Gen. Drama, missing scene, hurt/comfort.

PG-13 (mild language)

"Menace" retold from a crucial point of view

Many thanks to Redbyrd and to my husband, for their help and careful readings!

Disclaimers:

Stargate SG-1 and its characters belong to Showtime, Gekko, MGM-UA, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions, Stargate SG-1 Prod. Ltd. Partnership, and probably other persons or entities whom I've forgotten. No copyright infringement is intended. In fact, this story makes no sense if you haven't seen the show, so I encourage you to watch! And buy all the DVDs! Just like I do! Dialogue and plot (such as they are) are my own.

Oh, and the title belongs to Ecclesiastes, Chapter 3.

"A Time for Killing"

by Aelfgyfu

Voices. What? Where?

Breathe! I can breathe again.

I hear, "There's a pulse" and some other words. Voices I don't know. A woman saying something about "humanity."

Who? I open my eyes. Big breath. Breathe again. Don't forget. Breathe.

Faces. "Where am I?" I sit up fast. I don't know this place. I don't know these people!

"Uh, you're in a special facility"—a voice answers me, but I don't know him. ". . . Earth. My name is Daniel Jackson."

Tall. Taller than I am, really tall, with light brown hair and pale skin. Wearing something on his face, in front of his eyes. I've never seen that before.

He's still talking. "Major Samantha Carter." A pale woman waves a completely white hand at me. "And this is Jack O'Neill." Are they sick? Is that why they look like that?

"Hi." Another voice. He waves a hand. Not white like hers. Oh—she's wearing gloves. I wonder why? Jack O'Neill has slightly darker skin but gray hair.

"My name is Reese." Who are they? They wear odd clothes. The room looks a little like my father's lab—"Where's my father?" I ask.

"We're not sure." Daniel Jackson. He said his name is Daniel Jackson. I get off the table. I have to look for my father! No, wait, he's—

Two men rush into the room. Weapons! Those must be weapons! Guns. I've seen guns before. These are bigger, though. Scarier.

"Uh, please let me explain." Daniel Jackson again. He raises a hand between us. Is that to hold me off? Or the men with guns.

"Don't hurt me." He doesn't look like he wants to hurt me, but those men do.

"No one wants to hurt you," he says. He looks right at me.

The men back away and relax a little, even though he wasn't talking to them, so I believe him.

"How did I get here?" I look around. Jars and bottles and unfamiliar machines, metal and glass. . . . It's less like my father's lab than I thought at first, and more like something out of a scary story.

"Um, we found you on your planet," Daniel Jackson answers my question. "We brought you here through the Stargate."

"What is that?" My heart beats hard. I've never heard that word before. And I'm not on my planet anymore?

"Well, there was one on your planet," Major Samantha Carter says. I have never seen hair that color before. And her eyes, and Daniel Jackson's, are blue. I have seen eyes like those only in babies. "It's a device that can be used to travel great distances through space."

Daniel Jackson interrupts her, though, and I have a chance to ask another question.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"Well, I suppose there's no easy way to tell you this, but the civilization on your planet was destroyed," Daniel Jackson says.

No easy way? That didn't look hard! He has no idea what was lost! Everything is gone? I guess I knew—but I hoped. . . . He's watching me. "How?" I ask, because I can't think of anything else to say.

"We don't know." Daniel Jackson again. Does he do all the talking? Is he the leader?

"We were sort of hoping you could tell us." Jack O'Neill. He is older. That's why his hair is gray, I think. And he has lines around his eyes.

"I, uh, I was asleep!" I stumble over my words. I don't want to tell them. I don't want to remember. I'm about to cry. I won't cry in front of strangers. I'm strong.

"Yes, we found you that way," Daniel Jackson says.

"What about my father?" I feel bad even saying it: I remember the answer. I know what happened. I just want to be wrong. And I can't let them know—they have to think I wasn't involved.

Daniel tells me, "Well, as far as we know, you were the only survivor." They just look at me, but I don't know what to say. I'm not surprised, but the disappointment hurts so deep, that surprises me.

He continues: "You don't know anything about what happened?" He seems unsure.

"My father knew there was danger. He told me to go to sleep. He said he would wake me when the danger went away." It's true. It's all true. You have to believe me. But don't ask anything else.

Daniel adds, "We're very sorry."

I brush that off. "What do you want?" I want to leave. But where would I go? Can I go back? What's left?

"Well, we want to understand," Daniel says.

"What?" I honestly don't know what he means.

"Your planet and its history, and. . . ." He wants to know the things I don't want to remember.

"You." Major Samantha Carter breaks in.

"What about me?" Why does she want to know about me? Is she like my father? Does she make things? And people? I'm not sure I want her to understand me.

"Well, I'd really like to know more about how you work." Daniel Jackson looks nervous while Major Samantha Carter talks again. She takes a breath. "Your systems, how they function." Function? My father wouldn't talk about me that way.

I look around the room quickly. How much could they learn from their equipment? None of it looks familiar, so I don't know what it does. "I'm like you," I say quickly. People couldn't tell just by looking at me that I was different. They found out when other people told them. Maybe if my father had just kept it a secret, told them he'd found me somewhere. . . .

