Endless chasing. Why? Why must I always chase? I don't understand the fear of those around me. I never hurt anyone, I think, at least not intentionally - which is more than can be said for most of my kind. And yet, without consideration, they run, afraid of me. No, not me, afraid of my kind. They're all the same, just like the humans and the apes before them, blindly trusting instincts and assumptions like laws. I try so hard to interact, to tell them I'm different. What do I get for it? Chasing, or chased.
I used to see them differently, as individuals, as independent minds, capable of seeing past the mess of my current form. I was wrong, they judge so easily, I can't get close enough for them to hear me. How can they understand me if they can't hear me? I have grown to accept that I will be unaccepted, but I still feel a spark of hope when I find another Immune. The spark soon dies, as the sheer terror in their unseeing eyes tells me all I need to know.
Sometimes I think I understand their prejudice, when I look in a mirror or see my reflection in the glistening pavement after rain, I realise why they run. But then I catch myself, I am not irrational, not like them. I do not judge, must not judge, if I want to keep from killing I cannot afford to judge. I know the Immune are inferior, but I do not judge, I accept that they will continue in their worthless existence and allow them to do so. Then, from time to time, I approach one, unarmed, safe, they do not need to be afraid, and yet they are. Always.
There! Another one! It is old, broken, It's mind is set, too sure in itself. I can't even begin to expect a moment of trust. Maybe I could try to catch it? No, it wouldn't listen, and it might hurt itself.
There! What about that one? No, it is undeveloped, it couldn't be fair if it tried. It has a guardian too, I made that mistake once, never again.
There! It is alone, crying, afraid, but not of me. It is wounded, in pain and vulnerable. Perhaps it needs help, I could heal it with a touch, a whisper, if I could get close enough. Perhaps I'm too cautious...maybe, just this once, it will trust me.
I close my eyes, become real again, I take a breath. Not fresh air, but air with flavour, the fumes of a billion engines fill my lungs. The soot of a billion fires hits my face with each gust of wind. I look at it properly, into its eyes, deeper still, into its mind. I see the darkness of a billion nights, the grey of a billion storms. Perhaps we share more than I thought. I walk to it, unarmed, safe, it shouldn't be afraid. And yet it is.