother?”
“Hm. Does art have to have a purpose?” Vidya asked.
“I’m not a philosopher,” SecUnit grumbled.
“You could be,” Vidya said brightly.
It let its eyes slide down out of frame again, but didn’t immediately refute her statement. That alone was progress—when they first started meeting together it had had very rigid views of what a SecUnit could or couldn’t do.
Vidya decided she needed to be more transparent. “I’ve been very impressed by everything you’ve made so far. That documentary you and the others made for the Adamantine splinter colony was incredible, especially knowing the conditions it was made under.”
It slid further out of frame at the compliment, leaving only part of its forehead visible. That single upright cowlick waved defiantly in the slight air current from the Perihelion’s ventilation system.
“In your trauma treatments, and with me, you’ve been exploring what it means to have value or purpose outside of just ‘SecUnit things,’” Vidya continued. “I know you love watching media. I was curious what you might come up with if you made something just for yourself.”
There was quiet for a long moment. She felt it was a thoughtful silence, though with only a view of SecUnit’s forehead it was impossible to be sure.
“I’m curious why you added a romance to the story,” Vidya probed carefully after another moment. “I know you don’t care for that.”
“Humans love romantic subplots,” it said sullenly.
“Not all humans, remember? And besides, this is meant to be for you. What sort of media would you make for just yourself as the audience?”
“Me as the audience?” it repeated. Its eyes popped back up into frame. It had such lovely dark eyes—she didn’t usually have opportunity to appreciate them.
Vidya nodded. “Media by a SecUnit for a SecUnit!” she said, and then kicked herself. Had that been too peppy? She didn’t want to deter it by being too enthusiastic.
It was thoughtful for another long moment. “I have to go,” it said.
Human1: We checked and double-checked the protocols and equipment. Everyone has all their gear and is prepared to stay within the marked safety zones. Just as you said, SecUnit.
SecUnit: Excellent. You might just survive this survey trip after all.
Human1: All thanks to you. We’re so lucky to have you around to make sure our squishy bodies don’t get torn to shreds.
Human2: I was about to store this compressed air canister near a heat source, but then I remembered your safety briefing, SecUnit! I loved how thorough it was.
SecUnit: Thank you, Human Two. I’ve never lost a human on a survey trip and I don’t intend to start now.
“I know you know that’s not how real people talk to each other,” the Perihelion said.
“She said it’s my media, for me, so they can talk however I want them to!” SecUnit’s expression was a masterwork in petulance.
Peri saved a few still frames of its face to secure storage. “Does the lack of interpersonal realism not bother you?” it asked.
“No,” SecUnit lied.
“Stories need conflict to be interesting,” the Perihelion informed it. It provided a list of citations in their shared feed. “If all the humans do exactly what the SecUnit says and the survey goes flawlessly, then there’s no conflict.”
“Maybe I don’t want conflict in my story.” SecUnit crossed its arms over its chest.
Peri thought it was very amusing and charming when SecUnit lied blatantly and badly. It examined the literature on story structure and visual media trends. “If a human gets placed in peril, then the SecUnit can execute a heroic rescue. You usually like viewing scenes of that nature.”
Peri savored the texture of SecUnit’s cognitive processes as it sorted through their shared files.
There was a soft burst—a slow spread like [configuring] melting butter—of nostalgia. The Perihelion increased its focus on its mutual administrative assistant’s emotional data.
The assistant in question shook a hand at the ceiling like [configuring] a human swatting away a bug. “Lay off, you’re crushing me. I was just thinking about when you used to be a huge baby who couldn’t watch a single pretend human pretend-die.”
“Yes, you have thoroughly corrupted me,” Peri joked. It used its “driest” tone, because SecUnit enjoyed sarcasm.
SecUnit “flipped off” one of its cameras, but its face was pleased. Peri took another still image and filed it into secure storage.
The humans huddled around their campfire. All around them were dark, strange woods, and the lighting was chiaroscuro and dramatic. The sounds of strange flora and fauna filled the air.
P3 whispered. “Do you think we’ll ever make it back to basecamp?”
P4 put an arm over their shoulders. “Of course we will.” Unbeknownst to P3, P4 glanced worriedly at their remaining supplies. There was not enough to last.
