Alien Aesthetic: Christopher Samuels
He is built in a Weyland-Yutani lab in London. They make him tall, but not enough to be intimidating. Handsome, but not enough that he would serve as a sort of competition. The only thing that cannot be controlled is his brain, for computers are cleverer than humans every time. He is remarkably personable, especially for a synthetic, and so he is put to work in the Company’s recruitment program.
There is a day, a year after his conception, wherein he overhears two coworkers discussing a film that he had recently seen and greatly enjoyed. An urgent red light behind his eyes begs him to stay silent, and yet he manages to ignore it.
“I loved that film,” he interrupts eagerly. “It was truly—“
His coworkers cut him off with harsh laughter.
“Don’t worry, Samuels,” says one. “If I want your opinion on something, I’ll ask.”
They think that I’m incapable of loving something, he realizes, forcing himself to maintain a pleasant smile. They think I can’t feel.
That can’t be true. Surely he is capable of processing emotion, as he knows for a fact that the surge of nausea pulsing in his core is a physical manifestation of humiliation.
But not all humans are so callous. There is a woman he meets several years later, a woman who is perhaps not nice, and yet is still good and caring. She is strong and brave and Samuels can see her future blazing like a comet across a dark sky.
And so, when he must decide whether to save himself, or to die for Amanda Ripley, he smiles.
An easy choice.