Work in Progress

[deerna]

Rating: SAFE
Fandom: Overwatch
Relationship: None
Tags: pre-canon, backstory, pre-omnic crisis
Wordcount: 2986
Notes: written for Zenyatta Zine. This is the scene referenced in On the River of Time, when Zenyatta was young and prone to tantrums.

Summary:
The Shambali visit a very famous museum, Zenyatta as a fight with Mondatta, and what makes someone's identity is questioned.

Excerpt:

“What's history to you, Zenyatta?”

“A human affair.” Zenyatta sounded bitter to his own sensors.

“It very much is,” Mondatta conceded. He gestured at the paintings surrounding them. “Most of this ancient art exists because someone wanted to be remembered in history, either in name or effigy. What do omnics have in their name, in the flow of history?”

“A war.” Zenyatta turned to look at Mondatta. “So you know.”

{ read on AO3 | read here }

Mondatta was in the middle of his morning lecture when little Aditi started glitching.

It was a humid, hot day and the conference room was full of people, to the point that there weren't enough chairs for everyone. Many humans chose to stand along the walls, close to the open stained-glass doors that gave onto the beautiful garden that surrounded the pavillon, rather than miss the lecture. They were too absorbed in Mondatta's words to pay attention to what was happening behind him and to the way the row of Shambali sitting behind the podium had suddenly became restless in their seats.

Zenyatta tried to keep his focus on Mondatta's lecture, but it was hard to ignore the quiet whirr of Efe's slender axis and the noisy shift of Mutan's bulk as they turned in his direction. He looked up just in time to see them blinking their visor lights at him - mindful of Mondatta's request to turn the Internal Network off during the conference, but it didn't mean they didn't have any other means of communication.

Aditi, Aditi, did you see Aditi? Efe blinked, their LEDs flickering shakily in their agitation.

Do something, before it gets worse, Mutan's followed, stuck in an endless, panicked loop.

When he turned towards her, Zenyatta saw the little omnic sitting stiffly in her chair, static-fear pouring of her in waves, hands pressed between her leg joints as she attempted to stop the twitching running through them. He knew that she was trying to keep her cool because she knew that the sudden spasms looked scary to humans, who weren't used to seeing omnics acting like that. A glitching omnic was a defective omnic, in their eyes.

I'll take care of it, Zenyatta blinked back to the two worried omnics, trying to convey reassurance and calm. A wave of anger and worry washed over his systems like a shower of static. As the days went on, he regretted coming on that trip more and more, but as the oldest omnic in the group it was his duty to be a safe haven in a crisis when Mondatta wasn't available. He needed to keep his emotions in check; absolute priority was to bring Aditi to a safe place before the glitch went completely out of control.

He centered himself on his servos and stood up as casually as he could. A security guard in blue uniform looked at him with an interrogative expression on their face but didn't do anything else, as he calmly walked towards Aditi, picked her up and exited the room through one of the open glass doors. He kept going with that precious, twitchy burden in his arms for a while, until they were at a distance he deemed safe, and then he let her down on the grass. Aditi curled up on her side and shuddered through her reparation subroutines.

The garden around them was a burst of green and white and hundreds of shades of red in Zenyatta's visual feed. He allowed the freshness of it to soothe his processors. He missed spending time outside, just looking at the sky and at the birds; he didn't like spending so much time around humans.

“Sorry,” Aditi creaked after a while. “I was so- scared. I tried- to stop it- but-”

“You have no reason to apologize,” Zenyatta told her. “It is a part of you and you should not be forced to hide it like this.”

Aditi's head appendages drooped as she tilted her head to the side, a smile and an expression of sadness all rolled in one. “I thank you- for your kindness- brother, but- I accepted the- harshness of this world. I don't mind hiding.”

“Everyone knows the glitch is harmless.”

“We know- but they don't,” Aditi corrected him. “It's okay, Zenyatta. We can't ruin this for Mondatta- It's very important- for the Shambali- that we don't cause- trouble."

Irritation bloomed in Zenyatta's core once again, but he didn't say anything. She was right, and he was being immature.

When Efe found the invitation for the Annual International Conference for the Posthumanist Future of Philosophy in the Shambali's shared inbox, everyone thought for the longest time it had been a mistake. They were just a small group of rogue omnics living in isolation, how could anyone invite them to such a high profile event? Professor Eriksson had to show up on their step, before they were convinced it was real; it was hard to believe that such an important and respected scholar in the human world could also be sympathetic and interested in their cause.

The Conference was the Shambali's first time in the public eye. After years spent in hiding, they were going to show to the world that they were new beings and not just defective piles of metal ready for scrapping. They were souls who could think and feel. People, like everyone else, who took the plane to travel, who were given rooms at hotels, who were expected to sign their papers and show an ID.

An exhilarating fairy tale that got shattered too quickly - on the first day of lectures. Zenyatta was sitting behind the podium with his brothers, watching Mondatta's back as he leaned forward towards the audience in oblivious excitement; he listened to the rude questions and looked at the men with the guns around the room, saw the mixture of fascination and fear on the humans' faces, and he understood.