P2 spoke up confidently. “SecUnit will take care of us. Don’t worry, P3, it’ll all turn out okay,”
The SecUnit stood with it back to the firelight, scanning for potential threats in the darkness. P1 walked up to stand next to it. They also peered into the night, despite their weak unaugmented eyes. “I can take watch for a while,” they offered. “Take a break.”
“I think I’ve killed my characters,” SecUnit lamented.
“Why!?” Ilara asked, shocked. So far the movie it was making was kind of scary, which was thrilling because her parents never let her watch that sort of thing. But she wanted it to have a happy ending!
“They’re still five days away from the secondary basecamp, but they only have food and water for two more days. The predatory fauna are stalking them, and their projectile weapons are almost out of projectiles.”
“Hm.” Ilara pondered. Her finger tapped her chin. “Can’t you just make them have more food and…projectiles?”
“That wouldn’t be accurate to real survey supplies,” SecUnit said. It was giving her a look like What, are you nuts?
“Can’t it be make-believe? Your monsters are already make-believe.”
It stared at her again. SecUnit was always kind of rude, but not in a mean way. Ilara liked that it always talked to her like an adult, and didn’t coddle her like a stupid little kid.
“ART said the dialogue should be more realistic in my second draft,” it said. “I like when media is the fun kind of unrealistic. How do I know which parts to make real and which parts to make up?”
Ilara tapped her chin again. “Usually whenever I get stuck I add some magic. Like maybe a unicorn shows up to help them.”
SecUnit frowned at the floor. “I don’t think unicorns fit the tone I’m going for.”
Well, Ilara didn’t exactly know what that meant, but she was determined to be helpful. SecUnit wanted her advice, after all. Not her Second Mom’s or Amena’s or any of her other siblings’. “Maybe you can make up your own helpful magic animal! How did you come up with your monsters?”
It frowned at her in confusion. “Those are real fauna. I killed one on a survey once.”
Her jaw dropped and a chill went down her spine. “They’re what!?”
The SecUnit observed a glint of something buried in the underbrush. It carefully cleared away the flora while the humans stood a safe distance away. They fidgeted and glanced around nervously, though they had managed to gain some ground ahead of the predators. For now.
A shaft of light cut through the trees and shone on polished metal that should have gone to rust long ago. The SecUnit reached down and lifted up a sword. It caught the light dramatically.
In its hand, the sword reformed into a super sick forearm energy weapon attachment. (Ignore that this would definitely be some alien remnant shit in real life).
The humans looked on with wide eyes as the SecUnit angled its arm to study it. Then they ducked as the SecUnit fired a shot past them.
With a thump, a predatory fauna that had snuck up behind them fell to the ground dead. A hole smoked in its head.
The SecUnit smiled in satisfaction. Now they might just have a chance.
To: [email protected]
Need your help.
Thiago,
How would you make up a cool-looking fake language? Need one for a personal project.
SecUnit
To: redacted
RE: Need your help.
Hi SecUnit,
I’ve actually come up with a few different ideas over the years! Please see the attached files, and let me know if you have any questions. File #3 is probably my favorite if you’re looking for visual appeal: it’s a logographic system with an emphasis on angular shapes. I was inspired by Chinese hanzi and the Kaktovik Iñupiaq numerals! I can link you more resources if you’re interested. Hope this helps!
Sincerely,
Thiago Costa, PhD (he/him)
Dept of Linguistics, Preservation University
Office hours 2-4pm M-W
Sent from my Feed Interface
“See!” P3(Mara) exclaimed. “I’m right—this structure was meant to cut up through the cliff.” They scrubbed their hand over the worn symbols carved in the rock, clearing away dirt. “These are directions. We should be able to follow these tunnels up and come out topside at the secondary camp!”
P2(Topan) rested on a fallen bit of stone structure and wiped sweat off their forehead. “I’d love a shortcut.”
“If there’s nothing dangerous inside and none of the tunnels have collapsed,” the SecUnit said, looking concerned. “Which is unlikely.”
P1(Aya) shone her flashlight into the dark tunnel entrance. The light didn’t go far. “We don’t have days to hike and scale cliffs. Not with those…things chasing us, and with supplies so low. I know this path is risky, but it might be our best shot.”
