…he said, “You know, in Preservation-controlled territory, bots are considered full citizens. A construct would fall under the same category.” He said this in the tone of giving me a hint.
Whatever. Bots who are "full citizens" still have to have a human or augmented human guardian appointed, usually their employer; I’d seen it on the news feeds. And on the entertainment feed, where the bots were all happy servants or were secretly in love with their guardians. If it showed the bots hanging out watching the entertainment feed all through the day cycle, with no one trying to make them talk about their feelings, I would have been a lot more interested.
This is my precious Murderbot, and I love it to pieces, and everything about it is Relatable. It just wants to bingewatch trash tv all day, and why won’t all these humans stop trying to interact with it and improve its life and make it feel things?
Please read this novella, because it’s everything you could ever want in a snarky first-person robot tale. The link takes you to the full first chapter.
Keith didn’t get sick often. Even as a child, his immune system always worked in his favor. But, if a day came where he was struck with illness, he pushed through, that’s just how he did things when being alone for a large portion of his life.
However, since joining Voltron, he found that he gained a new family, who were all very willing to do just about anything for him when he was sick.
He found that he didn’t need much when sick. All he wanted was a touch, a presence, a soft, steady person to hold him while his body fought against whatever virus that was running rampant inside him.
So, when he fell victim to a mysterious space flu one afternoon that left him achy and feverish, Lance quietly entered his room and crawled into bed with him.
The movements between the two had become routine. Lance lied flat on his back, and Keith rolled onto his stomach and pressed his cheek against Lance’s chest just as Lance wrapped long, strong arms around him.
Neither talked. Keith would time his breathing to the sound of Lance’s strong, steady heartbeat thumping against his ear while Lance carded slender fingers through his hair, a motion that left Keith dozing blissfully despite his aching limbs and throbbing head.
The warmth, the familiarity of Lance’s presence alone was enough to combat the illness. He didn’t need medicine; hell, he didn’t even need water. When he was cradled in Lance’s arms, that was all he needed to make a full recovery.
When Lance shifted ever so slightly, Keith would curl his fingers tightly into Lance’s shirt as if clutching at a lifeline, but Lance never left. Even if Keith fell asleep, Lance was always there when he woke.
The two would lie like that for hours on end. Occasionally, someone would come in to check on them, only to leave quietly when Lance motioned that he had everything under control.
Keith wasn’t one to be soft, vulnerable, but when sick, he nudged down the hard, cold walls he built up and allowed Lance in. And, Lance strolled in like a solid, glowing presence. A beacon of light to brighten the darkness that stemmed from years upon years of solitude. A journey and a goal all at once.
Keith thought that perhaps he was too soft, too clingy, while sick, but he couldn’t help it when Lance waltzed in with an air of warmth surrounding him.
The attention, the gentle touches, and the solid presence of one blue paladin was all Keith needed, and by the next day, he was feeling better, stronger, and he knew, he always knew, that he had Lance to thank for that.