Author's Notes: endless thanks to my beta Julie

Detachment

By SueS

Behold, I tell you a mystery; we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed. (I Cor. 15:51)

"We can take them." The thought was transmitted to me by Jack.

No doubt we could. I could have that staff weapon out of Darian's hand and aimed at Cronus before anyone knew what was happening. I would feel justified in doing such a thing. Behind the masks and the mud-paint on the faces of these warriors kneeling in submission to Cronus are men whose only desire is to be free. They want nothing more than to walk into their homes at the end of the day and be greeted with hugs and warm kisses from their wives and children. They want peace. They want freedom. They want a good life for themselves and their families. These people do not serve Cronus out of desire or belief. They serve him out of fear. They serve him because he has suppressed their spirit. It is the suppression of their spirit that makes them bow down before this man and obey his commands. It is the suppression of their spirit that angers me the most.

It angers me.

Robots are not supposed to feel anger. They are not supposed to feel anything. After all, we are nothing more than machines. Bits of wire and circuitry designed to store and process data. When Harlan created us we received the memories and knowledge our human counterparts, so we understand the concepts of such things as love and fear and anger and joy, but this goes beyond that. This is not just understanding the meaning behind the words, it is being the words. It is being in love. It is being afraid. It is being angry. It is being full of joy. Although we are robots, created in a lab, Jack, Sam, Teal'c, and I experience real emotions. I have noticed that I, more than the others, seem to experience emotions on a much deeper level. For a while, I thought there might have been a flaw in my design.

"Harlan?"

I watched as he carefully ran his fingers over the rough surface of the old pipe. I did not know what this pipe was attached to or where it was going; I only knew that at this moment it was of great concern to Harlan. When he had found the spot he was looking for (it looked no different than any other spot as far as I could tell), he took a large wrench and banged clumsily at the pipe. He then placed his ear on the spot and listened intently.

"Oh dear, not much time," he said as he shook his head. He quickly walked over to a large gray machine with pressure gages on one side. "Yes, Daniel?" he finally said tapping gingerly at the glass on one of the gages with his finger. It did nothing.

"Is there something wrong with me?"

"Wrong? Wrong? What makes you think that?" he asked nervously. The way he grasped the wrench made me wonder if he thought that a few whacks on the side of my head would fix me if anything was wrong. "No, no, there is nothing wrong with you. Everything is fine. Everything will be fine. You will see. It is better. No?"

"No ...yes," I said raising my finger to stop any thought Harlan might have had about fixing me the Harlan way. I relaxed a bit when I saw him relax his grip on the wrench and continue inspecting the gages. I followed him as he walked to the back of the machine. "I know," I continued, "that when you created us from our human counterparts we not only got their physical characteristics, but we also got all their experiences and memories and everything that went with that."

"Yes," said Harlan.

I was not sure if the yes was meant for me or the machine, but I continued anyways. "What I don't understand is why do we feel? I mean ..." I waited while Harlan removed a small metal plate from the back of the machine. "We're robots, right? We're machines. So how can a machine feel?"

Harlan looked at me and sighed. The poor man had two machines that were demanding his attention at the moment. One a large gray metal box that didn't seem to be responding to any of his bangs or taps, and me, a robot cloned from Dr. Daniel Jackson. A robot who had begun to wonder if maybe now was not the best time to have this conversation.

"I do not know how you feel. I do not know why you feel. You just do." His tone conveyed frustration. Again, I was not sure if it was meant for me or the other machine. He placed the panel against the wall behind him and looked up at me curiously. "Do you not want to feel?"

"Oh no," I said a bit fearfully. This was not how I wanted this conversation to go. While I gathered my thoughts Harlan gestured with his head to the opening. "If you don't mind?" he said.

Not knowing what I was doing, but knowing what to do, I reached deep inside the machine and began turning the appropriate valves. "What I'm trying to say is I think I feel things stronger than the others do." The last valve was rusted shut and I had to apply more pressure to the handle to get it open. Once I felt the pressure had stabilized, I removed my arm.

"I know Teal'c feels things, but I think the whole Jaffa "keep-your-emotions-under-wraps" thing keeps him ... Ummm ..." For a linguist, I was having a difficult time finding the right words. I waved my hand in the air as if stirring the air would reveal what I was looking for. "Under wraps ... emotionally."

"Teal'c is Jaffa, yes?" Harlan asked. I placed my hand on the panel as he tightened the last bolt. I nodded. "He is different, no?" I started to nod but hesitated. Harlan stepped back to admire his handiwork, then looked at me and pointed to the panel. I tightened the bolts further with my hand. Satisfied, Harlan walked back to the gages.