They all looked into the dark together, and none of them looked happy about it.
Mb: What things would be scary about being in a dark tunnel on an unsurveyed planet?
Mb: Besides “everything.”
Mb: Like specifically. So far I have “falling/running into things, structural collapse, round hatches, and hungry fauna.”
Ratthi: Hm…
Ratthi: Probably running across skeletons/corpses. Mysterious artifacts or signs of alien remnant contamination
Ratthi: oh, Gurathin says insects
Mb: What’s scary about insects?
Ratthi: Well, some of them are venomous. Mainly it’s an ingrained human instinct against creepy-crawlies!
Mb: *laughing_face* *laughing_face*
Ratthi: *shrugging_man* Have you ever seen Overse in the same room as a spider?
Mb: No. Is it funny?
Ratthi: Extremely *laughing_face*
Mb: I’ll take the video footage immediately, thank you.
Ratthi: I wish! She made me delete it *crying_frown*
The group made a tense ascent within the ancient tunnel system. First they crept quietly through the darkness. Then the threat of a tunnel collapse made them rush forward with less caution.
The rumbling and falling rocks stirred up all the scorpions that burrowed in the old structure’s cracks. This part of the sequence would be ideal for a well-placed skeleton jumpscare.
Eventually, the survey team escaped aboveground again. They emerged into sunlight with a dramatic cloud of dust.
“There it is.” Irin pointed to the survey hab structures visible on the next ridge. “The secondary camp.” They looked visibly relieved.
“Wait,” the SecUnit said. “There are signs of life. Can you see the smoke?”
Aya looked grim and determined. “Someone else is there.”
PERIHELION.MEDSYS activating
initiating scan
user found REDACTED
calibrating
user data input SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH MY BRAIN. I CANT STOP THINKING OF A FAKE STORY THAT IM MAKING UP MYSELF. I THINK IM HAVING A NEW TYPE OF CATASTROPHIC MELTDOWN.
calibrating
re initiating scan
calibrating
diagnosis N/A. PATIENT HEALTHY. MILD PSYCHOLOGICAL DISTRESS
suggested treatment SOCIAL SUPPORT
calibrating
diagnosis LITTLE IDIOT
diagnosis ITS CALLED INSPIRATION
diagnosis YOU DIDNT NEED MY MEDSYS TO TELL YOU THAT
calibrating
user access REDACTED granted
diagnosis ART YOUR MEDSYS IS BROKEN
calibrating
diagnosis DONT HACK MY SYSTEMS
user access REDACTED locked
PERIHELION.MEDSYS deactivating
The SecUnit scouted out the secondary basecamp site with its two remaining drones. There were hostile humans in the hab and three hostile SecUnits stationed around the perimeter of the camp. The SecUnit relayed its data to the humans, hidden further behind.
“This doesn’t look good,” Irin said. “We’re way outmatched.”
“We’ll never get into that hab,” bemoaned Topan.
“I wish we had some sort of distraction,” Aya mused.
That was when the predatory fauna attacked.
The piece of work that SecUnit shared with Vidya was an amalgamation—she would be tempted to call it “mixed media,” if she were to attempt to label it at all. Which she really had no intention of doing.
Because it was something all its own. Something remarkable: a story made by a SecUnit, suited to its own tastes. It was formatted loosely like a movie script, with scraps of video and audio edited together throughout.
Those worked to illustrate the script, enhancing it—sketching out chunks of dialogue, action, and atmosphere in more depth. It was rough, but Vidya thought that was part of its charm.
Only part. Because it was also beautiful, and thrilling, and heartfelt, and so full to bursting with the things SecUnit loved that she could have sung.
It wasn’t a finished product, SecUnit made sure to emphasize. It was only the latest draft.
“ART and I are working on developing animation,” it told her. “I want it to have a consistent visual style, and ART can do all the voice acting.”
“What visual style are you leaning towards?” Vidya asked. In contrast to how stilted and withdrawn SecUnit had been in the beginning, it was gratifying to hear it go on excitedly about topics like five-act structures, leitmotifs, and cinematography. And now color palettes and visual styles.
“Motion capture has been a good base, especially with all the action sequences. So the movements look realistic, but over top I can tweak whatever I want. Right now I like…Dr. Mensah called it a…“painterly style.” Its voice, which had started rapid with enthusiasm, faded out uncertainly near the end.
