[Making connections! Connections that keep getting sick! Humans please.]
As an android, I can't get sick. At least, that was the case back in my world. It seems to be the case here, too.
All the more reason why you should rely on me if you need help. I'm more than willing to tend to you, if you need anything; and you can let your own friends rest as a result. Do you need anything?
[ Yeah, humans are really good at sharing germs, Connor. Especially when they share rooms. Once one of them got it, they were all doomed... ]
well you got me there
[ And for a moment, he isn't sure what else to say. Connor has an inarguable point there, but still, Prompto doesn't have the easiest time asking for help. Surely Connor has better things he can be doing...like, tending to literally anyone else. ]
tell you what if you just happen to come across some kind of delicious warm food and you just happen to walk by our room with it, i will gladly take some off your hands or even like a new box of tissues we are going through those like hotcakes
[No, Connor literally has nothing else he'd want to do with his time other than help those who are sick here -- has to be useful somehow, rather than just stand around and watch as the humans become worse and worse. Something about it unsettles him.]
Promise me that all of you will stay there and rest until I arrive.
trust me, that won't be an issue i'll knock the other two out by force if i have to ;)
[ He means that in jest. Probably. But at least for his part, he can promise to remain in bed. If Connor is going to insist on helping, like so many have when he didn't deserve it, he'll concede, if only because he doesn't have the energy to fight it. ]
i'll leave the door unlocked. don't mind the robot lizard if one tries to attack your ankles on the way in!
[Have you met Connor? If there’s a single android in the universe that might die from a two-foot-tall-robot-lizard-death, it’s probably this one. He’d find a way.]
All right. I’ll be there soon.
[But that won’t stop him anyway.
Minutes later, and there’s a knocking at Prompto’s door (for politeness), before it swings open slowly courtesy of the toe of Connor’s shoe, revealing the android standing there with a tray full of… soup. Bowls of steaming soup, and tucked along the corner of said tray, on its side, is an unopened box of tissues.]
Prompto?
[Glancing along the floor real quick TO CHECK FOR ROBOT LIZARDS]
Fortunately for Connor, it would seem that Bartiolus the Two-Foot Mech Godzilla is not on the premises when he comes to visit Prompto's room. For his part, Prompto has made an effort to make the space a bit more presentable, throwing away tissues and straightening blankets and...his hair, but it's still very obviously a room occupied by several sick people. The others are, you know, away or asleep or sirs-not-appearing-in-this-picture, but Prompto perks right up when Connor makes his way in, flashing a grin —
— in an effort that costs him a quick coughing fit. ]
H-hey, Connor! C'mon — ack — c'mon in! Oh, man, you really brought the goods...
[ He looks just as excited about the tissues as he does the soup. In attempt to still be a good host despite his condiiton, he sorta...rolls off the bed onto his feet, and gestures towards the table near the front door. ]
[Seeing that the way is clear, and greeted by a rather enthused (and coughing, unwell) Prompto, Connor steps into the room; the tray is put down on the table near the door, but the android motions at the young man when his hands are free.]
It’s no trouble at all. Please, Prompto. Sit down.
[Firstly, he’s going to bring him the box of tissues because boy, you look like you need it.]
Here. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but these are a rare commodity these days.
[ He sure does need that box of tissues and he takes it from Connor gratefully, not making it too far before dropping to sit at the end of his bed. His excitement over having a visitor took a lot out of him! Give him a moment to blow his nose and breathe before his smile returns, a bit more apologetic this time. ]
You're a lifesaver, dude... I owe you one.
[ Though Connor will likely continue to insist it was nothing, Prompto will continue to insist he owes him a debt for this. However, his fatigue and appetite overrides his meekness, and he eyes the soup on the table. That smells heavenly...
...Or, at least, he assumes it does. Blocked nasal passage, and all. ]
[No worries, Prompto. Connor's next step is to turn and fetch a bowl of soup, spoon clinking lightly against its rim.]
You don't owe me anything. I'm glad to assist.
[Chicken noodle! You can't go wrong.]
I didn't, though. Someone else was kind enough to prepare a large batch of this beforehand; cooking isn't one of my pre-programmed skills, though I suppose I could take the time to learn in a case like this.
[ Bless his soul. Gratefully, Prompto lifts the bowl from Connor's hands, wasting no time in sipping from it, issuing a sigh that's deep and content. A good batch of warm soup really can work miracles, you know? ]
Remind me to thank 'em later. Who...ever it was.
