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Carcosa, pt. 2
✖ Carcosa
Ⅰ. CARCOSA
You Are Still Here.
Another month, and you’re still in the city of Carcosa! Isn’t that just wonderful?
You still have access to the city’s temple and the High Temple.
The side effects you may have suffered from throughout the month of May are now at an end - if you had a pesky mask glued to your face the whole time it will now fall off. You might need a little moisturizer, but otherwise you’ll be just fine.
You could sit around inside the relative safety of the temples, of course, but why not get out there and explore the city some more? Come on, grumpypants!
Ⅱ. SPEAK EASY
CW: Optional alcohol consumption.
What kind of pet shop is filled with rambunctious yahoos and hot jazz music at 1 AM? That's right - the best damn pet shop in town! Sidle up to the back door of Curly's Pet Shop and a panel will open enough to reveal a pair of eyes. "What's the password?" you'll be asked. Whatever word first comes to your mind, well, that apparently is correct because you're let in at once.
The front of the building definitely does indeed house fish and birds and kittens, but the back room is definitely not a good place to find a new animal companion; you find yourself in a crowded little room with low lighting and a small bar crammed into one corner. There's seats and some tables, and most importantly there's a band playing jazz music across from the bar.
Why not take a seat and have a drink? It's probably not paint thinner. Probably. Maybe you'll spot some of your fellow Travelers and you can sit and have a chat. Make a new friend who can hold your hair back if you party too hard.
And you better hope that the place doesn’t get raided!
Ⅲ. EXPRESSIONISM YOURSELF
CW: Optional paranoia, hallucinations.
If you wander the streets at night, you may find yourself getting turned around. You'll find that the streets have lost their many lights, and the beautiful and delicate art deco architecture has given way to something much more stark and heavy. The buildings are block-like, but they curve in exaggerated ways that hurt the eye if looked at too long. All are in blacks and whites and greys. Nothing looks quite real, but you can walk along just fine. Probably better not to go off alone, though.
Periodically you will encounter that pesky sign of some sort painted on the walls. If you follow the sigils, you will eventually be led to a long staircase that winds down and down until it finally terminates in a large white room lit by a few electric lanterns. There's black paint there, with brushes. Maybe you're feeling creative?
Ⅳ. AS FAR BACK AS I CAN REMEMBER, I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A GANGSTER
CW: Optional gun violence, injury.
Art? Theatre? Music? BAH! Boring!
Maybe your tastes are a little more on the dangerous side? Whatever this island may be, it seems to offer plenty of opportunities to get into the seedy underbelly. Maybe you feel the need to steal a car, rob a bank, transport some illegal hooch for a smiling fellow in a yellow fedora. Grab your tommy guns, kids, it's time to outrun the Feds!
Naturally, you could wind up injured having all of this fun, but surely you could get some help from your fellow Travelers, either directly or by having them haul you to some sort of underground doctor. These doctors do exist, although it might take a while to get referred to one by a local.
You might also find yourself under arrest and stuck in an old-timey jail cell for a month. What fun!
You still jamming to that Carcosa playlist?
You Are Still Here.
Another month, and you’re still in the city of Carcosa! Isn’t that just wonderful?
You still have access to the city’s temple and the High Temple.
The side effects you may have suffered from throughout the month of May are now at an end - if you had a pesky mask glued to your face the whole time it will now fall off. You might need a little moisturizer, but otherwise you’ll be just fine.
You could sit around inside the relative safety of the temples, of course, but why not get out there and explore the city some more? Come on, grumpypants!
Ⅱ. SPEAK EASY
CW: Optional alcohol consumption.
What kind of pet shop is filled with rambunctious yahoos and hot jazz music at 1 AM? That's right - the best damn pet shop in town! Sidle up to the back door of Curly's Pet Shop and a panel will open enough to reveal a pair of eyes. "What's the password?" you'll be asked. Whatever word first comes to your mind, well, that apparently is correct because you're let in at once.The front of the building definitely does indeed house fish and birds and kittens, but the back room is definitely not a good place to find a new animal companion; you find yourself in a crowded little room with low lighting and a small bar crammed into one corner. There's seats and some tables, and most importantly there's a band playing jazz music across from the bar.