"Well, then there's Sam and Jack," I said following close behind like a child with a million things to say. "Sam is great to talk to about facts and theories, but it seems that's all she wants to talk about, facts and theories. Jack, well, I've tried to have deep meaningful conversations with him, but ..." I let my thought taper off as Harlan once again tapped gentle on the same gage. Again it did nothing. A scowl crossed his face as he harrumphed in my direction. I was sure that was meant for me.

"So, I was wondering," I continued cautiously watching the wrench and the grasp he had on it, "if maybe you made me different."

"I did not make you different Daniel." Harlan retraced his steps along the pipe and stopped. Was this the same spot? He placed his ear on the pipe and listened carefully. Two light taps with the wrench. Listen. One good whack. Listen. Satisfied, Harlan smiled at me.

"You are who you are."

"Kill him," Cronus commands.

There is so much pain and remorse on Darian's face. If I could only tell him that I don't blame him for what he is about to do. If I could only let him know that it will be all right.

Darian raises the staff weapon.

If I could only tell him it will be ... better.

I close my eyes as I hear the weapon charge.

"Harlan, what's going to happen to us when we ... die?"

Realistically I knew what I was asking was not possible. I was a robot and robots don't die. But you can't be a robot cloned from a real human without thinking in terms such as life and death when you're considering the finality of your own existence. It's especially difficult when you are the cloned robot of Daniel Jackson.

As though verifying my thoughts, Harlan responded. "Die? Oh, you will not die, Dr. Jackson. You are robot. Robot's do not die."

He sat at his control central poking haphazardly at the buttons on the console in front of him. His choice of buttons seemed to be guided more by whim than by any factual information that was being displayed on the many monitors hanging above his head.

"Yes, I know that. But even robots break down. So what's going to happen to us when we break down?"

Harlan reached up to one of the monitors over his head and adjusted the brightness. I was not so sure Harlan knew what he was doing at the moment. "Oooo," he squeaked nervously at the graph being display. He then looked at me and pasted a smile on his face.

"If you break down, I will fix you, no? That is what we do. We fix things. We are a team. It will be better. You will see."

Before I could respond, Jack's gruff voice crashes through the intercom. "Hey! Are those vents in sector four open yet?"

"Not yet sir," replied Sam from the other side of the complex.

The smile faded from Harlan's face. He once again turned his attention to the many buttons, knobs and switches on the main control board. Worry knit his brow as he studied his choices again. Finally, he closed his eyes tightly, raised his hand high over head and blindly let his finger drop down onto a randomly selected button. His face still scrunched up in fear, he slowly opened one eye. Realizing that he had not blown everyone up, he let out a sigh of relief.

"Is it better Major Carter?" he asked confidently into the microphone.

"It is not," boomed Teal'c's very factual response.

Harlan's countenance changed once again. Disappointed he shook his head and whispered to me, "I do not understand. That has always worked before."

"Harlan, are you guessing again?" growled Jack.

The man gave me a small guilty smile.

"You know, as much as I'd love to stand here all day and hold this pressure valve closed with my bare hands," continued Jack. "I'd really like to be doing something different. So, can you get that damn vent open?"

"Um, we're, ah, working on it Colonel O'Neill," replied Harlan. He did not sound very confident.

"Daniel, we need to have the generator from Sector 24-B taken off-line before we can close these vents."

Following Sam's instructions I reached over and pressed the button directly above the one Harlan had pushed.

"That's it," yelled Sam.

"Thank you," bellowed Jack gruffly.

Harlan applauded. "See, this is good. We work together. We fix things"

I smiled and nodded in agreement. The crisis averted I brought the conversation back to my unanswered question. "You know Harlan, even machines don't last forever. Sometimes they breakdown and they can't be fix. Sometimes all we can do is salvage a few parts to use someplace else, and then we throw away the rest." I did not find much comfort in thinking I might come back as a pressure gage regulator or worse, a useless pile of wires, plastic and silicon that was swept into a corner. "So, what's going to happen to us when we get to the point where we can't be fixed anymore?"

"Why do think about such things, Daniel? It will be thousands of years before anything like that would ever happen. That is much too much time to be spent worrying."

I tried to continue. To press the issue, but he raised his hand to stop me. "Do not worry, Daniel. When that time comes, you will see. It will be better."

The blast hits me at the base of my neck throwing my head violently backwards. My body seems to be falling much slower. I feel my head fly across the room, bounce along the floor and then roll to a stop.