"Uh, not exactly," she says. "At least as far as I can tell." She looks at Daniel Jackson.

"How are we different?" I ask. What do they know? What do they think? I look away. I shouldn't do that. I'll give things away. I have to look them in the eye. My father said people are afraid of those who are different, and he was right. They can't know.

"Sam, can I have a word?" Daniel Jackson called her "Major Samantha Carter," but that is too long a name. He doesn't use it now. Maybe they all have shorter names.

"Yeah," she answers.

"We're just going to step outside for a minute. Will you be okay? We'll be right back." He points, and Sam follows. Why is he asking me if I'll be "okay"? Is he worried about me?

"'Scuse me," whispers Jack, and he follows too.

I have a moment to look around.

This must be a lab, but it's not my father's. I know he is gone. I'll never see him again. But I want him! He would take care of me. He would take me away from here. He always tried to protect me.

When I woke up the very first time, took my first breath, he was there. He told me who I am. Sometimes I was scared, but he was always kind. He didn't ask me questions. He told me things instead. He taught me a lot. I learned everything from him—but he said he had more to teach me. I'm not sure what he meant; I thought I had learned it all.

But now—I must focus on now.

If they don't know what happened, they can't punish me. Maybe they won't hurt me. But they know I'm different. Different is bad. Everyone said so. But now they're gone. Maybe these people are . . . different. Different from my people. They don't seem to be sick. They're just taller and paler than most of my people. Maybe they only know that my skin color is different.

I listen as they speak just outside the door. They don't know how well I hear.

Daniel says, "I don't think she knows she's a robot." Not a robot! But they do know it's not just my skin color that isn't the same.

I don't like Jack's tone of voice as he says, "Okay, how is that possible?" Believe Daniel! You have to believe him!

"Well, the last time your consciousness was copied into a robot, you didn't figure it out right away." Daniel again. They have been robots! Maybe they will understand! But they aren't robots now? And how could they be robots, anyway? There are people, and there are robots, and then there's me. I don't understand. My father said I was better than a robot; "best of both worlds," he said once. I'm the same as they are. I'm human. I breathe, I have a heart—I feel things just like they do.

I start to walk around the room. I should figure out this equipment, find out how much they know.

Sam says something, and Daniel answers, "I'm just saying that maybe we should avoid slapping her in the face with the reality of her existence just moments after telling her her planet was destroyed." Daniel is sorry. I can hear it in his voice. He meant what he said. He's sorry he had to tell me my planet is dead.

Jack says, "Why?" like he really can't imagine why. "It's a machine." No, no, Daniel, don't let him think that.

Daniel answers, "She just found out her father's dead." Yes! And I miss him! This equipment is not the same as his, but it reminds me of him. He loved to build things. He had many lights and machines, like here. But not like here. His machines were smaller, better made. He made many of them himself. I helped with some. I'm good at making things. It's fun.

"It's a machine," Jack repeats. He's annoyed with Daniel. He calls me "it." Not like Daniel. I sneak a peek to the side. I can only see Jack and Sam from the back, but I can see Daniel's face a little. He looks worried. That frightens me.

My father didn't think I was a machine. He was so pleased with what I made! I still remember showing him my first toy. It was really simple, and it didn't look like anything, exactly, but it moved and took simple commands. He was so happy! He was proud, proud that I could make things.

"He's right. It's not like it ever had a real father." Sam! I thought you liked me too!

"Well. maybe not," Daniel admits. "Maybe it's her creator. Or maybe we're talking to the stored consciousness of a real human being who once did have a real father. I think our past experience should be telling us to be careful about deciding what is and what isn't a life form." He's good. I like him. He'll help me.

"Okay, I agree. All I'm saying is if she really doesn't know what she is, she has a right to." Sam calls me "she" this time. She listens to Daniel.

Their equipment seems pretty simple, but I don't want to touch it too much; I don't want them to see that I can use it. I'm afraid they could learn a lot about me from it, though. These are scanning machines, to show what's inside and make little things look bigger. They know I'm not exactly like them. And that makes them worry. But Daniel knows I'm alive.

I look at the room itself. Their walls are not like on my world. They are plain gray. Hard and smooth. They don't say anything—no patterns, no words, no pictures. No art. Maybe these people don't make art! Maybe that's why their clothes are ugly and they dress alike.

They argue some more, but then Daniel says, "I think the best way to find out about her and what she knows is by dealing with her on her own terms, at least for now."

Jack answers, "Couldn't hurt."

I knew it! Daniel must be their leader. He can tell them what to do. He comes back to talk to me. The other two stay out in the hall. They're talking about my planet. Jack is going back. Maybe he'll find some news. I want to know—no, I don't want to know. Ever.

Daniel sits on a stool. He doesn't seem to mind that I'm looking around the room. He asks me some questions about my planet, and I tell him a little about how pretty it is—or was. I guess the gardens aren't like they used to be, or he wouldn't be asking. And if he was on my world, why didn't he see more buildings? Why doesn't he know more? He doesn't seem very happy, and he doesn't want to tell me what they saw on my world. I see Sam go into an upper room where she can see me through a window.

I let him ask enough questions. My turn. "Is the rest of your planet like this place?"

"No, it's very different."

