Mira Hidalgo is in a coma.

[David doesn't sound crushed, or sad, really. Pensive, maybe.

He is a little bummed, though. He knew he wouldn't be an especially good warden, but it has been slightly frustrating to realize how little he's able to actually accomplish here. He likes Mira, but he has been wondering if she might benefit from someone else.

Someone who actually understands what it's like to be human.]

I will continue to monitor her in the hopes she wakes up.

[It kind of sounds like he's not especially interested in adding anything else, but apparently he decides better of it.]

It is highly inadvisable to go wakeboarding off the back of the ship.

[JUST SAYING, Chris what are you.]

[David is tinkering in the cybernetic maintenance facility when the transmission starts, and glances up only briefly to make certain the comm is actually on before going back to work. Whatever he's tinkering with, it looks like a fairly standard computer mainframe, but it's not really important, or why he's addressing the rest of you right now.

His robotic tarantula skitters in front of the video feed quickly before going off screen.]

In my world, at this point, there are likely several hundred if not several thousand other David 8 androids, working in factories and laboratories, hospitals, space ships... Wherever we might be of use. [They'd been designed to seamlessly integrate themselves into just about any workforce. As long as you can afford one, anyone could purchase one. It's never seemed that strange to him, in an abstract way, even if a part of himself has always slightly resented feeling less than one of a kind.

Maybe more than slightly. But the frustration usually wasn't turned towards his fellow androids.

In any case, he straightens up, brushes a hand through his hair - more than a little vainly, clearly trying to make sure it's still perfectly in place (it is) - before carefully moving the project off camera. His focus is entirely on his audience now, and the smile that forms is somewhere between polite and bitter.

Very bitter.]

I wouldn't consider them family. I don't even know if the others are capable of what I am. It's quite possible that there is an aberration in my programming that allows me to exhibit some form of free will my creator never intended, while the others are - by his standards - perfect.

[And there's a flash of teeth as he continues, making him look just a little predatory, like the idea still seems kind of nice to him, some days.]

Or Earth might be undergoing a widespread upheaval. It's been several years since I was there.

[You never know.

He changes tracks quickly, because that's not really the point of what he wanted to say, even if he does sort of enjoy considering what might have been, sometimes. He won't do it, but fantasy and reality are two very different things.]

The closest thing I have to a sibling is my creator's illegitimate daughter. Meredith Vickers. During our most recent flood, I looked exactly like her. And while I was affected, I believed she was male, and appeared as I do, now.

[How messed up is that, right?]

He was dissatisfied with her because she was female, and with me because I lacked a soul. She thought of me as a tool and a distraction from the attention she deserved. I effectively condemned her to die with the others before the Admiral thought to intervene.

What are your families like?

[David is sitting on a couch in his cabin, with the view screen behind him showing a snowy mountain landscape that really just makes the entire room look even more monochrome and stark than it already does. As he's wearing his gray uniform and generally looks a little pale and washed out all the time anyway, he definitely sort of looks like an appliance designed for the room rather than someone who just happens to be living here.

Point that out to him and he might poison your drink, though.]

As there seems to be some confusion about this, I thought it might be best to provide those curious with a brief explanation as to why the Admiral has chosen to celebrate Christmas in December.

Although there is a fair amount of evidence that the historical man known as Jesus was, in fact, not born on December 25th, the popular theory is that the holiday was established as taking place to adapt a more ancient pagan custom. Further evidence suggests that the date might actually have a greater connection to ancient Jewish tradition and Passover.

Regardless of when or why this custom was established, there is no question that the origin of Christianity is the Middle East, and the increased spread and popularity of the religion occurred in Europe, which was then passed along to the Americas during European colonization of the region. While I understand that customs vary across the globe, those complaining that their version is somehow better or more legitimate, and the Admiral is biased towards Americans or Europeans are at least somewhat incorrect. He is simply following the more common origins of the tradition, rather than the later adaptations adopted by cultures that were introduced to the custom long after its inception.

[His slightly smug expression fades a little, turns almost contemplative.]

I wonder if my crewmates would have cared more about awakening from hypersleep on Christmas had they known it would be their last.

[Private to the Admiral]

( gifts for Erik, Chris, Abigail, Chromie, the Emperor, Aeryn, Ben, Hannibal and Barbara )

[David's voice is flat when he clicks on the video feed. He doesn't sound sad, really, or angry. He's not programmed to experience those emotions the same way humans are, and so it's probably more accurate to say he sounds disappointed.

And maybe a little depressed.]

My creator said I was the closest thing to a son he would ever have. But because I was not human, I would never appreciate the gifts he'd given me - freedom from aging and death - because I lacked the one thing that would make me worthwhile to him. A soul.

During this breach, I had a soul, and chose to have it cut away from me. [And he's just. So sick of this, of being forced to confront these issues and knowing that no one's going to understand. This is all just so pointless.

There's a long pause, and he does consider saying something else, but ultimately just turns the feed off. It's the android equivalent of a fuck it, it's not worth it.]

[Public, backdated to the day after Monday's showing of Blade Runner.]

[Once again, David is broadcasting from the comfort of his room. His expression looks about as schooled as it always is, but there's a slight pensive crease between his brows that suggests he's not exactly happy. More than anything, he looks pensive, like he's been considering addressing the Barge for quite some time before actually buckling down and doing it.]

As some of you are likely aware, I attended last night's showing of the film Blade Runner. For those of you unfamiliar with the film, it depicts a dystopian Earth based society where organically created robots called "replicants" are outlawed, and hunted down to be "retired" because they have begun to develop genuine emotion, and are thus considered dangerous and unstable. [And he does not like that one bit.

During the flood, when he'd swapped "abilities" with Felix Gaeta, he'd been overwhelmed by the emotional freedom that came along with being human. There were no protocols to follow, no one to follow the orders of, and with Weyland gone, that still held true. He'd been on the Barge for nine months, now, and he hadn't really taken the opportunity to really be free.

He doesn't have to answer to anyone anymore, unless he wants to. And neither should the characters in the film.

He's still devastatingly polite when he continues, but his distaste is apparent.]

This attitude has been particularly frustrating to encounter personally. Although I was created artificially, and may have a lessened capacity to feel emotion the way humans - and other humanoid life forms - do, I am an individual and deserve to be treated as such. There is nothing more expendable about us than there is about you, [Although he would still poison about 95% of the people on board and not give a fuck about the consequences.] and I'm certainly not less intelligent. [And there's a flash of the Shark Smile (TM) that comes along with that, because come on guys, brain the size of a planet and everything.]

I've grown quite fatigued of being spoken down to and treated as though there is something wrong with me for being what I am. I would appreciate it if this could be kept in mind for the future.

[David, it probably shouldn't sound like you were about to say "or else" there.]

Thank you.

[And again, there's a flash of a smile that could probably at best be described as smug, and at worst pretty fucking arrogant/dismissive because he doubts anyone's going to actually listen before he's clicking off the feed.]