Cameron's Repairs

It had been a long four weeks since John returned from the horrible wastes of the future in order to recover Cameron’s chip. He had sustained many injuries that would never heal away on the surface, both the body and the heart. But Cameron was now back in her chip, and was once again roaming the house on surveillance. The house he left behind was in perfect order, and John had found––to his great relief––that Sarah had not destroyed her endoskeleton, whose skin had now healed perfectly. He had found it in a body bag stored away in the garage, a grim place to find any lifeless body, even if I was a terminator. But he was happy nevertheless.
 
John was at the dining table, in front of him, his laptop and some piles of paper. He had frequently gone to the wall and back, checking Skynet targets, not to finish the job, but to look for his mother. Sarah had not turned up since his return. Unable to establish any contact with her, he was becoming increasingly worried.
One unsteady foot after another, a silent Cameron walked in. The floor gave a slight creak as she went. John turned, observing her. On her fragile arms was a purple box that John had never seen before.
“What’s that?”
Cameron did not answer, but walked to the table and gently put it next to a pile of paper. She carefully pushed it towards John, as an animal would when offering something. Then, she walked back to the entrance and turned to face him.
Her expression had been more unusual for the past four weeks. She no longer seemed to carry that void face, and instead sustained a look that baffled John. She appeared pondering, and at the same time reluctant. Though her normal actions and ways of speaking continued as always, this was something she had never done before.
On the outside, she appeared the same healthy Cameron as before her encounters at the jailbreak, but under her skin was a badly damaged combat cha––Body, not chassis! John thought. He was not impressed. “How’re you feeling?” he asked, turning back to his laptop.
Cameron tipped her head. “I can’t feel.” There was a sudden twitch in her neck every now and then. It was driving John mad.
“No, I meant: how are you? Your body. Your chip.”
“I’m not one-hundred percent.”
“That’s what you said last time.” This time he looked at her. “Could you be a little more specific?”
She blinked. “My endoskeleton has suffered heavy damage, but it’s not critical.”
“Which parts?”
“The neck, left skull plating, chest armor. Some internal hardware have also been damaged. My combat ability is drastically decreased.”
“And what about your power cell? Is it alright?”
“If it wasn’t, I would’ve exploded at the jail, before we got to ZieraCorp.”
John nodded. “Good point. Anything else?”
“My chip feels different.”
John made a confused face. “I though you said you couldn’t feel.”
“That’s why it’s different.”
John paused at the thought. The mannerisms of a machine always confused him from time to time. “Okay, is it John Henry?”
“No.” The abrupt twitch obstructed the way she shook her head. ”He hasn’t come back yet.” Cameron made a thought. This was going to be more complicated than she assessed.
“So, this feeling…how does it, uh, feel like?”
To a machine, there was no easy way to process such a concept as emotion or internal sensation, since her only true touch sensory was based on her organic casing. This was something completely different. “I don’t know. My database has no information about this. But there’s something you have to learn.” She limped closer and opened a hand out to him. “Give me your necklace.”
“What? Why? What’re you gonna do?”
Cameron didn’t answer.
“Cameron.”
“I need to show you something.”
John had second thoughts, but finally took off his necklace and surrendered it, but not before demanding one last thing. “How do I know you’re not going to kill yourself?”
“We’re not designed to self-terminate without purpose. I won’t kill myself.”
After assessing how true her words were, coupled with memories of her lies, he reluctantly obliged.
Cameron accepted it, and took a long, good look. Then, she slowly took John’s hand as though careful not to make him retract. She placed the detonator on his palm and, most strangely, closed it with his fingers. John repeatedly gave looks at Cameron and the detonator. Cameron, on the other hand, did not take her eyes off it. “You have to do it yourself.”
This again! “Cameron, I told you! I’m not gonna do it.”
“You have to. I can’t be repaired. Sarah burned all the parts. I can’t be of any use. You have no choice but to––“
“Didn’t you hear what I said?” An enraged John raised his voice at her.
Cameron fell silent.
“I said no. Final.” John walked past her, towards the stairs.
“John,” she said softly and subdued.
“What?”
“I can’t protect you anymore.”
John ignored her, and strode upstairs in a fiery hurry.
Cameron turned back to the gift. John had forgotten about it. She’d have to wait until he’d remember.