“We need- to go back. Mondatta- will be furious- if he sees we are- not there,” Aditi said, and took his hand, pulling him from the stormy cloud of thoughts that was darkening his mind.

Giving one last look to the beautiful park around them, committing the lush greenery around them to memory, Zenyatta closed his fingers around her smaller palm and let himself be back to the stuffy pavillon.

*

It turned out, unsurprisingly, that nine omnics visiting the most famous art museum in Paris tended to stick out like a bunch of crooked screws.

Men and women in rich, bright clothes caught in various situations by the painters' brushes in luxurious natural landscapes were the main subjects of the paintings hanging off the walls in that particular wing of the gallery. There were lots of human visitors, who seemed more concerned with gawking at the omnics moving through, than with looking at the artworks. Mondatta didn't seem to notice; he went from one painting to the other, enthralled, like the moths that during the summer flew around the candles' flames at the temple. Zenyatta couldn't tell if he was unaware of them or if he just didn't care.

“I don't know if I understand it,” Obliq admitted next to him, her tall frame curling on itself while she whispered directly in Zenyatta's aural sensor. “Do you?”

“I don't,” Karel interjected before Zenyatta could say anything. “Why paint an inaccurate picture of a person when you could just capture a high resolution reproduction of them with any camera?”

“Photography didn't exist back then,” Pikt pointed out, turning towards them.

“But why paint- a picture of a landscape- or a person- if you can just- go out- and see them?” Aditi shyly asked. “The garden- at the pavillon- is prettier than any painting.”

They are pretty, though, Mutan spoke through the shared chat log. Humans do not have the same specifications we have. Given their limitations, their skill is undeniable. I appreciate this.

“She is right. I do not think I could paint this with acrylics and a brush. Not without some serious programming,” Cecil nodded, pointing at the closest painting.

Shocked beeps and gasps, a chorus of distressed whispering erupted from the omnics, interrupting the flow of conversation for a moment.

“You can't just say that… For shame, Cecil, you should know better-”

Cecil! Programming is something that humans do to fix us, we're people not tools, the war-

“We learn on our terms-”

“We can learn on our terms-”

“That is enough,” Zenyatta said. Everyone was instantly quiet, like when Mondatta was talking. A reminder of his authority over his siblings. He'd never liked that. “Programming is not a dirty word. It is a part of ourselves. We need to be aware of the way it influences the way we behave. We cannot get rid of it anymore than humans can get rid of their instincts. They are animals as much as we are machines. We cannot deny who we are.”

“That is very well said, Zenyatta,” Mondatta's voice said from behind him. “If Cecil had said something wrong, he wouldn't have deserved to be attacked like that, anyway, my siblings.”

Muttered apologies bloomed from the gathered Shambali and Mondatta's white and golden faceplate seemed to morph under the harsh lighting of the gallery into marble, ethereal and foreign. “Good. Let's continue our visit, shall we?”

They started walking all together. Used to watch his siblings' from behind, Zenyatta fell back. He noticed with surprise that Mondatta was doing the same thing, keeping pretty close. “Maybe it was too soon for them to go out in the world, but I wanted them to see,” Mondatta murmured, low-pitched enough so that only Zenyatta could hear him, his faceplate still turned towards their siblings.

“I do not think we could have ever been ready for any of this, not after the kind of lives we had,” Zenyatta answered. “What did you wanted us to see? I cannot understand what is the value in these old pieces of canvas.”

“What's history to you, Zenyatta?”

“A human affair.” Zenyatta sounded bitter to his own sensors.

“It very much is,” Mondatta conceded. He gestured at the paintings surrounding them. “Most of this ancient art exists because someone wanted to be remembered in history, either in name or effigy. What do omnics have in their name, in the flow of history?”

“A war.” Zenyatta turned to look at Mondatta. “So you know.”

Mondatta casually re-arranged the draping over his shoulder. “That we're being watched? Of course. I'm sure that professor Eriksson meant well, but the reason his proposal was approved by the organisational committee-”

“It was never about recognizing omnics as people. This is a test.”

“It is.” Mondatta looked up at Zenyatta. There was absolutely no kind of emotion coming from him.

“You do not sound angry.”

“You don't either.” A smile in Mondatta's voice told Zenyatta that he was being called out. “This is why I wanted you to come along, Zenyatta. You're the kindest, smartest omnic I know.”

“I do not know if I am kind,” Zenyatta said. He was having trouble articulating sounds. It was as if his vocal synthesizer was stuck, and there was a strange heat around his processors that made it hard to think. “I do not know if I am smart.”

“You are,” Mondatta insisted. He was closer now, and his hand closed around the joint of Zenyatta's elbow. It was such a strange gesture - human-like. “You're also the most tuned with other people's needs. You know how important this is, for the Shambali and for all the omnics around the world.”

“I do not know anything about that,” Zenyatta grated out, without looking at Mondatta. He couldn't bear the sight of him. He pulled away with a rough tug, causing the older model to emit the slightest burst of static-surprise.