[ He may as well be thanking everyone by the time everything about this ordeal is said and done. ]
So...what are your pre-programmed skills? [ His expression flickers. ] ...I-I mean, it's not, uh, weird if I ask that, is it?
[ This is entirely new territory for him, and he isn't sure what Connor might consider too invasive a question, even if he's been pretty open about his nature so far. After Struxta, it's not so surprising anymore, but it's still...definitely different, to think about androids in this way and not like what the MTs were. ]
[Connor has been open about what he is, what his purpose is, what he was created to do. Why shouldn't he be, after all? It's a spiel he's given more than once, and he doesn't seem to hold much hesitation upon repeating it again.]
I am an RK800 prototype, created by a manufacturer called CyberLife. [His LED spins. Did he tell Prompto that once already, when he was being hauled back from the Storm? He doesn't think so, but his memory is filled with static when he tries to recall those specific moments. A beat, and he moves on.]
I was created to work with law enforcement, with a focus on investigation, interrogation, and negotiation. My inherent skill set is tweaked accordingly, which includes advanced scanning systems, preconstruction and reconstruction applications to facilitate efficient crime scene investigations, and highly advanced social interfacing.
[Another pause.] Some of this is currently offline, however.
[ It had been obvious enough from first blush that Connor wasn't a construct like the magitek troopers — even the most elite of their numbers only displayed subservient intelligence at best. They knew how to take orders and carry them out and...that was about it.
Connor, of course, is markedly different, and it's fascinating to think about androids serving a much different purpose than the one he was familiar with back home. Struxta already changed his perception quite a bit, but Connor is different from even them, part of no mass subconscious — or, at least, not as far as Prompto knows. ]
Sooo, you're like some kind of...detective? [ That's pretty neat, actually. ] Hm...guess whatever's keepin' the rest of our powers clocked out is affecting your systems too, huh?
[ Whatever dampens their abilities here must be powerful indeed. ]
That’s right. The android detective, as it’s colloquially put.
[Connor just should’ve said that from the start, but he likes to over-explain when given the chance. Details in everything!]
And that’s correct, too. Many of my most basic scanning functions are disabled. As well as a few other abilities that are more… inherent of an android in general, than anything specifically mine. But apparently that hardly matters in this place.
[ Huh, he hadn't realized the dampening effects of the temple would affect technological processes the same way it affected magic. Just how does it block their abilities, anyway? Cut them off from something that's inherent to them and replace it with something else? But he knows that's not an easy question to find an answer to, and just thinking it makes his head hurt. He's way too tired and sick to travel down that rabbit hole.
So, he'll continue to munch on his soup, following a different thread instead. ]
So...d'you like being a detective? Seems like it'd be a pretty sweet gig, if you're into that sort of thing.
[Odd. It’s the third time he’s been asked that question, as if his preferences regarding his job really mean anything. As if he wasn’t created to perform these set tasks, so what would it matter if he liked them or not? The expectation of others, assuming that he might take enjoyment from what an RK800 is programmed to do, always gently surprises him.
His reply is truthful enough. It might dodge around certain details, but the general idea is accurate.]
I take satisfaction from a job well done and a successful mission. To solve problems and to answer questions that had been nothing more than… mysteries isn’t something I get tired of.
[So maybe that’s android-speak for ‘yes’.]
But it makes sense, given it’s what I was programmed to do.
[ There's a clear enough answer in there, and one that's more than satisfying for Prompto. On Eos, they never stopped to ask the MTs if they liked what they were doing, though it's not like they could have gotten an answer anyway. Still...
He thinks about it a lot, what kind of lives they might have led, if more of them were freed...if more of them had the chance to live a life as he did.
But he knows it's not the same for Connor — he might've been programmed to do a specific job, but he at least is able to think and act for himself, as far as Prompto has seen. ]
Right...makes sense. And...you're cool with that? Like, you've never thought about, I dunno...dropping everything to become a house painter or something?
Maybe Prompto doesn’t quite understand — that he belongs to a powerful company, that he’s an investment, that he has a handler in his head who would definitely not allow him to stray and become a house painter. Or anything else.]
CyberLife would question that. I think they’d wonder why their android made for police work wanted to suddenly take up home renovation. [Plainly:] Do you have androids where you’re from, Prompto?
[ Ah. It was bound to come up eventually, though its a topic he toes a bit more gingerly around than may seem usual for a human. He can chalk up to his sickness for now, but Prompto hesitates a moment before answering that, coughing into the crook of his arm like he had an ill-timed tickle in his throat.