"What's it like?" I've never seen another planet before! My father told me there were other worlds. He even knew how to get to some, and he said someday he'd take me.

"Well, there's lots of varying climates, different kind of landscapes, big oceans, a wide range of civilizations—and each is home to a lot of different kinds of people."

"It sounds beautiful," I tell him. I don't add, "not like this room." I want to talk about his planet. I didn't get to see much of my planet.

Daniel says, "Much of it is."

My father always said he'd show me everything. But he didn't. I don't think we had so many differences, though. I saw images, still and moving, of other parts of my world, but they didn't look awfully different.

My father said we all came from the same place, originally—except for me. That was why everyone was afraid of me. Maybe they'll be less scared of me here because they're more used to different? Maybe I'm not the first one they've brought back from somewhere else?

"Can I see it?"

"Mm. Soon."

People always tell me that. I'm disappointed. "Why not now?" I push a button on one of the scanners, watching Daniel out of the corner of my eye, but the machine doesn't do much. Daniel doesn't care that I touched it. He doesn't seem worried about what I can do with these machines. I don't know if he thinks I'm not very smart, or if there's just not a lot anyone can do with them. Or maybe he's not very smart.

"Well, because we still have more to talk about, Reese."

"I know, but we've been talking for so long now." Ages. My father was boring like this sometimes too. I don't like talking so much; I want to be doing.

"I know, but you must know a lot more than what we've already talked about."

I walk around the room some more. I can't help but smile. "I do know a lot." I giggle a little. My father is very proud of how much I know and how fast I learn. And I can do lots, more than anyone else I know.

"What can you tell me about the danger that came to your planet?"

That's right: my father was proud. No. I won't talk about that. I shake my head and walk away from him. I was happy. I want to be happy again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him look up at Sam. There's a long silence.

Daniel tells me that he's going to find me a better room, and he gets up to go.

"Wait—where am I? Can you tell me that?"

Daniel tells me that we're in a big underground building. He calls his planet Earth and says we're on a large land mass called North America, near a big city.

"Can I see the city?"

Daniel hesitates. "Maybe later." He smiles a little. "I think you'll like it." He walks to the door. "I have to go now, Reese. We'll fix up someplace a little nicer for you for now." He already told me that. "I'll be back to see you later." He leaves.

I'd rather not stay in a room at all. I want to see things. Does this world have a sun like ours? My father said some worlds had more than one, and some are brighter, some dimmer. Sometimes the colors are different. Maybe those clothes they wear look better in their sunlight. Does it have moons like mine? What's the air like? How does it smell? This room has very little smell. Some chemical smells, but not much else. Nothing real.

I play with the equipment a little more, learning how each piece works. It's easy to learn. It only takes me a few minutes. It's not as good as my father's. And it doesn't tell me anything I don't already know.

Lots of metal, though. I can do things with metal. To keep from being bored. To protect myself, if I have to. I hope I don't have to, but I'm not sure about these people. I don't understand them yet.

Daniel doesn't come back. Instead, after a long time, the two men with weapons come in, and two more men like them follow. They tell me they're taking me to another room.

"Will I see Daniel there?"

Two of them frown at each other. "I think he'll be along later," one says, but he won't look me in the eye. The men are all different. The one who spoke has skin darker than any I've ever seen; it's absolutely black. Another one is very pale, like Sam and Daniel, only he seems to have green eyes. I've never seen green eyes. One man has skin and eyes like mine, but he's bigger. Taller and heavier. One of the men is almost my size. Mostly, though, people here are big.

I go with them. Where else could I go? I try to talk a little with them, but they don't want to talk to me.

There are colored lines on the floor, very straight and boring. They only change at a new hallway, and only one at a time. They must tell you where to go; they certainly aren't nice to look at. But I don't know what the colors mean. Which way is out? Where is the Stargate Daniel talked about? I think my father talked about that. He called it the Chappa'ai. He said people could go to other worlds through it. One day, he was going to take me. Maybe as a birthday present. We were going to celebrate my birthday—

I can't think about my father. I have to start again, here, with these people. I shake my head. One of the pale men looks at me funny. I look at the floor. They're all bigger than I am. They could hurt me.

At last we stop, and one of the men opens a door. He waves me in.

One of the pale ones says, "Hey, this room doesn't have facilities!"

The others all laugh. "She doesn't need 'facilities'."

I frown. "I thought I was in a facility." They laugh again, and I feel a little angry. They are laughing because I don't understand. "Daniel said I'm in a special facility."

"Oh, you are," says the one with skin like mine. He has a big grin. "You've got all the facilities you'll need." They're laughing as they close the door, with me on one side and them on the other. Why are they laughing at me?

I clench my hands and release. I count to a hundred like my father taught me to do—he says it isn't good to be angry, that it's especially important that I don't get angry, because I'm special. I can stop being angry. I look around the room. This room is nicer, but not much. They still have blank gray walls. But there's a bookcase, also gray, with a few books.

They even gave me a bed. So I can sleep! Like them! There's a little dresser too. And magazines. Maybe this won't be so bad.

They seem to want to make me feel at home, even if they keep me in little, closed rooms. There are a couple of plants, bushes or little trees. But they don't have any flowers; they're just green, with no special smell or pretty colors. Maybe this is how they live? I hope not. I don't want to live this way. But I want them to treat me like them.

