[Of course the answer would be "yes." Sam lived what short life he was meant to have answering all questions asked, if only because his life was purely business. The video replies he made of a personal nature never went anywhere. He wasn't sure if they were even recorded, if Gerty had a collection of Sam Bell responses that he'd kept in case something happened, or if they'd been shown to the suits at corporate to have a good laugh at. He didn't know where they went.
And after a while, he didn't know what he'd put on them. The little blips and "glitches" he'd seen in the video replies from Earth had always been blamed on transmission, or Tess not being pleased with the way she looked at one point or having to take a break and record after something came up. That there were people purposefully crafting them to look like suitable replies never occurred to him.
A lot had never occurred to him. It was why it was so much worse whenever he found out the truth. He didn't find it out over the course of months. He found it out in less than a day; and, in less than a day, Sam lost a life he thought was his and lost the one person he believed knew him better than anyone else. He found out the only person who knew him at all wasn't a person.
He found out he wasn't a person. When paired with someone like David, what reason would he have to deny him the basic, unalienable rights Sam had believed he had for three years? In what world would that be appropriate behavior at all?]
I. [He thinks his hesitation is answer enough, but he doesn't feel like leaving David with a one-word reply is proper. David is a lot of things; physic? Not so much. At least, not as far as he knows.] I don't know. I'm not sure, I don't know how long the other Sams lasted. I don't know—I know that my, that his daughter was fifteen when I...I mean, it's easy math, right?
I just haven't bothered to do it.
[It's easy.
He does it in his head in less than a second.
He just doesn't like the answer enough to say it out loud.]
no subject
And after a while, he didn't know what he'd put on them. The little blips and "glitches" he'd seen in the video replies from Earth had always been blamed on transmission, or Tess not being pleased with the way she looked at one point or having to take a break and record after something came up. That there were people purposefully crafting them to look like suitable replies never occurred to him.
A lot had never occurred to him. It was why it was so much worse whenever he found out the truth. He didn't find it out over the course of months. He found it out in less than a day; and, in less than a day, Sam lost a life he thought was his and lost the one person he believed knew him better than anyone else. He found out the only person who knew him at all wasn't a person.
He found out he wasn't a person. When paired with someone like David, what reason would he have to deny him the basic, unalienable rights Sam had believed he had for three years? In what world would that be appropriate behavior at all?]
I. [He thinks his hesitation is answer enough, but he doesn't feel like leaving David with a one-word reply is proper. David is a lot of things; physic? Not so much. At least, not as far as he knows.] I don't know. I'm not sure, I don't know how long the other Sams lasted. I don't know—I know that my, that his daughter was fifteen when I...I mean, it's easy math, right?
I just haven't bothered to do it.
[It's easy.
He does it in his head in less than a second.
He just doesn't like the answer enough to say it out loud.]
Why?