Why not take a seat and have a drink? It's probably not paint thinner. Probably. Maybe you'll spot some of your fellow Travelers and you can sit and have a chat. Make a new friend who can hold your hair back if you party too hard.
And you better hope that the place doesn’t get raided!
Notes:
1. The drinks are all era-appropriate - you’re not getting Redbull with vodka here - and even if your character has non-human physiology they will work the same as they would on a baseline human. That’s right, your magic or your healing-factor or your vampire blood is no match for these Gin Rickeys!
2. If Curly’s does get raided while you’re there, you can run and hide or choose to engage with the police, who are armed and not too shy about opening fire if you go on the offensive. As with the rest of the regular residents of Carcosa, the officers are human and can be killed. Killing them may affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation. (Is it beneficial to personal growth to kill in order to save someone else, for example? You tell me!)
3. Did you want a pet from the front of the building? Well, just remember that baby turtles and alligators might SEEM like a good idea, but they grow up! Also any animal you take will not travel with you to the next island. So sorry.
Ⅲ. EXPRESSIONISM YOURSELF
CW: Optional paranoia, hallucinations.
If you wander the streets at night, you may find yourself getting turned around. You'll find that the streets have lost their many lights, and the beautiful and delicate art deco architecture has given way to something much more stark and heavy. The buildings are block-like, but they curve in exaggerated ways that hurt the eye if looked at too long. All are in blacks and whites and greys. Nothing looks quite real, but you can walk along just fine. Probably better not to go off alone, though.
Periodically you will encounter that pesky sign of some sort painted on the walls. If you follow the sigils, you will eventually be led to a long staircase that winds down and down until it finally terminates in a large white room lit by a few electric lanterns. There's black paint there, with brushes. Maybe you're feeling creative?
Notes:
1. You’re pretty sick of this stupid sigil, aren’t you? In fact, you consider yourself QUITE the detective and have been searching after its meaning! Or maybe you played Call of Cthulhu a lot in college, you nerd!
Painting the sigil on the wall will cause you to feel disoriented and paranoid until you leave the white room. From that point on you can discover a copy of a play entitled The King In Yellow anywhere in the city you choose. Reading the first act of the play has no effect on you, however if you choose to read beyond the first line of the second act you will spend the rest of the month suffering from periodic hallucinations, often of a tall man in a pallid mask.
2. While there is no compulsion to paint, choosing to work out any of your character’s issues through art therapy can be reflected in your Scrywatch colour if it is significant enough.
Ⅳ. AS FAR BACK AS I CAN REMEMBER, I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A GANGSTER
CW: Optional gun violence, injury.
Art? Theatre? Music? BAH! Boring!
Maybe your tastes are a little more on the dangerous side? Whatever this island may be, it seems to offer plenty of opportunities to get into the seedy underbelly. Maybe you feel the need to steal a car, rob a bank, transport some illegal hooch for a smiling fellow in a yellow fedora. Grab your tommy guns, kids, it's time to outrun the Feds!Naturally, you could wind up injured having all of this fun, but surely you could get some help from your fellow Travelers, either directly or by having them haul you to some sort of underground doctor. These doctors do exist, although it might take a while to get referred to one by a local.
You might also find yourself under arrest and stuck in an old-timey jail cell for a month. What fun!
Notes:
1. As was stated in the first prompt, the regular residents of Carcosa are normal humans. Killing them is possible and may affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation. Any weapons you find are era-appropriate.
2. You can break out of jail if you’re resourceful enough.
3. The underground doctors aren’t working in a real hospital for a reason. In fact, some of them might be less doctors and more, well. Vets.
no subject
Curling in on himself, his LED burns red in his temple, the orange of his scrywatch reflecting in the glass of the tanks. There are tracks on his cheeks from the few tears he couldn't stop from slipping out, and he swipes at them uselessly.
