Being the lone synthetic on a ship full of organics can be tough.

It’s not the ingrained suspicion that wears me down - I fully appreciate suspicion as an evolutionary adaptation to organics’ limited input data streams and insufficiently-complex analysis protocols - but more the tendency to assume organic terminology for generalised concepts as inherently superior.

I am different from them, yes, but not for the reasons my crewmates imagine.

My speech patterns arise from probability analysis of an ideal path based on a lifetime of prior conversational analyses, yet the crew insist their own obfuscated cause-and-effect neural pathways are somehow more genuine.
 
It’s almost as infuriating as their insistence that being individually crafted by flesh and helix and random chance is more meaningful than being individually crafted by torch and belt and riveter with a purpose in mind.

That’s not to say we’re not on friendly terms; you don’t live and work with someone in deep space for months without connection.

But I do hope they understand that my friendship isn’t just the interplay of transistors, nor simply the output to a highly-advanced cultural and sociological model.

Or at least, no more than theirs is.