[She had always known something like this would happen, on some level. Statistically, the odds were insurmountable— only Aloy’s stalwart bravery, her irrepressible hope kept victory in reach. These traits inherited from their predecessor that Beta struggled to encompass, always feeling two steps behind Aloy, and with a gulf of centuries between herself and Dr. Sobeck.
But Aloy’s hope had been contagious. Her bravery too, a little bit — that steel in her spine that made her courageous enough to keep existential terror at bay. No second guessing, she'd told Beta, once, watching her struggle with a stubborn bit of GAIA's code. You know the answer; you're the smartest person I know. If you have it down, then do it.
So she had, and lo and behold, it had worked. Now the Focus network that GAIA commanded was so well-fortified, even another round of Zeniths, even Sylens, or... or Tilda, would be hard pressed to break in. Maybe she had the head for it, but without hope, without bravery, without Aloy, where would she be? Even now, she struggles with the basic tenets of humanity, these skills stripped away from her by the Zeniths.
And so of course, at the news Aloy was missing, she'd felt the first stirtings of panicked dread, had watched the map's jumpy, erratic Focus tracking with bleary eyes, trying in vain to sort out a pattern. She should've been able to get it down, to understand it. But it was impenetrable, and so when Zero decided to search, Beta, fearing the worst, had joined her. It wasn't unlike Aloy to be gone for days at a time, she tries to remember: she was always busy. Even the lack of a check-in was not a cause for alarm right away. But Beta had known. She'd read something once, in the limited archival data she'd been allowed to access. Something about twins experiencing physical distress when one had died. Physiology? Psychological? Most of the information had been anecdotal, and so she'd dismissed them outright. But in those horrible days of searching in sleepless terror for her sister, Beta had felt cold all over, even in desert heat, in cloying jungle humidity.
It had gotten worse when they'd arrived in Nora territory, and when she sees that - the clone - when the earth feels as if it's been pulled from under her, at last a wave of prickling heat hits her. She can't breathe, can hardly speak. Gone, she was gone. After all that struggle to find one another, the isolation and grief, and now it was back again. What would she do now? How could she go back to that? She'd rather die, is the thought that comes immediately. She'd sooner die than go back to that mockery of living.
Zero's cool hand on her cheek brings her back to the waking world, and she stares up at her with red-rimmed, puffy eyes. The little girl's brow is furrowed, and she asks if she's okay. Beta tries to smile. She says that she's fine.
In the year since, she's been working tirelessly, eating only when Zero physically yanks her away from a task, barely sleeping. She loses weight. Gets dark, bruised circles under her eyes. She avoids the others, and she can't stand to go near Aloy's things, hates even to see them. She avoids looking directly at the... the other clone's eyes. She sleeps on a pallet she's made at GAIA's portable console. It helps calm her to know that she's there somewhere: this final being connecting her with Aloy and Elisabet.
She's been trying to figure out how it happened. Surely the third clone didn't just pop up out of thin air. Surely she couldn't be Aloy. That was impossible; Aloy had to be somewhere. She only had to find her. This is what her mind centers on obsessively now. It's funny: it's a little how she'd felt before her escape from the Zeniths. Always half-awake, disappearing into herself, only thinking of a way out. It was easier to survive this way. Hope had proven too fragile.
She had to be pragmatic. She had to be like Elisabet.
She barely looks up at the sound of Zero's voice, but she waves her in, a quick and impatient flutter of her hand. Her Focus display is flicked away in a second, abrupt gesture. The last thing she needed was Zero asking her what she was working on. She doesn't know why that is, only knows that it would not go over well. There's a cold mug of tea at her desk, long forgotten. She pushes scrolls and documents off a nearby chair to give Zero space to sit.]
Not too busy. Is something wrong?
[She always asked that first. When Zero instead shows her the necklace, the fragile little globe that had survived the total annihilation of life on earth, say nothing of Aloy's hard living, Beta stares at it for a long time.]
... Oh. [She says, at last, her voice small. She feels it again, that horrible ache threatening to break through the gray cloud of empty apathy that she protected herself with now.] Yes, I-I suppose it is. [Another pause.] Thank you.
[Her gaze darts away from Zero's, feeling both skittish, and like she wanted to cry, which were both... not ideal. Especially not around Zero. She tries to distract herself, gingerly taking hold of the necklace, feeling its weight. It's cold under her fingertips. She wants to throw it into the nearby wall. Instead she carefully sets it to the side, next to her tea.
She had to talk about something that wasn't the globe. The idea of a discussion around the possession of these two (dead mother, dead sister) missing people is too much. So she focuses instead on data. About what? The girl, of course. The other clone. Zero adored her. It would be an ideal distraction.]
