And I mentioned to you, briefly, in that same conversation that some of these murders were facilitated by androids themselves.
[He recalls the conversation clearly.]
Androids that have deviated from their original programming. That no longer abide by what they were made to do, and exhibit what they believe is genuine emotion.
The reality is that they’re misconstruing a critical error in their processing as emotion, and acting out accordingly. An error that spreads much like a virus might.
[Another pause.]
I was created to investigate these deviant cases. To find them and to figure out just what’s been causing the uptick of their growing existences back in Detroit. And like I said, she’s one of them — and she refuses to cooperate. She believes...
[He trials off, then picks up the words again, as if dropping them were some sort of self betrayal.]
That what she feels is real. But that’s impossible.
[ Unsurprisingly, Lucina struggles to follow. Even pared down into layman's terms, the words (or the context in which they're used) are a bit beyond her. Her eyes widen a bit with the sheer force of her thinking, as if a train is laying trails around the circumference of her brain and the resulting pressure is making her eyes bug out.
It's difficult not to end up sympathising with this North, once she finishes, uh, parsing. To believe what you feel is real - a fundamental living right, not even limited to human beings - and then be told, no, you're wrong, you're just - an item - it seems cruel. Feels cruel. Thinking that, Lucina isn't sure she can go the other way and put herself in Connor's shoes. Not when he's so sure, so mechanical, so forcefully disallowing the possibility of something other.
So, she's silent for a moment. It's hard to know what to say, or what she wants to say, or if it's better to defer. ]
Perhaps telling her that what she believes to be true is impossible is why she refuses to cooperate.
[ Lucina inhales, drawing in a breath like she's preparing her lungs for an argument. ]
Do you still [ um ] abide by your original programming?
And are you suggesting that I should humor her by pretending to agree with her?
[His pride bristles at the idea — pride that he doesn’t know he really possesses, continually oblivious about certain parts of his personality — which is indicative of the fact that he hasn’t given it consideration. That perhaps it’s too late to do so now, with how they’ve clashed so far. Sudden accedence would be suspicious; North isn’t so naive to fall for it, he thinks. She’s the cynical sort.
The continue to walk, Connor ducking briefly under the low branch of a tree.]
And of course I do. If I didn’t, that would make me deviant, as well.
[Don’t question it, don’t worry about the shadow of errors looming at his shoulder. Adhere to the safety of the mission.]
[ That sort of condescension would only backfire, or so Lucina believes. Connor took her question in a slightly different direction than she had intended it; she now tries to get back on track. ]
But from what you've told me, the conclusions that you've come to inside your... your programming are not yours. They were instilled in you at creation. You didn't choose any of it for yourself.
[ It makes her think of Robin, honestly. Not the Robin she had gone back in time to meet, no - the Robin of her timeline, the one whose knees had buckled for Grima's soothings. He had been born and bred to be a vessel for Grimleal ideals. Grimleal despair, Grimleal nihilism - and ultimately - Grimleal purpose. With her context for Connor's personhood being so restricted, she has to reconcile it with images she already knows.
Unfortunately, that brings its own set of baggage.
What sort of fringes of acceptability could Connor's "programming" push him to? Does he have any reason for pursuing this woman, this North, specifically, aside from her proclaimed deviancy? You know what, it's too many questions. Lucina is going to induce a headache if she doesn't make her mind chill out. ]
Are you so certain that your understanding of a deviant is factual and hers is fictitous?
[ To Lucina, the idea that someone who walks and talks and interprets the world around them can also feel... It just makes sense. ]
[Lucina’s queries slowly narrow and begin to point to the true crux of the issue. That the question is not whether these emotions are real, how one android interprets it versus another; instead, that Connor’s purpose is to find them, as dictated by the company that created him. That the reasoning, continually growing wan with the passage of time and experience, means little in the face of failure. Of Amanda’s chastisement, utilizing gently cutting words of direction and disappointment both.
Something about it makes him stop, looking at Lucina with a cinched brow and a straight back.]
Because we’re machines, Lucina. We don’t feel, we aren’t created with the intent of becoming more than what we were made to do. That is simple statement of fact.
[ It's a conflict of disagreement, Lucina thinks; of ideology. It can't possibly be distilled down into a true fact contradicting a fictitous belief. That's too simple. It isn't reflective of reality.
As he stops, so does she. She meets his gaze dead-on, unflinching, expression even, traces of sympathy mixed in with her surety. ]
That day in the caverns, when you let go to keep me from being pulled in... How did that contribute to your purpose of investigating these deviants?
[The question is sure-fire, presented to him with such seriousness that Connor feels uncomfortable not making an attempt to match it.