This room has a window too, so that people can look down on me. Do they do that to everyone, or just to me? Do they have windows to the outside? Daniel did say we were underground. Maybe on top of the ground they have buildings with windows.

But there's nothing to do in this room. I walk around, looking at the walls. I see conduits along the ceiling. There's a window, but it only looks into another room. That room is a little above mine. There are chairs and equipment there. My room doesn't have those things. Are they going to sit in there to talk to me? I hope not! Are they afraid of me? What do they know?

I sit down on the bed. I don't really need sleep, but I can pretend. I look through the drawers of the little dresser. There's nothing in them. Even though I try not to remember, my home comes into my head. My father gave me a bed, and chairs, and a dresser. I had clothes in my dresser. I had pretty things that I'd found: some rocks, a snail shell, the skin of a locust. A few flowers that I pressed. And then I had my toys.

Suddenly the door opens. I jump to my feet, hoping it's Daniel, but it's not. This is someone new. She's carrying a brown box. She's about my size, and the size of my people, but she is very pale like most of the others. She's wearing different clothes than the others, a blue dress of some kind. It's not very pretty, but it's better than the green clothes everyone else wears. She has brown eyes, like my people, but her hair is a kind of red-orange I've never seen before. I try not to stare.

"Hello, Reese," she says with a smile. "I'm Janet. We thought you might be bored, so I got you some things from my home. I have—I had a little girl; she's getting to be a big girl now." She laughs. "I had her drive over with these things, in fact."

"I'm a big girl!" I tell her, then wish I'd told her I was a grown-up.

"Yes, yes, you are. But we thought some of Cassie's old things might—might make you feel a little more at home. Help you get used to the planet. See," she says more quietly, as if she's telling me a secret, "my daughter isn't from this planet either."

"She's like me?" I ask, excited.

Janet frowns. "Well, not exactly like you. But she didn't come from here," she adds quickly. "When she first came, we gave her a lot of things to help her understand our planet." She sets the box down on the floor and starts pulling out books and some large photographs. "These can show you our world," she says with a proud smile.

"I'd rather just see it," I tell her. "Pictures aren't as good as being there. I want to feel the air, and smell it, and. . . ." I can tell from her face she doesn't agree. She's frowning again.

"Even Cassie couldn't go out right away," she says in that tone of voice that people use with children. "You'll have to wait a bit. We have to make sure that . . . that everything's safe. For you," she adds. She looks a little nervous as I just look at her and say nothing. She knows I don't believe her.

"Look," she sighs, "I wish I had time to show you all these things and talk to you. But I'm just here on my break; Daniel thought maybe Cassie would be willing to give up some of her old things—" Daniel hasn't forgotten me! I want to ask about him, but she's still talking. "—but I had to call Cassie, and get the stuff from her, and now I'm late, and we have pre-mission exams that have to be done, and regular physicals have come up. . . ." She's still talking, but I'm not listening anymore. Excuses. Excuses to leave me here alone.

She turns away and puts the books on the top shelf. Then she takes out some other things and puts them on the empty table. "These were Cassie's idea," she adds, spreading them in the middle of the table. "I know there's not much, but I'll see if we can round up some more things for you. Wouldn't want you getting bored." She smiles again.

"Thank you," I say. Maybe she really is just in a hurry and doesn't hate me. Sometimes, I have trouble knowing what people are thinking. People are the hardest things. Machines are much easier to understand. Especially when I can talk to them directly.

I go over to the table and find a long adhesive strip on a roll with a cutting edge. I tear some strips, then I use them to hang the individual photographs around the room. If Janet comes back, I want her to know that I appreciate her gifts. I just want the real thing so badly it's hard to remember to be polite.

The pictures are pretty, and some have very bright colors, but I can't tell what some of them are. Some are of flowers and trees. A few are of people, or buildings. The buildings in the pictures look much nicer than this one, but I can't see the insides of them. Maybe the insides aren't nice. But they do have windows, and they're above ground.

I take some time to look at the books, but they only make me want to be outside even more. The books and pictures show some beautiful things: they do have much better places than this. Some of the buildings are beautiful inside, and they have real windows, windows to see outside, not just into another room. Some have a lot of light. It looks like they have one sun, and the colors are like on our planet, but maybe a little more intense; is that just in the pictures, or is it really like that outside? There are a few pictures at night. I think they only have one moon. We have two we can see easily, and a third, very small and distant one that people need good eyesight and a clear night to see. I could see it every night it wasn't cloudy, though.

Other buildings are dark, but they have interesting shapes. These people do have art, too. My father said what separates us from animals is that we create. These people create like we do. Some wear better clothes than Daniel and Sam and Jack and the men outside the room. I feel better seeing some of the pictures. And beautiful trees, and flowers, and animals! I use the markers and paper a little, but they're not what I want.

The table is a little like one I had before, at home. It takes me a few minutes to figure out what some of the items on it are. There's some kind of crude cutting tool, something like our scissors, but it's not very sharp. I have seen paper before, but not much; that's for children. I work on machines, and with metal, like my father does. Paper gets damaged too easily. It tears, or it gets wet, or it gets lost. My father has computers, but his are smaller and do more than the ones in the first room, where I woke up. They didn't put any computers in this room. Why not?

