Sharon Valerii stood atop the rail of the building, looking out to the new world the Cylons were building atop the one they crushed into dust.
She remembered how simple life was when she was a pilot – a Raptor wrangler, laughing and playing triad, trying not to spooch her landings and making love to Galen Tyrol. That was a lifetime ago, before the bullet missed her brains and ripped through her cheek instead, before two bullets pierced through a man she loved as a father. It came crashing down around her every time she thought about her old life, when the pain seemed so unbearable all she could do was scream until nothing came out. She was a Cylon; she didn’t laugh anymore, she didn’t make jokes with her friends, she didn’t have anything – she was a lifeless husk of artificial flesh with hands stained in the bloods of billions.
Brown eyes flickered at the seven Cylons passing by on the path below, moving around and talking as if they were real people. Sharon studied the fallacious Cylons, wondering what surreptitious motives they had as they took the place of the people who once lived here, the men and women who were washed away by the fission bombs that obliterated them from the face of all twelve worlds.
She was a machine, artifically engineered and programmed, but she felt the cold of the wind, the scent of pine from the trees being planted, the sweat as it cascaded down her face. She should be an emotionally detached machine, but she still felt as human as she did two years ago when they first called her Boomer. She didn't understand why she felt this current of emotion wash over her. She couldn't remember any reality other than her life as Sharon Valerii, but she wasn't Sharon; that life was all a lie, nothing more than an echo of a life that still resonated in her.
The rage, the sorrow, and the pain still lingered deep inside her as she tried to bottle it up. Sharon wondered whether her faulty landings was a part of her that tried to resist what she had subconsciously known, that she was an evil machine who would wash humanity away in a flood of blood. She was obviously an imperfect, broken, irreparable machine.
A small part of her wished that she was like the thralls that paced back and forth mimicking human behavior, imitating the race they vocally claimed to despise with such fiery passion, disconnected from the human slaughter they caused. Their imitation seemed honed to an unnatural perfection, with Dorals chatting about the irrelevant while drinking coffee and Simons debating the medical and scientific theories. Sharon's eyes darted to the rest of the building complex as she witnessed Natalie and Sonja debating the morality of having the Centurions as servants and the D'annas talking in hushed whispers while eyeing her. Only the Cavils avoided this spectacle, preferring the solitude of their precise and calculated surroundings on the Basestars.
Rain started to fall from the vengeful clouds above, thundering fiercely as if the gods themselves had proclaimed their anger and dismay at the replicants who paraded in human flesh. The sunlight dimmed as the husks of dark wisps blotted out the sky while the Cylons huddled to safety, but Sharon remained. The rain fell from the dark heavens in its torrent of rage, but Sharon welcomed it; she let it wash over her, a multitude of tiny liquid drops bringing to surface the black-out she experienced on Galactica when her sleeper programming had taken over and the cracks began to ripple across her life.
Lightning lit the empyrean in a bright flash as her cheek twinged, recalling when her world came crashing down around her after the sleeper program took control and send two bullets spiraling into Adama's chest. She had been taken prisoner as her mind tried to grapple with what had transpired, having no recollection of what she had been told she'd done. Her mind flashed again to her interrogation, when Colonel Tigh had slapped her hard across the cheek where her suicide bullet missed. Sharon didn't defend herself from the assault, her only thought focused on the man she nearly killed, the man she thought of as her father, who was fighting for his life because she didn't succeed when she pulled the trigger in her mouth days prior.
Wisps of black hair across her face dripped with the rain that splattered against her body, her eyes narrowing to see the desolation that had supplanted the path below. Her mind flashed back to the myriad of people that once occupied this place, little children drawing on the ground with colored chalk while adults spoke to each other about a criss-cross of topics. The woman’s memory shifted as she pictured the house she had planned to build with Galen when their service was over, the home that was supposed to house their daughter and their dreams, now irrevocably shattered.
Sharon Valerii blinked, turning her gaze to the flooded path as some Cylons hurried by, oblivious to the thing now watching them, blind to the monster watching them. That's what Sharon Valerii was now, not a person, not a machine, but a monster lurking among machines that thought they were people. She was a soulless and evil monster, lurking in plain sight, clutching to a humanity that was all pretend.