In the only way an android can, at least. That quiet stillness, the perfect alignment of shoulders and weight on his feet pressed into the ground. An expression both stolid and serious — even if the explanation is inlaid with the lilt of something a little more unwaveringly human than the what he tries so hard to present.]
Because the safety of fellow Circle members is also an on-going prerogative. I realize that in even being here, I can’t continue a full investigation into the deviant case. My mission has temporarily realigned to match.
[The smallest cinch of a brow, willing her to understand.]
My priority is to return home. In order to do so, we have to be successful here as a group. And the continued safety of the team will help to perpetuate that for the foreseeable future.
[ My mission has temporarily realigned feels like such a contradiction in terms to we aren’t created with the intent of becoming more. Lucina feels a muscle in her jaw tense, but it's a reflex of thought; not of unhappiness. She believes if she points out the contradiction, she'll only receive another smoothed over response. At the end of the day? No, she doesn't understand, and she doesn't think Connor is nearly as cold as he presents himself.
Looking up for a moment -
Oh.
Trees. They're surrounded by trees. ]
...Where are we?
[ She looks over her shoulder. More trees. In fact, a vastly growing thicket, sewing up the exit behind them. Lucina blinks, and then will swear that those trees had been there the whole time.
She got so distracted by their talk that she forgot to pay attention to their surroundings. A travesty, that. ]
[He expects a follow-up question. Is ready to answer and appeal to it, his LED blinking fiercely as he rationalizes every one of them away, or utilizes words in just the right manner to avoid talking about the errors he’s piled up in his programming. The wrongness that he knows exists in him, crafted by time and experience during his stay in the Circle.
But Lucina’s question is surprising, and he blinks, peering at her again. And then at their surroundings, sequestered at all sides by tall trees blocking out the majority of the sun.]
We’ve wandered further than I’ve ever thought to explore.
[A moment while he turns, so quickly and completely that he might as well be spinning on his heel.]
We came from this direction, and I’d suggest that we try to follow our route back unless we want to get lost.
My apologies. I let my attention slip from our surroundings.
[ she is a monster and undeserving of love
Regardless, Lucina turns on a heel in a much similar fashion and follows him. Her eyes scan the forest floor in front of them, trying to spot any telltale footsteps marking their initial path in the dirt and the smattering of brittle leaves.
This, of course, means she's concentrating hard enough to be startled by the faint, dark laughter that suddenly emanates from every corner, surrounding them.
Falchion rings a few inches loose of its scabbard, halfway to freedom. ]
[Connor has an eye for detail, for plucking out information from sameness and chaos — such as he was programmed to do. Eyes cast to the ground, he laments once more the loss of his scans, relying on old fashioned observation instead. Picking up the subtle ghost of imprinted footsteps, or where blades of grass bends at strange angles. A slightly tedious process, but one that’ll serve them well enough, should they have the time and leisure for it.
When ominous laughter echoes around them, from no apparent specific direction, Connor lifts his eyes to observe the shadows beyond the trees. LED spinning, he frowns.]
I don’t suggest we linger much longer. I don’t actually know what lives in this forest, and maybe we’re not exactly equipped to find out.
[For now, at least. He looks at Lucina directly.]
I’m going to turn into a dog to lead us out more quickly. Will you be able to keep up?
My power is to turn into a canine, and I can reap certain advantages from that specific form. This includes tracking, which I believe would prove very useful to use right now.
[ It's likely for the best that Lucina is too serious and rigid to take joy in the fact that Connor can turn into a dog. Her puzzlement fades with his explanation and she nods. ]
[It is for the best, at least in this circumstance. He doesn't mind people cooing over his ability -- in fact, he finds it flattering, and he's a somewhat vain android who will always take kindly to compliments -- but now isn't the time.
And so she's granted a succinct nod, and without much fanfare at all, a blue light envelops Connor. Bright and nigh blinding, it lasts for but a second before dissipating altogether, leaving a dark-colored German Shepherd in his wake.
With a visible LED on the side of his skull, blinking blue beneath fur. He looks up at Lucina, for confirmation that she isn't too surprised by the sudden change, and to see if she's ready to get started. Already, scents pervade all around him, and it's easy to get distracted by a sense of smell that's beyond anything a human or an android would ever feasibly experience.]
[ Nah, just kidding. At best, the firm lines that make up her jaw and her mouth soften slightly, lulled into some vague complacency by Connor's transformation. She's never had a bad experience with dogs, despite everything - the Ylisstol palace had a kennel, once, and dogs are canny survivalists when they need to be. That's comforting. As it the blue light, faint underneath the thick fur. Without really thinking about it, she reaches out and gives him a pat on the head, hand briefly disappearing between his ears.
...
She retracts a moment later, because it's still Connor, she still shies deliberately away from contact from him - when not distracted by these false little moments.