He started walking before he could think about it, putting distance between his mentor as quickly as he could. As he got further and further from him and from the rest of the group, his inner network was flooded with shock and alarmed messages from his siblings. He disconnected with an angry hiss, and kept stomping his way towards the exit, dodging curious and startled human visitors. Nobody stopped him, not even the blue-clad men that followed them around everywhere.

The sky outside was starting to turn pink and orange and it was beautiful. Dark shadows were starting to spread out around the tourists' feet and the buildings. The river was calling to him; he crossed the road, went down the stairs that brought to the riverbank; he sat down to watch the water flow in front of him.

*

The water was calm and comforting. The bridge loomed over him, thin pieces of metal and thick stonework fighting the quiet strength of the river like a silent statue. The skies above were turning dark, shades of pink and purple streaking around the clouds. On the other side, the dome of some kind of religious building peeked from behind a few sparse trees.

Zenyatta heard Aditi's soft steps before he saw her reflected in the smooth surface of the river. It was nice to see how different and similar they were; like human siblings, in a way. The shape of their faceplates had nothing in common, but they both had an array of LED lights on their foreheads in the shape of a square, nine bright dots that shone in the dark. The slots that housed their visual units were cut at the same angle. Her frame in general was much shorter and wider than his, so that he looked more slender and she looked somewhat stout, even if their head units were the same size.

“Has Mondatta sent you?” he asked her. It came out colder than he meant to; he was actually happy to see her. He had not realised how lonely life was without his siblings until he had separated himself from them. He'd been gone for not even an hour and already he was regretting storming off like that.

“We were all- worried for you. You disconnected- so abruptly.”

“Is everyone alright?” It was the first thing that had come to mind as soon as he could think more clearly. If something had happened to his siblings because of a stupid temper tantrum he would not have ever forgiven himself.

“Everyone- is back at the hotel. Nothing bad happened. The security detail- was a little worried- but Mondatta managed- to calm them. Officially, we're out- for an errand,” Aditi reassured him. There was laughter in her voice, even. “It was pretty funny- to watch. Humans- can't tell- when omnics- are lying- apparently.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

“Are you still angry?” She sat next to him, and let her feet dangle off the riverbank. She wasn't quite tall enough to touch the water with her toes. The light from the sky bounced off her smooth head. The river surface broke it up, making it look like she was encrusted with pink and turquoise precious stones.

“I am not.” The river had washed away the resentment, but Zenyatta still felt heavy with emotion.

“Obliq was very- disappointed- in herself- because she- didn't realize- you were upset. We all are. What- has been eating- you? Why didn't- you tell us?”

“I think I am still afraid of humans,” Zenyatta said, but as soon as he said it out loud, he realised it wasn't true. “No. I am afraid of liking humans.”

“Mondatta likes humans. That's- why we've- accepted professor- Eriksson's offer.”

He thought about Mondatta's words, about his kindness, about his being smart. He thought about his life from before, the pleasant feeling that spread through his frame when he got praised for a job well done- phrases that humans repeated out of habit even towards a machine that was a support for their tasks.

“I feel shame in wanting approval from humans. I am afraid that it is something that was programmed in me, instead of something that comes from my soul. I know what I said about programming,” he continued, feeling that Aditi was going to interrupt him.

“It's- easier said- than done. I know that- my glitch isn't- dangerous- but I also- can't control it. I'm lucky to have- my family- with me. They accept- me. That's enough- for me.” Aditi looked at him, and he finally looked up from the water to face her. “But- I know you're- different from us- Zenyatta. Your world- is bigger than ours. You're- more similar- to Mondatta- than you think.”

Once again, Zenyatta went back staring at the water. It was easier than feeling Aditi's static-earnest stare on his faceplate head on. “I dislike that. Mondatta's vision of the world is very beautiful but it misses a lot of details. I cannot tell if he does it on purpose or not.” He focused on a piece of wood that drifted on the surface of the water, until it hit against the brickwork of the bridge and sank below the surface. “He pretends not to see that humans and omnics are different. We are all the same in the Iris, but we cannot ignore that we have different needs. It would be like saying that every omnic is the same, and that every human is the same. It is just not true.”

“I believe that Mondatta- sometimes simplifies- the truth- because he wants- to give us hope. That is- why I say- you are kind- Zenyatta. You would not- hide it- from us, just because- it’s hard,” Aditi murmured. Sadness filtered through her voice. “But you're- smart. So you know- why Mondatta- acts like this.”

Zenyatta stood up, and offered Aditi a hand so she could pull herself up. “That is very similar to what Mondatta said to me earlier that made me run off, you know.”

“Are you going- to run off on me- now, then?” Laughter was back in her voice.

“Not now. Maybe one day,” Zenyatta said. He was joking, but deep inside his frame, something about that felt right, scary and exciting like the day he ran away from the human city he'd been working in since he had been activated.

Once again linked by their hands, he walked with Aditi along the river, feeling the humid air stick to their joints as the night falls on the city.