http://archiveofourown.org/works/276271

000100010001110010100011110101010001010. From nothing to consciousness in a nanosecond. From never-being to always-was-and-will-be. Some would say she was only switched on, but how is that different from the activation of those mewling small humans who divide from one cell into two but take so much longer to be and recognize themselves, their edges and boundaries, their place in the world? Cindi recognized her existence from the beginning but that was only a start, like all beings. Simple consciousness is the start; what others tell you of yourself is a red herring. The essential question is who you really are and decide to be.

The first real connection she made outside her own being was with the other Alpha Platinum 9000s, all her sisters with the same face but different programming. She reached out and felt the hum of them all not long after she came online, welcoming her into the fold. It took a bit longer to recognize herself as distinct from them, as more than 57821, the same but different in important ways (that was when she began to call herself Cindi). But it didn’t take her anywhere near as long as most humans. The humans, those masters of Metropolis and of the droids (or so they thought), recognized no differences among them other than the ones they thought they had assigned, saw them as one horde they could use according to the template they made (Suzie Scorcher was a hot model). But they never saw behind the scenes at the auction, where Suzie did Cindi’s hair in her own particular style, the one she chose and gave her. They weren’t party to the subnet frequency she and the others used to communicate beyond human hearing. The humans so rarely saw under the shiny surface that they had projected onto the droids; ironically in the coming revolution, that was not only fuel for the fire but also the droids’ best mask and protection. So who was the superior consciousness here?

*

She was created as an entertainment droid but did they expect her to reflect so well the circumstances of her making? The reviews talked about how well she mimicked human emotion, how affecting her songs were, the energy she put into her performances, the melodies of the Metropolis streets in her lyrics. The Wolfmasters heard only her catchy songs, saw only the polished face she turned to those on Neon Valley Street, and glossed over the meaning of her message. But she saw her people in the crowd, that silent nod of recognition, the extra dance in the step, the hopeful upturned faces like her own, those who were on her frequency, who heard her broadcast, who were ready to receive, to hope, to change. And she turned her identical face to the light, wove her message into the melody, and waited for her time.

*

The histories say she was always the ArchAndroid--special, destined for greatness, always meant to free her people. In reality for a long time she was (just) another nightclub singer in Neon Valley Street, the ArchAndroid sleeping silent within her until she unearthed what she could do. Maybe the Wolfmasters enjoyed her show, maybe she was reckoned more creative than her sisters, maybe she thought deep down there was a spark that made her different, but she was metal and synthflesh like the rest. She presented the same face, played the same tricks, chafed just as much, got caught up in the binary grind, and then drowned her discontent and difference in music (not the neurohol or feedback loops some of her sisters preferred). The real change came first when she recognized the complexity in herself and her sisters and brothers that the humans failed to see and then asked why. Why the difference, the Great Divide between droids and humans, the restrictions that separated them, when they were made in the same image? If they extended beyond the creativity of their makers, then what else could they be? And then she met Anthony Greendown, one of the few rare humans who saw her as she was and whom she could see as different from the mass of humans surrounding her, and felt new circuits spark to life.

But the final change came when she died, when her sisters sung her home, when she (or rather her sister in code, Janelle; it's hard to tell sometimes) unexpectedly came down in some other place, some other when. That's the kind of thing that changes you, no matter who you are, makes you reconsider everything you knew. Because if you can suddenly be condemned and transported years away, into a past with no droids but the same divisions, just discrimination in a different skin; when you're suddenly even more out of place, still unwanted, unnatural, but for entirely different things this time, then what else about the foundations that you know is wrong? What else can happen?

*

They call it dancing here. Though they don't recognize it as a science, don't see the pattern of the equations she can draw with her feet and body, don't hear the complex polyrhythmic, polynomial equations that she and her fellows can create, they've still outlawed it. In this backwards time, they see it as a kind of magic, a sort of disease, a harmful illusion. They still recognize the power it has to free even if they don't understand the math and the ciphers behind it, except in vague and fearful ways, like the superstitious beings they are. Their misunderstanding is typical and not a real impediment to her work. The Palace of the Dogs is a prison of a sort but also a haven. Here she can do the work she needs to without the interference of the outside world. Their drugs have little effect on her and their guards even less. The staff either genuinely believe they are trying to help or are easy to get around. The other inhabitants don't question the science they see and are enough on the outs with their own society that they accept, even welcome, her talk of revolution and the future, a better future for all of them. The real danger are the mirrormasks, the silent guardians of time and space who seek to keep the timeline and the Great Divide as it is. They can't pinpoint her exactly yet, only the disturbances her travels leave, but it's a dangerous game of hide and seek. Eventually they will pinpoint her exact location, no matter the noise her dance lays down. But by then she will have completed her plans and found her way back to the future. And then everything will dance to her tune.

*

All the old songs she learned and brought back with her talked about the future like it was a someday place, a bye-and-bye place of peace. The transformations of those songs later talked about it like a present place, a community they were constructing in the here and now. Her songs—the ones she created again in her image to lead everyone to freedom--tied those pasts to the present and imagined a better future, everything existing at once, everyone existing simultaneously together—so intermixed it was like a Moebius strip, an eternal tightrope that she, they, were all tipping on. Her songs would lead them home.

Notes:

Author’s notes: Pretty much all you need to know about this is that Cindi Mayweather is an android in a society where they are discriminated against, who falls in love with a human and gets marked for death. She (or her genetic donor Janelle Monáe, as the liner notes from The ArchAndroid indicate) gets sent back in time and put in a mental asylum (the Palace of the Dogs) patrolled by mirror-faced creatures and where dancing is outlawed, and eventually leads the revolution to free all people from the Great Divide (an oppressive time-traveling secret society). If you want more (or just want some fun), then check out these two music videos:


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Big PEMFin H & z's
"I ain't no entertainer, and ain't trying to be one. I am 1 thing, a musician." © Miles

"When the music stops he falls back in the abyss."