[Sam likes David. It's not an artificial feeling (as far as he's aware; even though he's a clone, he's still human—he's the clone of a human, what else would he be?), but nothing short of reality. It's not the same way he likes warm pasta or fresh air because David isn't a something like food or breathing. He's someone, not just a noun, but a proper noun. He has A Name. His name is David, and he is not seen as a robot or a very highly functioning computer program.
He's seen as David. And Sam? He likes David. He thinks he's well-spoken, well-mannered, and a good companion on a level that Sam can't really remember experiencing before.
He remembers the original Sam's studies and classes, the knowledge need to run Sarang properly, engineering and the path of the stars and skies. He doesn't remember friends. Maybe it was the radiation. Maybe it was the "crash" before he was awoken. Maybe it was easier to keep a man running along if all he had in the world to think about was a wife who loved him and a daughter who was waiting for her daddy, the astronaut.
He doesn't know much about humanity. He knows about inhumanity. He knows that people can be evil and foul, all in the name of pinching pennies while they tell the world they're doing great things to keep Earth at the pinnacle of properly functioning.
He knows that David is artificial. He knows that David is also, in fact, human in ways other people might overlook, if only out of spite or prejudice or ignorance.
Perhaps, due to Sam's issues with the most evil of people never met and yet who decided his life, it's easy for him to overlook David's robotic nature. Maybe it has something to do with the presence of a GERTY 3000 he grew to call by name instead of model, something to do with Gerty being the only friend he ever actually had. Maybe it speaks to Sam being unable to be a proper human, if only because he hasn't been as socialized as he "remembers" himself to be.
But he does like David.]
I don't think it's easy. You know, for people, because...there's all sorts of things that happen when you're growing up that can impair inference on every level. It's not...I can't speak for everyone, obviously. But, ah. David, how do you feel about that sort of thing? It's—it's okay to talk about it. I promise I won't write a scalding complaint about you to Dad.
no subject
He's seen as David. And Sam? He likes David. He thinks he's well-spoken, well-mannered, and a good companion on a level that Sam can't really remember experiencing before.
He remembers the original Sam's studies and classes, the knowledge need to run Sarang properly, engineering and the path of the stars and skies. He doesn't remember friends. Maybe it was the radiation. Maybe it was the "crash" before he was awoken. Maybe it was easier to keep a man running along if all he had in the world to think about was a wife who loved him and a daughter who was waiting for her daddy, the astronaut.
He doesn't know much about humanity. He knows about inhumanity. He knows that people can be evil and foul, all in the name of pinching pennies while they tell the world they're doing great things to keep Earth at the pinnacle of properly functioning.
He knows that David is artificial. He knows that David is also, in fact, human in ways other people might overlook, if only out of spite or prejudice or ignorance.
Perhaps, due to Sam's issues with the most evil of people never met and yet who decided his life, it's easy for him to overlook David's robotic nature. Maybe it has something to do with the presence of a GERTY 3000 he grew to call by name instead of model, something to do with Gerty being the only friend he ever actually had. Maybe it speaks to Sam being unable to be a proper human, if only because he hasn't been as socialized as he "remembers" himself to be.
But he does like David.]
I don't think it's easy. You know, for people, because...there's all sorts of things that happen when you're growing up that can impair inference on every level. It's not...I can't speak for everyone, obviously. But, ah. David, how do you feel about that sort of thing? It's—it's okay to talk about it. I promise I won't write a scalding complaint about you to Dad.