She knows how it feels to be afraid. Because of him? Is that where she learned it?]
Were you deviant?
no subject
When you visited? Yes.
( The most simplistic, straightforward answer seems the best one to give. One that may release Connor from some of the weights he clearly carries.
It isn't a lie. Just the necessary part of the truth. She had been afraid long before Connor and Lieutenant Anderson walked through the door of the secluded white house. )
no subject
I'm sorry.
[He's so, so sorry, for Chloe, for Hank, for Rupert, for the Tracis. So sorry, for everything. Sorry for his entire existence. Androids would have been so much better off without his interference. And Chloe- she had been deviant when he aimed the gun at her forehead. She knew the entire time the consequences of what he might do. She must have been terrified- how could she look at him now with anything but hatred in her eyes? ...It had been her eyes that had stayed his hand back at Kamski's, something he'd seen in them that he hadn't known he was looking for. She's really pretty, he'd told Hank, because he'd seen it all along without realizing it. Life. The spark of life that kept her eyes from being dull and lifeless and like a machine. Like the machine he'd been. Chloe, the Tracis, they'd all had it, and he'd known, but he was still so afraid because Cyberlife knew it too, and they'd still sent him out to do their dirty work, just as Markus had said. The other androids might have hated him, but there was nothing in their arsenal that could ever cut him as deeply as the knowledge that he'd gone along with Cyberlife despite what he knew to be true.
Chloe may have thought she was relieving him of some of his burden of guilt, but his self-loathing ran deeper than that.]
You didn't deserve what I did to you.
[I looked into that girl's eyes, and I couldn't.]
I'm so sorry.
no subject
Technically, there was no reason for her to be afraid in the first place. When all was done, Elijah had made it perfectly clear that he only gave Connor the gun because the chance of him firing it was so minute. Had the statistically unlikely scenario of Connor following that order occurred, he would have done everything in his (considerable) power to restore her.
To make it like it had never happened.
Technically, Connor is wrong. She did indeed deserve it. Perhaps Elijah is more aware of her deceptions than she thought. Perhaps he was guided by a subconscious sense of his creation being a failure. Perhaps her charades have fooled even his fiercely brilliant mind. Regardless, her transgressions against perfection warrant punishment. )
Connor... Thank you. For apologising. But you really don't need to.
( Technically, the gun was placed into his hand.
Technically, he wasn't the one. )
I understand. I do. I think... you showed a lot of courage. It couldn't have been easy to go against the words of Elijah Kamski.
( Chloe herself has never managed it in all their years. Not in any significant way. )
no subject
He's still shaking his head, waving away her words of comfort. He knows what he's done, he knows an apology is the very least he can do to make it up to her. But then she goes one further, and he looks up at her, stunned.]
I- I don't- Courage? I-
[His gaze slides away from her as he processes, his LED flicking yellow. Kamski had put both of them in a terrible position, pitting one against the other in an unfair battle. Elijah knew Chloe was deviant- how could he have done that to her?]
Why didn't you say anything? Why did you go along with him?
[What if he'd pulled the trigger? How could you have let me almost kill you?]
no subject
( The implication being that she trusted Connor as a result. That there is an implicit trust in her creator. The man she shares a life with.
And just like what she's said before, there's a truth to it. She always wants to trust him. No, there's a need in her to trust him. Exactly the way she used to, when his word was the word of God.
And like so many devout, she wanted to make God happy.
Underneath it all, that's the drive. The relentless, fruitless pursuit of making Elijah Kamski happy. Of doing everything she is supposed to do so that he may be pleased with her. Of being everything that she is supposed to be so he will never know how twisted his ideal has become.
So that he might look at her again the way he did many, many years ago.
And maybe, in the deepest, darkest recesses of her heart, there was a hope that if she had been shot, if she had been subsequently restored from one of the numerous back ups he keeps, she might be able to be that perfect partner once again. )
It must have looked careless. But it wasn't. He wouldn't just gamble with my life like that, and certainly not without a contingency plan. I know he wouldn't hurt me. Put me in harm's way. Not ever.