For reassurance, that same hand settles back on the hilt of her sword. ]
Go. I'll be right behind you.
[ Or she'll go hide in a tree trunk and die of shame. Either way. ]
The pat on his head makes Connor lift his head up, long snout brushing against her palm just right before she retracts it. A question shines in his eyes, but being unable to speak as he is, there's no way to vocalize it.
Besides, there's much else to do.
A little gruff 'wuff' of confirmation, and Connor catches the scent of them (mostly her), in his nose. A trail back through the forest, the way they came. It might as well be a shining beacon, it's such a clear thing to him now.
He pads forward at a quickened pace. Stick with him, Lucina!]
[ Lucina gives chase, her feet beating in quick pursuit of his path. She keeps her eyes on his lowered head and the tail flicking above his legs. The further they get through the forest, the more she can see faint sunlight filtering through the leafy canopy above their heads. Far ahead, a mouth opens in the seam of trees, providing them an exit.
The lingering inhabitants come out in observing droves as they flee, poking mishapen heads and dilated pupils out from nooks and crannies, from knots in the tree bark and piles of leaves lining the brush. They don't try to interact, but merely observe, which may be even more disquieting.
(I'm sorry, I don't know how to make this interesting, so.)
By the time they reach the edge of the woods, she's slightly winded, and struggling to hide it. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[He recalls the conversation clearly.]
Androids that have deviated from their original programming. That no longer abide by what they were made to do, and exhibit what they believe is genuine emotion.
The reality is that they’re misconstruing a critical error in their processing as emotion, and acting out accordingly. An error that spreads much like a virus might.
[Another pause.]
I was created to investigate these deviant cases. To find them and to figure out just what’s been causing the uptick of their growing existences back in Detroit. And like I said, she’s one of them — and she refuses to cooperate. She believes...
[He trials off, then picks up the words again, as if dropping them were some sort of self betrayal.]
That what she feels is real. But that’s impossible.
no subject
It's difficult not to end up sympathising with this North, once she finishes, uh, parsing. To believe what you feel is real - a fundamental living right, not even limited to human beings - and then be told, no, you're wrong, you're just - an item - it seems cruel. Feels cruel. Thinking that, Lucina isn't sure she can go the other way and put herself in Connor's shoes. Not when he's so sure, so mechanical, so forcefully disallowing the possibility of something other.
So, she's silent for a moment. It's hard to know what to say, or what she wants to say, or if it's better to defer. ]
Perhaps telling her that what she believes to be true is impossible is why she refuses to cooperate.
[ Lucina inhales, drawing in a breath like she's preparing her lungs for an argument. ]
Do you still [ um ] abide by your original programming?
no subject
[His pride bristles at the idea — pride that he doesn’t know he really possesses, continually oblivious about certain parts of his personality — which is indicative of the fact that he hasn’t given it consideration. That perhaps it’s too late to do so now, with how they’ve clashed so far. Sudden accedence would be suspicious; North isn’t so naive to fall for it, he thinks. She’s the cynical sort.
The continue to walk, Connor ducking briefly under the low branch of a tree.]
And of course I do. If I didn’t, that would make me deviant, as well.
[Don’t question it, don’t worry about the shadow of errors looming at his shoulder. Adhere to the safety of the mission.]
no subject
No.
[ That sort of condescension would only backfire, or so Lucina believes. Connor took her question in a slightly different direction than she had intended it; she now tries to get back on track. ]
But from what you've told me, the conclusions that you've come to inside your... your programming are not yours. They were instilled in you at creation. You didn't choose any of it for yourself.
[ It makes her think of Robin, honestly. Not the Robin she had gone back in time to meet, no - the Robin of her timeline, the one whose knees had buckled for Grima's soothings. He had been born and bred to be a vessel for Grimleal ideals. Grimleal despair, Grimleal nihilism - and ultimately - Grimleal purpose. With her context for Connor's personhood being so restricted, she has to reconcile it with images she already knows.
Unfortunately, that brings its own set of baggage.
What sort of fringes of acceptability could Connor's "programming" push him to? Does he have any reason for pursuing this woman, this North, specifically, aside from her proclaimed deviancy? You know what, it's too many questions. Lucina is going to induce a headache if she doesn't make her mind chill out. ]
Are you so certain that your understanding of a deviant is factual and hers is fictitous?
[ To Lucina, the idea that someone who walks and talks and interprets the world around them can also feel... It just makes sense. ]
no subject
Something about it makes him stop, looking at Lucina with a cinched brow and a straight back.]