“What?” Vidya asked.
It scowled out of frame. “I never thought about paintings.” It sounded offended at the mere suggestion. “But I like all the distinct blocks of color.”
“What do you like about it?”
It cocked its head in thought. “It’s like pixels. I know it all is pixels, ‘cause it’s all in the feed. But…lots of big pixels in different shapes? And together they all still make a picture?”
It sounded frustrated. Vidya knew it hated feeling like it wasn’t communicating its ideas clearly. It and everyone else who’d ever lived.
It shook its head and continued with an air of finality: “Plus, it makes normally boring things cooler to look at. Like all the hab interior scenes would really be mostly gray, but instead it can be colorful. And…swirly.” It scowled again.
Swirly, bold, and multicolored…Vidya found herself frowning thoughtfully. How much did she remember from that series of art courses she’d taken? Very little: it had been many years ago, and she hadn’t been especially motivated to pay attention at the time.
“There was an old Earth art movement,” she said. “Very old, at this point, but I think its influence persists. Oh, what was it called?”
She pulled up a search in the feed.
“Parameters?” SecUnit asked. Had they been within feed connection range, she would certainly have gotten a ping for a shared workspace.
“No, give me a moment,” she said distractedly.
SecUnit used the video call features to reply with a thumbs down on the display and an “incorrect” buzzer sound effect.
Vidya laughed. “Okay, no! Here it is! Aha!” She passed SecUnit her search results.
It was silent for a long moment. And then another. And then, once again, it said, “I have to go.”
And ended the call.
Vidya sat back in her chair and laughed to herself. “Bye, SecUnit,” she said to the dark screen.
She pulled back up its “rough draft” and rewound through the final climactic fight scene. Her fingers found the raised line of scar tissue running along her torso, under her shirt.
She remembered—with a feeling now of something like wonder—a survey that had started like any other before going incredibly, immensely, impossibly sideways. She felt the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.
And she hit play again.
Far more predators than they’d realized had been stalking them, combined with the ones that had staked out the hostile humans holding the secondary basecamp.
Surrounding both the basecamp site and the protagonists, the predators attacked at once.
It devolved, at first, into a three-way fight. The hostile SecUnits had orders to defend their humans against all intruders.
The SecUnit observed the conflict, protecting Mara from a projectile and then Topan from a fauna. It concluded that the humans would only survive if they teamed up against the predatory fauna.
The sequence then turned to a very dramatic fight scene where the SecUnit had to fight its way close enough to free the first two hostile SecUnits. (Ignore that you don’t actually have to be within arm’s reach to deactivate a governor module). Between that and the still-attacking fauna, it took catastrophic damage to do so. Around it, the humans Aya, Mara, Topan, and Irin fought their way to the hab.
There was a moment where it seemed one of the newly-freed SecUnits was going to finish the SecUnit off. But then it stopped, and started fighting against the fauna instead. The other no-longer-hostile SecUnit freed the remaining hostile SecUnit.
The humans convinced the hostile humans to let them all board the hopper. They all crossed to the hopper, and the no-longer-hostile SecUnits moved to help them make it aboard without being eaten by fauna.
Bullet time sequence here. The hopper powered up. All of the humans from both parties, along with most of the no-longer-hostile SecUnits, were inside. Taking off to escape the swarming predatory fauna made sense.
The SecUnit’s modified energy weapon kept the fauna at bay another moment, but then clicked. Out of charge. A predator lunged straight for the SecUnit, ready to make the finishing blow. Then it was stopped dead, literally. Aya stood over it with an improvised weapon spearing it through. Then she and two of the no-longer-hostile SecUnits helped the SecUnit into the hopper. Irin and Topan and some no-longer-hostile humans provided covering fire.
As they all took off to a safer location, tensions between the humans and no-longer-hostile humans were still uneasy. But everyone was tired, injured, and a bit pleasantly surprised with one another. So it seemed like they could probably work it out for everyone to escape this planet without killing each other and dying. The humans and no-longer-hostile SecUnits helped stabilize the SecUnit. It’s the good sort of unrealistic story so it has a happy ending, and the SecUnit and all its humans live.
The end.