This is something new. I can feel my head resting on the floor as I hear my body slump to the ground at the other side of the room. I try to communicate with Jack, but there is no response. I guess this is the end, but I wonder how long it will take before it's finally over. I know that a severed human head can continue to react for several minutes until the brain dries out. Especially if it has been done quickly, like with a guillotine. Since my head was severed from my main power source which was in my chest, I wonder how long it will take for the residual power in my brain to drain out completely. I wait for the end.

I can hear Cronus raging and stomping around the room. He is carrying on about being tricked and crying that restitution will be made. The heavy footsteps of Jaffa scrambling nervously around the room reverberates through my head as the warriors of Juna are quickly herded out. "Return the prisoners to their cell and then get as much information out of them as you can before you kill them," Cronus snarls before storming out of the room.

Soon, the room is silent. Slowly, I open my eyes and look around as best I can from the position I am in. The place is empty and I have been left here all alone on the floor. "Jack?" I whisper cautiously, not really expecting an answer. I am amazed that so much of me is still functioning. I can see, I can hear, I can feel, I can smell. I can speak. I run my tongue over my lips. I can taste. It is, to say the least, a bit disconcerting to be a fully functioning disembodied head lying forgotten in the middle of the floor. It's even more disconcerting when you realize that nothing has changed. If my end was to come. I would have thought that it would have happened by now, but I am still here. I do not feel myself draining in any way. I feel the same as I did before.

Some time later, much later, I hear a solitary set of footsteps enter the room. I quickly close my eyes. A hand grabs the back of my hair and I feel myself swinging carelessly upside down at someone's side as they carry me outside. My captor whistles as he carries me for some distance. The leaves crunch beneath his feet as a nightingale calls to its mate. Suddenly, I feel myself being tossed through the air. I flip over twice before I feel myself bounce and roll into a pile of leaves and twigs. My captor's whistle fades away.

I am afraid to open my eyes again. I'm afraid to be hit by the reality that my final resting place, my eternity, is to be spent atop pile of rotting leaves. There is nothing more for me than to be sniffed and rolled and scratched at by curious creatures. Bits and pieces of me to be chewed off and carried away to make beddings for nests. If this is my end I'm not so sure that this is better. If only I could die. Really die. That might be better. But, I can not. I am a robot and robots can not die. So, I will keep my eyes closed and hope that in time it will all go away. That is the best I can hope for. That it will all go away. Then there will be nothing, and perhaps that will be better.

"Dan'yel."

I open my eyes and see Sha're standing in the opening of our tent. She is smiling at me. Looking down I see our son sleeping peacefully beside me. I run my fingers through his dark curly hair. Abby pops out from behind her mother happily clutching a small bouquet of those sweet purple flowers she loves so much. She rushes over to me and gently tickles her little brother's cheek with the flowers. He stirs, rubs his eyes, and coos at his big sister.

"These are for Isaac," she says proudly.

Isaac begins to chew contently on my finger, but shows his appreciation for his sister's gift by grabbing at the flowers and shaking them. Abby giggles which causes her brother to smile a big wet toothless grin.

"See, he likes them." She claps and jumps around the tent in celebration of her accomplishment.

I sit up and place Isaac in my lap, gently wrestling what's left of the bouquet away from him before he has a chance to eat the whole thing. Sha're sits down beside me. Her hand softly strokes my back as she reaches down to kiss her son on the forehead and then me on the lips. Warm breathe tickles my ear as she whispers, "I have a surprise for you."

"Purple flowers?" I ask with a smile.

Her eyes dance with mischievous as she shakes her head. "You must close your eyes," she says softly while gently brushing her fingertips over my eyelids.

In the darkness I can hear people entering the tent. Whispered voices. Familiar voices. Finally one voice speaks out clearly.

"Hey Danny-boy."

A smile is on my face before I even open my eyes.

"Jack!"

"Happy birthday!" he says placing a brightly wrapped package on the mat in front of me.

I look around the tent. It is filled with family and friends. Sam, Janet, Ska'ara, Kasuf, Bra'tac, and many others. Even General Hammond is here. Abby has found her favorite spot in the lap of her favorite uncle Teal'c. They are both smiling.

"So, are you surprised?" asked Jack.

"Yes, I am."

"This is pretty good, huh?" The pride in his voice suggests that he had something to do with this little party.

I look at my children and my wife and all the family and friends that fill my tent. I nod my head in agreement.

"This is good. This is ... better." I say quietly.

The end.