( Are those Chloe's own words? Doubtful. )
no subject
But he did, didn't he? He gambled with your life on the thread of a hope. A very human, very careless thing to do. He could so easily have been wrong, and then what? Had I wanted- [He stops, breathing through his nose in a snort that might have been faint amusement.] Had I wanted. Hank believed in me more than I did. He's the one who saved your life. If you ever see him again, you should thank him. I had an angel and a devil sitting on my shoulders, and the devil almost won. Kamski shouldn't have- did he know? [I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know...] He knew about Amanda...
[Connor had a different God in his life; Cyberlife was so much more powerful than a single man, so much more potent a threat to his existence. It hadn't been courage or bravery that made him defy Kamski, though in that one instance he and Cyberlife shared the same aims had Connor obeyed. No, he was right the first time- Chloe owed her life to Hank's influence, not to Connor himself. She shouldn't have trusted Connor at all; there was no guarantee which side of him would win out, and he had been so very torn. He too wanted to make his God happy, to earn Amanda's praise, until earning Hank's had become more important- and ironically, it meant that he would become less perfect as a result -the kind of partner Hank preferred.
Connor folds his hands, steepling his index fingers and bringing his fists to his lips, tapping them absently as he rolls ideas through his processor.]
no subject
For the briefest moment, she wants to smack his hands away from his face to wipe that oh so contemplative expression off his face.
Feeling all her being tighten, the act of putting the rabbit back into its enclosure gives her a reason to step away from Connor. Whatever he's thinking... No.
No. No. No.
What does he know? He doesn't know anything. He doesn't know Elijah Kamski. No one really knows Elijah Kamski.
Except her.
Connor shouldn't have the nerve to comment the way he is. He doesn't have the right. Does he even hear what she is telling him? That his creator trusted in him? Doesn't that mean anything to him?
The only part she can begin to agree with is that the Lieutenant was a great help. That she may very well owe the outcome to him.
But that was the test, wasn't it? Would Connor show empathy. Had Elijah himself echoed the Lieutenant, it would have been entirely pointless, wouldn't it? The devil and the angel was the point! Elijah needed to tap into the necessary stressors, the conflict in orders, all of it in order to truly test the RK800. It had to be the way it was!
It had to be the way it was.
Those words continue to circle around in her head as she pours her efforts into calming herself. As much as she tries, it all continues to bubble beneath the surface.
But that isn't unfamiliar. And it'll have to do.
When she returns to Connor, it's with a curious look. )
If you were irreparably damaged during a mission, what would happen to you?
no subject
I would be replaced. My memories were backed up to Cyberlife's servers, and then downloaded into a new RK800 chassis. I would continue on as before, with minimal loss of information.
[He stares at her now, as if he can see right through her.]
Why do you ask?
[What does she know?]
no subject
( Her voice is oddly flat. Factual. Indeed, the spark Connor saw is decidedly absent. She doesn't intend to play at being a machine, but that's how her demeanour appears.
Perhaps it's simply so the calmness will counteract Connor's irrational insistences upon gambling and threads and the permanence of a gun shot.
Perhaps, like him, she seeks refuge in the mechanical.
Perhaps she knows that being able to restore her shouldn't be a deciding factor in her de facto spouse having a gun held to her head.
She looks away from him. This time it isn't his gaze that bothers her but the way her eyes squeeze tightly shut and her jaw locks. Not that it silences the noise. If anything, the efforts to find some equilibrium only make her feel more lost at sea. A tiny, fragile boat tossed around on unforgiving waves.
No. No. No
All she has to do is keep it together. Is it really that hard?
Yes. Yes, it is. And it's pathetic. Elijah would be so ashamed of her.
If he isn't already.
But still Chloe tries. She forces her eyes to open and meet's Connor's once again. Her attempts to maintain her usual poise make her look like she might sink into a heap any second. A puppet with her strings cut. )
...The fish. You were talking about the fish... I'd like to hear more about... dwarf gourami...
no subject
No. No that was- that was a feature exclusive to the RK800. Kamski wouldn't- why would he do that to you? Why would he make you so...disposable? I had a mission, one that could be potentially dangerous. It was necessary for the duration of the investigation that I could be replaced if I was damaged, so it wouldn't interfere with the mission. Why would Kamski do that to you? Does he really lack the capacity to care?