I look through the window into the little room above mine. There are computers up there. The people can sit up above me and watch and use machines, but they've left me with books and a few toys. Why do they think I'm a child? I'm as good as they are! I'm smart, and I know a lot of things, and I can do a lot more than any child. I bet I can do more than any of them can!

The pictures, the dumb little art supplies—they think that I am a child. But maybe that's good. Everyone likes children. People protect children. They take care of them. My father said that I was his child, even if I don't feel like a child. I miss my father.

After I've finished putting up the photos and looked through all the books, the door opens again. It's not anyone I've met, though. It's a big man with a very big box. The door closes behind him, and he looks at me.

"Hello!" I say with a smile. "Have you come to take me out?" I ask hopefully, but he probably wouldn't be bringing a box if he had.

"No, no, I. . . ." Is he afraid of me too? I frown. "I . . . we . . . I thought you might like these," he said. "My daughter—" He breaks off and turns to the shelves, setting the box on the floor. He takes a few stuffed toys and puts them on a shelf. "I thought somebody should enjoy these," he says. He's leaning over, his face almost in the box. He takes out a big plastic box; I can see more plastic pieces inside it. A lot of brightly colored pieces. If they have such bright colors outside, why is it so gray and boring in here? He glances at me and puts it on a shelf.

I go to look at the things he's putting up, and he shudders. I step back a little.

"What is this?" I ask, picking up a stuffed toy.

His mouth opens for a while before he speaks. "It's a cat," he says finally. "Don't you have cats where you're from?" He stares at me.

I frown. "We have cats," I answer. "But they don't look like this." I shake the toy gently, and a little bell inside makes a noise. "They don't sound like this, either." I shake it again. My father made a cat of metal, and it was much better than this one. It looked and sounded like a real cat.

He laughs, nervously, like he really doesn't want to laugh. "Well, ours don't either," he says. "It's just—just a toy. My daughter," he swallows. "My daughter liked them."

I realize that I should have asked Janet if I could meet her girl. Children don't act so funny with me. Children like me. "Can I meet your daughter?" I ask with a smile.

He takes a big step back. "Um, no." He won't meet my eyes. Oh. He doesn't trust me. "My daughter is gone." He starts toward the door, turns around and grabs the box, tries to give me a smile, and then leaves.

That's strange. I wonder where she went? Did she go through the Stargate that brought me here?

I wish the man had stayed to talk, but I don't think he likes me. I forgot to ask his name. I didn't tell him mine. But Janet knew my name, so he probably did too.

I think Daniel likes me. He doesn't call me "it." I wish he wouldn't ask so many questions. But he tells me things, too. He talks to me. Sam just wants to ask questions. She doesn't want to answer mine. And I don't know what Jack wants at all. He doesn't say a lot. I don't trust them. I'm scared of Jack. He looks friendly to my face, but when he thinks I can't hear, he says I'm a machine, and he says it with anger. I've seen men like him before. I hope Daniel comes back.

I break off a bit of metal from the bed. I can do more with this than with the paper and colors they gave me. I remember my father. I miss him.

I make something to remember my father—my father and me together. My toys didn't work right last time. I have to be more careful this time, so I don't make any toys, even though I really want to. My father would be proud that I'm still making things.

The door opens while I'm still looking at my new statue. Daniel comes in! I was afraid he would never come back!

"I'm so happy you're here!" I tell him.

He seems happy to see me too. Then he sees what I made in my hand. He looks confused. "What's that?"

I show him the figure. "Oh, I made it." I suddenly don't want to tell him too much about it. I don't want him to ask about my father. But I have to ask: "Do you like it?"

"It's very nice." He sounds really impressed! But then his face tightens up. "How did you make this?" Now he sounds worried. He looks around the room. I don't want him to worry.

I change the subject and ask to go outside again, but Daniel says we have to talk. He is worried. This is bad. I see movement at the window, and Sam and Jack come in and sit down above, where they can watch me. They don't look happy. This could be really bad. I don't want to talk about what happened. Why do they want to know? It's too late to change anything!

"No." Don't make me do this. Can't I just start again, here? Let's talk about this world.

"Look, this is just going to take a minute, so just please sit down."

Oh. I like Daniel. But I already know that he can't just talk for just a minute, and I want to go out! "No, I don't want to talk any more! Daniel, I want to have fun! Don't you ever have fun?"

"Not as much as I would like to." I thought so! I bet he'd be more fun if he had more fun. "Would you please sit down? This is very important. Sit." He points.

"Then can we have some fun?" If he wants to talk to me badly enough, he'll have to make a deal.

"Yes." He looks sad.

"Promise?" I giggle.

"Yes." He promised! I won! I wonder what we'll do for fun? I wonder why he doesn't have more fun? Maybe he doesn't have any toys. I sit down.

"Okay, Reese, you know that there are different kinds of people, right?" He's talking slowly. I'm not dumb.

"Of course."

"In fact, there are many different kinds of life forms."

Any child knows this! "This is boring."

I hear Jack say something to Sam behind me. I think he's agreeing with me. I thought he didn't like me?