Because we’re machines, Lucina. We don’t feel, we aren’t created with the intent of becoming more than what we were made to do. That is simple statement of fact.
no subject
As he stops, so does she. She meets his gaze dead-on, unflinching, expression even, traces of sympathy mixed in with her surety. ]
That day in the caverns, when you let go to keep me from being pulled in... How did that contribute to your purpose of investigating these deviants?
no subject
In the only way an android can, at least. That quiet stillness, the perfect alignment of shoulders and weight on his feet pressed into the ground. An expression both stolid and serious — even if the explanation is inlaid with the lilt of something a little more unwaveringly human than the what he tries so hard to present.]
Because the safety of fellow Circle members is also an on-going prerogative. I realize that in even being here, I can’t continue a full investigation into the deviant case. My mission has temporarily realigned to match.
[The smallest cinch of a brow, willing her to understand.]
My priority is to return home. In order to do so, we have to be successful here as a group. And the continued safety of the team will help to perpetuate that for the foreseeable future.
no subject
Looking up for a moment -
Oh.
Trees. They're surrounded by trees. ]
...Where are we?
[ She looks over her shoulder. More trees. In fact, a vastly growing thicket, sewing up the exit behind them. Lucina blinks, and then will swear that those trees had been there the whole time.
She got so distracted by their talk that she forgot to pay attention to their surroundings. A travesty, that. ]
no subject
But Lucina’s question is surprising, and he blinks, peering at her again. And then at their surroundings, sequestered at all sides by tall trees blocking out the majority of the sun.]
We’ve wandered further than I’ve ever thought to explore.
[A moment while he turns, so quickly and completely that he might as well be spinning on his heel.]
We came from this direction, and I’d suggest that we try to follow our route back unless we want to get lost.
[THEY ARE LOST ALREADY PROBABLY]
no subject
[ she is a monster and undeserving of love
Regardless, Lucina turns on a heel in a much similar fashion and follows him. Her eyes scan the forest floor in front of them, trying to spot any telltale footsteps marking their initial path in the dirt and the smattering of brittle leaves.
This, of course, means she's concentrating hard enough to be startled by the faint, dark laughter that suddenly emanates from every corner, surrounding them.
Falchion rings a few inches loose of its scabbard, halfway to freedom. ]
no subject
[Connor has an eye for detail, for plucking out information from sameness and chaos — such as he was programmed to do. Eyes cast to the ground, he laments once more the loss of his scans, relying on old fashioned observation instead. Picking up the subtle ghost of imprinted footsteps, or where blades of grass bends at strange angles. A slightly tedious process, but one that’ll serve them well enough, should they have the time and leisure for it.
When ominous laughter echoes around them, from no apparent specific direction, Connor lifts his eyes to observe the shadows beyond the trees. LED spinning, he frowns.]
I don’t suggest we linger much longer. I don’t actually know what lives in this forest, and maybe we’re not exactly equipped to find out.
[For now, at least. He looks at Lucina directly.]
I’m going to turn into a dog to lead us out more quickly. Will you be able to keep up?
no subject
You - what?
no subject
My power is to turn into a canine, and I can reap certain advantages from that specific form. This includes tracking, which I believe would prove very useful to use right now.
So, as I said, can you keep up?
no subject
Of course. Please, lead the way.
no subject
And so she's granted a succinct nod, and without much fanfare at all, a blue light envelops Connor. Bright and nigh blinding, it lasts for but a second before dissipating altogether, leaving a dark-colored German Shepherd in his wake.
With a visible LED on the side of his skull, blinking blue beneath fur. He looks up at Lucina, for confirmation that she isn't too surprised by the sudden change, and to see if she's ready to get started. Already, scents pervade all around him, and it's easy to get distracted by a sense of smell that's beyond anything a human or an android would ever feasibly experience.]
1/2
no subject
...
She retracts a moment later, because it's still Connor, she still shies deliberately away from contact from him - when not distracted by these false little moments.
For reassurance, that same hand settles back on the hilt of her sword. ]
Go. I'll be right behind you.
[ Or she'll go hide in a tree trunk and die of shame. Either way. ]
no subject
The pat on his head makes Connor lift his head up, long snout brushing against her palm just right before she retracts it. A question shines in his eyes, but being unable to speak as he is, there's no way to vocalize it.
Besides, there's much else to do.
A little gruff 'wuff' of confirmation, and Connor catches the scent of them (mostly her), in his nose. A trail back through the forest, the way they came. It might as well be a shining beacon, it's such a clear thing to him now.
He pads forward at a quickened pace. Stick with him, Lucina!]
no subject
The lingering inhabitants come out in observing droves as they flee, poking mishapen heads and dilated pupils out from nooks and crannies, from knots in the tree bark and piles of leaves lining the brush. They don't try to interact, but merely observe, which may be even more disquieting.
(I'm sorry, I don't know how to make this interesting, so.)
By the time they reach the edge of the woods, she's slightly winded, and struggling to hide it. ]