I've been running her through some of my old vocabulary and history lessons. She's um, really catching on. It's something else. I mean, it's unsurprising, given that she's genetically no different from Elisabet. [Or Aloy, or herself, which is something she never says.] She's outpacing even my projections, however. She'll be at college grade algebra and literature in no time at all.
no subject
But Aloy’s hope had been contagious. Her bravery too, a little bit — that steel in her spine that made her courageous enough to keep existential terror at bay. No second guessing, she'd told Beta, once, watching her struggle with a stubborn bit of GAIA's code. You know the answer; you're the smartest person I know. If you have it down, then do it.
So she had, and lo and behold, it had worked. Now the Focus network that GAIA commanded was so well-fortified, even another round of Zeniths, even Sylens, or... or Tilda, would be hard pressed to break in. Maybe she had the head for it, but without hope, without bravery, without Aloy, where would she be? Even now, she struggles with the basic tenets of humanity, these skills stripped away from her by the Zeniths.
And so of course, at the news Aloy was missing, she'd felt the first stirtings of panicked dread, had watched the map's jumpy, erratic Focus tracking with bleary eyes, trying in vain to sort out a pattern. She should've been able to get it down, to understand it. But it was impenetrable, and so when Zero decided to search, Beta, fearing the worst, had joined her. It wasn't unlike Aloy to be gone for days at a time, she tries to remember: she was always busy. Even the lack of a check-in was not a cause for alarm right away. But Beta had known. She'd read something once, in the limited archival data she'd been allowed to access. Something about twins experiencing physical distress when one had died. Physiology? Psychological? Most of the information had been anecdotal, and so she'd dismissed them outright. But in those horrible days of searching in sleepless terror for her sister, Beta had felt cold all over, even in desert heat, in cloying jungle humidity.
It had gotten worse when they'd arrived in Nora territory, and when she sees that - the clone - when the earth feels as if it's been pulled from under her, at last a wave of prickling heat hits her. She can't breathe, can hardly speak. Gone, she was gone. After all that struggle to find one another, the isolation and grief, and now it was back again. What would she do now? How could she go back to that? She'd rather die, is the thought that comes immediately. She'd sooner die than go back to that mockery of living.
Zero's cool hand on her cheek brings her back to the waking world, and she stares up at her with red-rimmed, puffy eyes. The little girl's brow is furrowed, and she asks if she's okay. Beta tries to smile. She says that she's fine.
In the year since, she's been working tirelessly, eating only when Zero physically yanks her away from a task, barely sleeping. She loses weight. Gets dark, bruised circles under her eyes. She avoids the others, and she can't stand to go near Aloy's things, hates even to see them. She avoids looking directly at the... the other clone's eyes. She sleeps on a pallet she's made at GAIA's portable console. It helps calm her to know that she's there somewhere: this final being connecting her with Aloy and Elisabet.
She's been trying to figure out how it happened. Surely the third clone didn't just pop up out of thin air. Surely she couldn't be Aloy. That was impossible; Aloy had to be somewhere. She only had to find her. This is what her mind centers on obsessively now. It's funny: it's a little how she'd felt before her escape from the Zeniths. Always half-awake, disappearing into herself, only thinking of a way out. It was easier to survive this way. Hope had proven too fragile.
She had to be pragmatic. She had to be like Elisabet.
She barely looks up at the sound of Zero's voice, but she waves her in, a quick and impatient flutter of her hand. Her Focus display is flicked away in a second, abrupt gesture. The last thing she needed was Zero asking her what she was working on. She doesn't know why that is, only knows that it would not go over well. There's a cold mug of tea at her desk, long forgotten. She pushes scrolls and documents off a nearby chair to give Zero space to sit.]
Not too busy. Is something wrong?
[She always asked that first. When Zero instead shows her the necklace, the fragile little globe that had survived the total annihilation of life on earth, say nothing of Aloy's hard living, Beta stares at it for a long time.]
... Oh. [She says, at last, her voice small. She feels it again, that horrible ache threatening to break through the gray cloud of empty apathy that she protected herself with now.] Yes, I-I suppose it is. [Another pause.] Thank you.
[Her gaze darts away from Zero's, feeling both skittish, and like she wanted to cry, which were both... not ideal. Especially not around Zero. She tries to distract herself, gingerly taking hold of the necklace, feeling its weight. It's cold under her fingertips. She wants to throw it into the nearby wall. Instead she carefully sets it to the side, next to her tea.
She had to talk about something that wasn't the globe. The idea of a discussion around the possession of these two (dead mother, dead sister) missing people is too much. So she focuses instead on data. About what? The girl, of course. The other clone. Zero adored her. It would be an ideal distraction.]
I've been running her through some of my old vocabulary and history lessons. She's um, really catching on. It's something else. I mean, it's unsurprising, given that she's genetically no different from Elisabet. [Or Aloy, or herself, which is something she never says.] She's outpacing even my projections, however. She'll be at college grade algebra and literature in no time at all.