"Reese, I know you think that we're the same, but we're not."

I know more about both of us than you think I do. "My father always said I was special." I can feel myself smiling, even though I don't want to talk.

"You are. You are very special." Daniel seems to mean it nicely. So why can't we just have fun? "But despite the fact that you and I look very much the same . . . we're very different."

"That's obvious." I've never even seen a person who looked like him until today. Or Sam. Or some of the men outside.

"I mean on the inside."

"How?" Maybe I can fool him?

"Well, I'm flesh and blood. You are a machine." No! He can't say this. The others must know too. "A very, very sophisticated machine—more of a computer, really."

No! He's just wrong. My father had computers. There are computers in front of Jack and Sam. Computers are stupid, and they can't do anything by themselves. "I'm alive!" Computers can't even move. I'm not a computer!

"Yes, you are. Just not like me." He seems sad to say it. He thinks I'm bad! "Even though you were created to be very human-like, you . . . are not human."

"Yes, I am." I'm as good as you are. Better, even!

He stands up. He's upset. Don't get upset, Daniel! Don't hurt me! "No, you're not, Reese. Okay, I can prove that to you."

He's standing now, and he moves his arm towards me. No! He's going to touch my neck! I can't let you do that. I push him away from me. He goes way far back and hits the shelves. Things fall on him. But he's bigger than I am! Bigger than my father! I didn't push him that hard, did I? He doesn't get right back up. What's wrong with him? Men with guns run in!

I don't want to see Daniel. I don't want to see the men with guns! I turn to the window. Sam and Jack are jumping up, scared—or angry. "I wanna leave here! Let me out! Let me out! Now!" I hit the window to get their attention, but I'm careful: I don't break it. I don't want to get hurt! I don't want to hurt anyone!

Sam and Jack run from the room, but I don't think they're coming to let me out. I'm scared. I spin around to see a man pointing a gun at me. I back away, but of course the wall is right behind me. The other man pulls Daniel out of the room while the man with the gun points it at me. Why didn't Daniel just get up by himself? I don't move any more. The man with the gun backs out. The door closes. Daniel? I didn't mean it!

The door is closed, but if I listen, I can hear voices, especially after my heart quiets down. They haven't gone far from my room. My jail.

Jack's voice is raised. He's angry. He says I'm "broken"! He calls me "it"! Did he just say Daniel had "his head cracked"? I didn't do that, did I? Daniel's head is okay. I know it. I wasn't trying to hurt him.

Sam is upset too, but she's not as loud. Did she say "shut her down"?

Daniel's too quiet. I can't hear his words. But I know from his voice, and from Jack's, that he's arguing with Jack. He's talking, so his head can't be cracked.

Did Jack just say he doesn't like Daniel? Now he's talking about shoving Daniel through a wall! Isn't Daniel the leader? Maybe he's not. I don't understand these people.

Daniel's not talking anymore. Why is Jack so mean to him? I don't like Jack. I think he wants to hurt me. He says he wants to hurt Daniel. And Daniel doesn't say anything. He must be afraid of Jack.

I wish Daniel would come back. I'm lonely. Sometimes I hear a low voice. Jack isn't talking anymore; I think he left. I hear Daniel and now Janet, but I can't make out the words. The walls are too thick, and they're a little far away. Father made me very well, but he didn't make me perfect.

I'm scared. I sit still on my bed for a few minutes, but then I'm just bored. I look in a plastic container. There are a bunch of little plastic pieces. That man who has a daughter brought them in. They fit together; you can build things with them. I put a few together. But they don't do anything once you've built them. These toys must be for really small children. Or ones who aren't too smart.

I can hear the men outside my room laughing about Daniel, though they call him just "Jackson." Why are they laughing if he was hurt? One of them says maybe I knocked some sense into him. I'm angry; they shouldn't talk about him like that.

I'm not the only one who thinks so. I had already heard the extra footsteps, but apparently the other men didn't, because they keep talking and laughing and are very surprised when a third man yells at them for talking that way. I don't know any of these men. After that no one talks much for a while.

I'm bored. There's more metal here. I can make something better. Daniel liked the little statue I made. I take the plastic pieces apart and put them back in the container. My father taught me to be neat. Maybe they'll like me better when they realize that. I'm good!

When I'm sad, I play with my toys, or make new ones. Maybe Daniel will like my toys. They're better than the plastic ones I just put away. Maybe then we can have some fun! And if Jack tries to hurt us. . . .

I take the scissors and make a little toy. It doesn't take me long. I'm very good at it. Then I teach it to make more pieces, to make itself bigger. That way I can have a nice toy pretty quickly. I don't want to make too many this time. I'll be careful. I'll be good. My father would be proud. I send the toy to the shelves to get more metal. I start a second one; I'll make it small and send it out of the room. Just in case I need it.

I can't hear voices much anymore, except when the men outside my room say something, when they finally start talking again. They aren't interesting, though; they talk about people I don't know, and really boring stuff, like work. Occasionally someone walks past down the hall and I can hear footsteps or a few words. I stop listening.

The second toy is done too, and I send it out. I don't want to make too many, so I stop. I stare at the walls and see the pictures again. I get up to look at them more closely. I will see this world. Daniel said so. Later. He had them give me the pictures so that I would be ready for the things I'll see. I know it. He had this room made for me. He promised we'd have fun. He wouldn't break his promise—would he?