His tone grows somewhat aloof, his gaze drawn to his soup. ]
Oh — yeah, we do. They're, uh...pretty different from you, though. They're just...soldiers that follow orders.
[ At least, that's all they are when they're in that state. ]
Magitek Troopers. They were all a part of the military.
[ Which should give Connor a pretty clear idea of why they were created in the first place: to fall in great number on the swords of their enemies, to win with numbers what they couldn't with strategy. ]
[He notes the shift in tone, the way Prompto's body language becomes something slightly different, his look being drawn down into the bowl of his soup. Interesting -- strange, too, as if the topic might be something that requires a figurative gentle touch.
Why? Was there a stigma attached to these "Magitek Troopers"? Was it because of their status of blind soldiers following orders? That was no different than what an android was supposed to do -- follow orders, adhere to a task -- even if Connor believes that he's different simply because he's more advanced. More tailored to act like a human.
He takes a moment to decide how to respond.]
So they're combat units. To replace a living army? I can see the rationale in that.
[ He asks immediately, letting the question slip from his lips before he can think better of it. It's not a fair question to ask when he hasn't given Connor all the information, and while this might not be the right time or place for it, this...isn't really a conversation he's been able to have with — well, anyone. What he'd seen in that facility had been horrific and unsettling, but after his rescue there had been more important things to discuss, and here...
Here, the others don't even know he was ever gone from the group. Connor also possesses the distinction of not being from Eos. He has no preconceived notions about what to expect.
Carefully, Prompto speaks up again, his words measured and cautious. ]
Their construction is...pretty unusual. Not like the guys we met in Struxta. [ And, presumably, not like Connor himself. ] They're not powered by chips or batteries, but by Magitek cores...that were created using human lives.
[ In essence, they were sacrificing humans to power their mechanical army. ]
...S-sorry. This isn't...probably something you want to hear about.
[The discomfort of the conversation — constantly read, constantly judged — ratchets up by measurable degrees, and the reasoning why (the one that Connor can obviously perceive, at least) soon becomes apparent. He pauses, trying to process that. What it means for human lives, human energy, to be turned into machines made for war. Objects to fall on swords and sheared by bullets for what he assumes is the sake of overwhelming the enemy by numbers.
For some reason, this doesn’t make sense to him.]
No, don’t.... don’t apologize, I suppose I’m just trying to wrap my mind around how this particular army has equated human lives as disposable as clockwork soldiers on the frontlines.
[ That earns a chuckle out of Prompto, though it is entirely and uncharacteristically mirthless. It must sound so horrific, and it is, and yet it had seemed so logical to the Empire, to...to the man that may as well be called his father.
But he's trying to keep his personal role in this as out of the conversation as he possibly can. For as unique of a perspective on his origins as Connor may have, he's not...he's not ready to have that conversation yet. Not...not yet. ]
The Niffs weren't exactly into "morally sound". Kinda...the opposite, actually. They...created humans just to use 'em for the MTs. Didn't even get the chance to be real people...
[Connor, who isn’t even designed to process morality beyond what any given mission entails, sees issue with this. Probably would’ve seen issue with this, when he was hot of the presses of CyberLife; human life to be as weighted as highly as inorganic beings, even if these humans were created (how? cloning?) simply goes against the grain of all he is. The android made to hunt deviants that threatens the stability of mankind’s role in society cannot reconcile this paradox. This flips the tenets of his programming upside-down.
His LED spins accordingly. The issue, then, lies with the “Niffs”, surely; a different way of thinking, of prioritizing victory over the dubious morality of cultivating life to be thrown away.]
‘The ends justifies the means’. I assume this is a notion that these ‘Niffs’ subscribe to.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Making connections! Connections that keep getting sick! Humans please.]
As an android, I can't get sick. At least, that was the case back in my world. It seems to be the case here, too.
All the more reason why you should rely on me if you need help. I'm more than willing to tend to you, if you need anything; and you can let your own friends rest as a result. Do you need anything?
no subject
well you got me there
[ And for a moment, he isn't sure what else to say. Connor has an inarguable point there, but still, Prompto doesn't have the easiest time asking for help. Surely Connor has better things he can be doing...like, tending to literally anyone else. ]
tell you what
if you just happen to come across some kind of delicious warm food and you just happen to walk by our room with it, i will gladly take some off your hands
or even like a new box of tissues
we are going through those like hotcakes
...or maybe some actual hotcakes
no subject
[No, Connor literally has nothing else he'd want to do with his time other than help those who are sick here -- has to be useful somehow, rather than just stand around and watch as the humans become worse and worse. Something about it unsettles him.]
