[Connor’s fingers curl in on themselves, close to his palms, before he forcibly relaxes them. Eyes cast themselves over the faux motivational poster of a cat being drawn on the wall, which means nothing to him in terms of irony or experience.
He purposefully avoids one branch of the conversation, the one that centers around his fate when he’s no longer fulfilling the purpose sequestered to him. Junk, or delegated to perpetual standby, collecting a fine sheen of dust while he stands in a storage unit somewhere.
No, this isn’t about him, and he won’t allow Hank to bend the subject in his direction.]
Humans require a sense of purpose too, Hank. Androids are simply pre-installed with one.
[Connor crouches down and grips the bottle on the floor, holding it up to see if there’s even a small remainder of liquid at the bottom. Tips it over at an angle to let a droplet fall onto his finger, then presses said finger to his tongue. Real-time analysis routines kick up into life — what are you drinking, Hank? What’s the proof of this alcohol?]
no subject
He purposefully avoids one branch of the conversation, the one that centers around his fate when he’s no longer fulfilling the purpose sequestered to him. Junk, or delegated to perpetual standby, collecting a fine sheen of dust while he stands in a storage unit somewhere.
No, this isn’t about him, and he won’t allow Hank to bend the subject in his direction.]
Humans require a sense of purpose too, Hank. Androids are simply pre-installed with one.
[Connor crouches down and grips the bottle on the floor, holding it up to see if there’s even a small remainder of liquid at the bottom. Tips it over at an angle to let a droplet fall onto his finger, then presses said finger to his tongue. Real-time analysis routines kick up into life — what are you drinking, Hank? What’s the proof of this alcohol?]