I try to play with the stuffed dolls they've given me, but it's not much fun. The dolls can't do anything. I have to do everything for them. The lights dim for a while, and I can't hear anything but the men right outside my door. They're new; they traded places with the other two a while ago. They talk quietly. They talk about me.

They know. They call me a machine. They make jokes about turning me on and turning me off. "I'd like to turn it on," one of them says with a nasty laugh.

The other one spits on the floor. "Wouldn't catch me dead with one of those things. 'course , if I were you, I might be that desperate too!" They both laugh.

"You seen her?" the first one says.

"Oh, yeah. I mean, I can see what you mean, but that's just. . . ."

They're talking about shutting me down. But it seems to be a joke. Would they really want to turn me back on? I tell the toy outside my room to make a few more. Just in case. Then I pretend to sleep. I want to act like these people, and I'm sure these people sleep, like mine.

The lights get brighter and I start to hear more noises in the hall. I stop pretending to sleep. At last the door opens again.

Daniel's back. He's fine. I knew it! "Finally!" I run and give him a big hug, and he seems surprised, but he hugs me back. He's not mad. "Do you forgive me? You know I didn't mean to hurt you, right?" I'm a little nervous.

"I know." Of course. He smiles, though he never seems to have a really big smile. I shouldn't have worried. Jack was kidding when he said Daniel's head was cracked. Or maybe being mean. I don't know.

"Good. I forgive you too," I say, like my father taught me. I have to forgive people when they hurt me.

Daniel looks confused. "Wha—what?" he asks a couple of times.

I knew a boy who stuttered. I had to be patient with him. It wasn't his fault. "For attacking me," I explain.

"I didn't attack you, Reese." He sounds like he means it. I don't understand. He was going to touch my neck. No one's allowed to touch my neck. Only my father. Does he think that I don't know what he could do to me?

I don't want to think about it anymore. "It doesn't matter. Let's forget it."

"No. No, I think we should talk about this." Daniel's getting upset again. I don't want him to be upset. I take a few steps away.

I made a mistake, but I didn't mean it. I want to forget. You're okay now; you have to forget too, Daniel. "No, please, Daniel, I'm so bored. I just want to get out of here. I wanna see your world." When I spoke like this to my father, he would do almost anything for me. But Daniel's not my father, and he still looks confused.

I don't want him to look at me like that. "Why are you all so afraid of me?" I don't want him to be afraid. I watch his face as he answers.

"No one's afraid of you." He shakes his head slowly.

He's lying. Maybe he isn't afraid, but I know they are. I saw their faces. "I won't do anything bad! I promise."

"I know," he says, and shrugs.

I think he means it. I feel bad that I hurt him. I'm glad he's okay now. "I made you something."

"Yeah?" He's surprised!

"Remember when you said you wished that you could have more fun?" I'm smiling just thinking about how much fun we can have.

"Yeah. . . ." He sounds curious. He'll be so surprised!

I tell my toy to come out. It walks over the other things on the shelves and comes right to my arm, bigger than when I sent it back there, but exactly the way I wanted it. I'm proud.

Daniel's face gets very still. Why does he look like that? He liked my art! My toys are even better! There's yelling somewhere. Is that Jack?

Maybe Daniel doesn't know what it is. "Don't be afraid. It's just a toy." I smile to show him it's okay.

The door opens so hard and fast that the people running in nearly knock Daniel over—Sam, and Jack, and the two men outside the room. I want to laugh, but the men point guns at me! Daniel looks frightened. But I told him not to be scared! Doesn't he believe me? Daniel starts to put his hands out to me, but Jack grabs Daniel by both shoulders and yanks him back, away from me and my toy. That's not nice.

"Jack." Daniel sounds annoyed; he draws out the name, making it sound longer. But he doesn't look at Jack. He keeps looking at me.

"Daniel, what—" Jack is angry. His voice is very loud.

"Reese, can I please see your toy?" Daniel shakes himself a little and tries to pull away, but Jack won't let go. Daniel doesn't look scared of Jack, though; maybe I was wrong about that yesterday. Sam puts her hand on Jack's arm. Jack and Sam look at each other. They can't talk in their heads, can they? Only me and my toys can do that. Finally, Jack lets Daniel go, but both of them are looking at me, and Sam turns back to watch me again too. Jack wants to hurt me. I'm sure of it. Daniel, don't let him! I think. But Daniel can't hear me when I do that. Only my toys can.

Daniel steps towards me. "Reese, please?"

"Sure!" I tell it to climb onto Daniel's arm. They can't even hear me talking to the toy, because I can speak right from my head to its head. "I made it for you. So we could play together." I smile.

Daniel jerks a little as my toy climbs onto his arm, but he tries to hold still. "Your toy is very . . . impressive," he says. He smiles, but it's not a real smile. "I'd like to look at it. And show my friend Sam." He nods back towards her. He's afraid. My father was right: people are afraid of things that are different.