Promise me that all of you will stay there and rest until I arrive.
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i'll knock the other two out by force if i have to ;)
[ He means that in jest. Probably. But at least for his part, he can promise to remain in bed. If Connor is going to insist on helping, like so many have when he didn't deserve it, he'll concede, if only because he doesn't have the energy to fight it. ]
i'll leave the door unlocked.
don't mind the robot lizard if one tries to attack your ankles on the way in!
[ ...That's ominous. ]
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Yes, that’s both ominous and requiring clarification on Connor’s side. He doesn’t want to walk in and injure/be attacked by/die from a robot lizard.]
An actual robotic lizard?
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he is VERY real
but don't worry, he's harmless!!! and he's a good guy just a little aggressive sometimes LOL
[ And he's only, like, two feet tall. You can take him, Connor. ]
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All right. I’ll be there soon.
[But that won’t stop him anyway.
Minutes later, and there’s a knocking at Prompto’s door (for politeness), before it swings open slowly courtesy of the toe of Connor’s shoe, revealing the android standing there with a tray full of… soup. Bowls of steaming soup, and tucked along the corner of said tray, on its side, is an unopened box of tissues.]
Prompto?
[Glancing along the floor real quick TO CHECK FOR ROBOT LIZARDS]
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Fortunately for Connor, it would seem that Bartiolus the Two-Foot Mech Godzilla is not on the premises when he comes to visit Prompto's room. For his part, Prompto has made an effort to make the space a bit more presentable, throwing away tissues and straightening blankets and...his hair, but it's still very obviously a room occupied by several sick people. The others are, you know, away or asleep or sirs-not-appearing-in-this-picture, but Prompto perks right up when Connor makes his way in, flashing a grin —
— in an effort that costs him a quick coughing fit. ]
H-hey, Connor! C'mon — ack — c'mon in! Oh, man, you really brought the goods...
[ He looks just as excited about the tissues as he does the soup. In attempt to still be a good host despite his condiiton, he sorta...rolls off the bed onto his feet, and gestures towards the table near the front door. ]
You didn't have to go through all this trouble!
[ Even if he did sort of ask for it.... ]
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It’s no trouble at all. Please, Prompto. Sit down.
[Firstly, he’s going to bring him the box of tissues because boy, you look like you need it.]
Here. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but these are a rare commodity these days.
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You're a lifesaver, dude... I owe you one.
[ Though Connor will likely continue to insist it was nothing, Prompto will continue to insist he owes him a debt for this. However, his fatigue and appetite overrides his meekness, and he eyes the soup on the table. That smells heavenly...
...Or, at least, he assumes it does. Blocked nasal passage, and all. ]
Did you make that?
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You don't owe me anything. I'm glad to assist.
[Chicken noodle! You can't go wrong.]
I didn't, though. Someone else was kind enough to prepare a large batch of this beforehand; cooking isn't one of my pre-programmed skills, though I suppose I could take the time to learn in a case like this.
[He steps forward to offer the soup to Prompto.]
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Remind me to thank 'em later. Who...ever it was.
[ He may as well be thanking everyone by the time everything about this ordeal is said and done. ]
So...what are your pre-programmed skills? [ His expression flickers. ] ...I-I mean, it's not, uh, weird if I ask that, is it?
[ This is entirely new territory for him, and he isn't sure what Connor might consider too invasive a question, even if he's been pretty open about his nature so far. After Struxta, it's not so surprising anymore, but it's still...definitely different, to think about androids in this way and not like what the MTs were. ]
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[Connor has been open about what he is, what his purpose is, what he was created to do. Why shouldn't he be, after all? It's a spiel he's given more than once, and he doesn't seem to hold much hesitation upon repeating it again.]
I am an RK800 prototype, created by a manufacturer called CyberLife. [His LED spins. Did he tell Prompto that once already, when he was being hauled back from the Storm? He doesn't think so, but his memory is filled with static when he tries to recall those specific moments. A beat, and he moves on.]
I was created to work with law enforcement, with a focus on investigation, interrogation, and negotiation. My inherent skill set is tweaked accordingly, which includes advanced scanning systems, preconstruction and reconstruction applications to facilitate efficient crime scene investigations, and highly advanced social interfacing.
[Another pause.] Some of this is currently offline, however.
no subject
Connor, of course, is markedly different, and it's fascinating to think about androids serving a much different purpose than the one he was familiar with back home. Struxta already changed his perception quite a bit, but Connor is different from even them, part of no mass subconscious — or, at least, not as far as Prompto knows. ]
Sooo, you're like some kind of...detective? [ That's pretty neat, actually. ] Hm...guess whatever's keepin' the rest of our powers clocked out is affecting your systems too, huh?