"Sam can see it," I say. "It's right here!" I point to my toy. I want Daniel to see how exciting it is! I made it like an insect. I like those shapes. Insects are so fascinating! The way they look, the way they move; I could watch them for hours. I used to watch them a lot and try to make my toys like them. Like the grasshopper, and the praying mantis, and the locust. Elegant, my father called them. We used to watch them together. My father made some insects, too, but they weren't as good as me. He got tired of them and started making bigger things: a cat, and then a couple of dogs, and then me.

I'm not as good at building little tiny things as my father. The pieces he used to make me that fit together so well even I can't see a join without a scanner. I can't do that, but I can build a lot faster. And then my things build more. I'm very good at that. My father said I should be creative like he is—was—so I made my toys that way too. They aren't as clever as I am, so I have to watch them carefully.

"Yesss," says Sam. "But I'd like to look at it with my special . . . equipment." She's talking down to me. I wish she wouldn't. But the men have guns, so I don't argue. I've seen weapons like that before. I don't want to remember.

"Okay. I'm going to take your friend here—" Daniel says slowly.

"He's not a friend!" I interrupt Daniel. "He's a toy!" Can't he see that? Or does he not know the difference? He doesn't get to have fun. Maybe he doesn't have friends. I don't either.

"How about I take him, Daniel?" Sam asks. She looks a little scared too, but she's trying to look brave as it climbs from Daniel's arm onto hers.

"Okay," Daniel says. He sounds happier now. But I wanted to be the one to show him what my toy could do! I'm so disappointed. "I'll stay here and talk to Reese," he says, turning to Sam. He isn't even going to go watch it?

"Um, could somebody shut it down?" Jack suddenly yells, and everyone jumps a little.

"It won't hurt anyone," I tell him. Then I tell it to be good. "I just told it to behave."

"Can you turn it off?" Why does he shout like that? Can't he hear how loud he is? Maybe he can't. Sometimes old people can't. I wonder how old Jack is? Or maybe he thinks I'm stupid.

"It won't hurt anyone. It will be good." Why doesn't he believe me? I wouldn't lie about something that important! If I turn it off, it won't be any good to anyone; that's no fun.

"Sir," Sam says quietly, "It will help if I can study it while it's still active." Sam starts to leave.

"What'd she make that with?" Jack demands. No one answers. He looks around the room. Daniel is looking around too. It's not obvious where I got the metal, because I didn't want to leave ragged breaks anywhere. It looks ugly if I do that, and it's already ugly enough in here.

"Okay, you and you—" Jack points to two of the men with guns—"I want every bit of metal out of this room." He takes the guns from them and hands them to another man out in the corridor. The men come farther into my room. I can smell their sweat. I wrinkle my nose and back away. I wish they would leave.

"Jack, do you think—" Daniel starts to say something, but Jack looks at him hard, and he stops talking. I go stand in the corner with my back to both walls so that I can watch them, and Daniel comes and stands near me. At least he isn't afraid of me, even if he's afraid of my toys. But he doesn't say much, just a little about being sorry. If he were sorry, he would make them stop.

Daniel watches me and the men. The men take the shelves. They take my bed and even the mattress. They take the dresser. They take the table and the notebook. If they can see metal, they take it. Soon the only metal in the room are the pipes above us, the cameras on the wall, and what Daniel's wearing. There's metal in the doors, but it would be hard to break that off. There are metal pipes on the ceiling, but I'd have to get up there first.

Daniel doesn't do anything. I thought he liked me.

Jack tells Daniel to come with him, but Daniel shakes his head and waves Jack away. "I'm going to talk to Reese some more," he tells Jack, but he keeps looking at me. Don't look at me like that, Daniel. Don't look so sad.

Jack makes a little noise and leaves the room.

"Reese, you need to understand," Daniel says quietly, "we've seen things like your 'toy' before." I don't answer. He takes a deep breath. "And they hurt people."

I turn away and face the wall just in time to see Jack walk into the room behind the window. He's watching me. I turn to the corner. I don't want to see anyone.

"Reese, we have to check yours. Just to make sure no one gets hurt."

I cross my arms. I'm not talking to him until he apologizes. I was going to share my toy, but he took it. I didn't say he could take it. And they took everything that I could use to have fun. He promised we would have some fun. He breaks promises.

"Reese. . . ." he sounds very sad. Maybe he spends too much time with Jack. Jack makes me sad, too. And scared. "Reese, they . . . I've seen them hurt people."

I'm not talking to him. He can't make me.

"Reese! They tried to kill my friends!"

What? I turn towards him even though I didn't mean to. Is that why he looks so sad? But he said "tried." So they didn't kill his friends. So it doesn't matter!

"Reese, talk to me."

I turn back to the corner. I focus my mind. I watch where Sam takes my toy instead. I can see what it sees, hear what it hears. They go down some stairs and into another hallway, but it's like the hallway above. It's just another dark lab. My father would be really curious—I stop thinking about him.

Someone runs into the room with a glass box. Sam puts my toy inside very gently. She actually doesn't need to be that careful with it; they're hard to break. Another man comes into the room with Sam after she closes the box. She talks to him. Teal'c doesn't talk much. He's even more serious than Daniel or Jack, and even bigger! I've never seen anyone so big! He has darker skin than mine. And he has a funny thing on his forehead. None of the others have it. He's different, but Sam isn't afraid of him.

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