[ Whatever dampens their abilities here must be powerful indeed. ]
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[Connor just should’ve said that from the start, but he likes to over-explain when given the chance. Details in everything!]
And that’s correct, too. Many of my most basic scanning functions are disabled. As well as a few other abilities that are more… inherent of an android in general, than anything specifically mine. But apparently that hardly matters in this place.
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So, he'll continue to munch on his soup, following a different thread instead. ]
So...d'you like being a detective? Seems like it'd be a pretty sweet gig, if you're into that sort of thing.
[ Very cool, but he'd be HORRIBLE at it. ]
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His reply is truthful enough. It might dodge around certain details, but the general idea is accurate.]
I take satisfaction from a job well done and a successful mission. To solve problems and to answer questions that had been nothing more than… mysteries isn’t something I get tired of.
[So maybe that’s android-speak for ‘yes’.]
But it makes sense, given it’s what I was programmed to do.
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He thinks about it a lot, what kind of lives they might have led, if more of them were freed...if more of them had the chance to live a life as he did.
But he knows it's not the same for Connor — he might've been programmed to do a specific job, but he at least is able to think and act for himself, as far as Prompto has seen. ]
Right...makes sense. And...you're cool with that? Like, you've never thought about, I dunno...dropping everything to become a house painter or something?
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[No? No.
Maybe Prompto doesn’t quite understand — that he belongs to a powerful company, that he’s an investment, that he has a handler
in his headwho would definitely not allow him to stray and become a house painter. Or anything else.]CyberLife would question that. I think they’d wonder why their android made for police work wanted to suddenly take up home renovation. [Plainly:] Do you have androids where you’re from, Prompto?
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His tone grows somewhat aloof, his gaze drawn to his soup. ]
Oh — yeah, we do. They're, uh...pretty different from you, though. They're just...soldiers that follow orders.
[ At least, that's all they are when they're in that state. ]
Magitek Troopers. They were all a part of the military.
[ Which should give Connor a pretty clear idea of why they were created in the first place: to fall in great number on the swords of their enemies, to win with numbers what they couldn't with strategy. ]
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Why? Was there a stigma attached to these "Magitek Troopers"? Was it because of their status of blind soldiers following orders? That was no different than what an android was supposed to do -- follow orders, adhere to a task -- even if Connor believes that he's different simply because he's more advanced. More tailored to act like a human.
He takes a moment to decide how to respond.]
So they're combat units. To replace a living army? I can see the rationale in that.
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[ He asks immediately, letting the question slip from his lips before he can think better of it. It's not a fair question to ask when he hasn't given Connor all the information, and while this might not be the right time or place for it, this...isn't really a conversation he's been able to have with — well, anyone. What he'd seen in that facility had been horrific and unsettling, but after his rescue there had been more important things to discuss, and here...
Here, the others don't even know he was ever gone from the group. Connor also possesses the distinction of not being from Eos. He has no preconceived notions about what to expect.
Carefully, Prompto speaks up again, his words measured and cautious. ]
Their construction is...pretty unusual. Not like the guys we met in Struxta. [ And, presumably, not like Connor himself. ] They're not powered by chips or batteries, but by Magitek cores...that were created using human lives.
[ In essence, they were sacrificing humans to power their mechanical army. ]
...S-sorry. This isn't...probably something you want to hear about.
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For some reason, this doesn’t make sense to him.]
No, don’t.... don’t apologize, I suppose I’m just trying to wrap my mind around how this particular army has equated human lives as disposable as clockwork soldiers on the frontlines.
How is that morally sound?
[It isn’t.]
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But he's trying to keep his personal role in this as out of the conversation as he possibly can. For as unique of a perspective on his origins as Connor may have, he's not...he's not ready to have that conversation yet. Not...not yet. ]
The Niffs weren't exactly into "morally sound". Kinda...the opposite, actually. They...created humans just to use 'em for the MTs. Didn't even get the chance to be real people...
[ Well. Most of them, anyway. ]
It's not...something that's really widely known, though.
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His LED spins accordingly. The issue, then, lies with the “Niffs”, surely; a different way of thinking, of prioritizing victory over the dubious morality of cultivating life to be thrown away.]
‘The ends justifies the means’. I assume this is a notion that these ‘Niffs’ subscribe to.
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