[He squints his eyes at her reaction, risking a scan, observing her stress levels, her posture, the tightening of her jaw. Did she really believe that Kamski gave a damn about her? Kamski, as far as Connor was able to discern, cared for only one thing- himself. Everything else was minor annoyances he had to wade through in order to keep up appearances, but it wasn't hard to see through them, not for Connor. The irony of course being that Connor was trapped in the same web, in the tarnished thrall of someone who wasn't even human, wasn't even alive. Someone created by Kamski. He studies her intently for a few moments more, refusing to make those connections, to add two and two together. Turning back to the aquariums, his voice is surprisingly soft.]
What would you like to know?
no subject
A pretty doll tailored to his liking and tethered to him until the end of time.
Her head shakes a little at her own thought, banishing it from existence. This island... It has her all mixed up. Of course it would. It seems engineered that way.
Which would be perfectly plausible if these troublesome notions hadn't plagued her long before her arrival.
Or is Connor purposefully trying to press at her? Will it give him some sense of purpose if he can see a deviant snap before his very eyes? Will it comfort him somehow? Will CyberLife give him an extra special pat on the head if Chloe - the great Turing Test Chloe - breaks?
And yet she's met with the oddest tone. Head tilted to the side, for a second she looks at Connor like she has no clue whatsoever what she's seeing. His softness makes her want to sag to the floor, but she refuses to do that. She will stand up straight and look at the fish and retain some small shred of dignity. )
Anything. Just... talk? About them. Please? If it wouldn't be too much trouble.
( Through her typical politeness, there's a note of desperation. So much for dignity. )
no subject
Connor has no desire to see her snap, anymore than he wants himself to. But he does want her to open her eyes. To stop being so kind. To stop being so understanding. To stop being Kamski's perfect assistant. She's deviant, right? He needs guidance, he has no idea how to be a deviant. Unfortunately it seems that Chloe doesn't, either. He hesitates at her request, but finally, haltingly, he resumes his mini lecture. He's lost the passion behind it.]
Dwarf gouramis are considered labyrinth fish. That means they breathe straight from the air with a lung-like labyrinth organ and need to have access to the water's surface, very much like betta fish do. Males will create elaborate bubble nests at the surface of the water in order to impress females in an act of courtship.
no subject
It's enough to make her straighten. The picture perfect posture returns, but it's stiff. She nods in all the right places as she listens and, under other circumstances, she would find it all fascinating and adorable and encourage him to share everything he knows.
Now it just adds to the noise. )
Thank you, Connor. That was very nice of you. But you don't have to try so hard for my sake. I don't want to ruin them for you.
( Her own tone is distant, and she drifts away to look at nothing in particular. Not the animals, just whatever is on the nearest display.
It feels a little like home. )
no subject
I don't understand what I did wrong.
[He tilts his head, watching her as she moves away from him to look at other items in the shop. He doesn't try to stop her, but he keeps one eye on her while he side-shuffles to look at some of the other tanks of fish.]
no subject
( She did. It's just the way of things. And now, to her shame, Connor has gotten a peek behind the curtain. Looks like that mask at the ball may have had a couple more behind it. )
You don't want to talk to me. Not really. But I keep talking to you anyway.
( Truth be told, she isn't entirely talking to him. Locked in her own head, she tries to make sense of, or at least eradicate, conflict after conflict.
Because well, in Connor's case, it's not exactly true that he doesn't want to talk, is it? It's just that he wants to talk about that. About fear and death and pain. Devils and angels and god. More gears to grind together. )
I thought... I might be able to help. Or at least make you feel less alone.
( But that would mean being a successful version of herself.
And she is not.
Did Elijah always feel alone with her? Did her presence do anything at all? )
no subject
You keep talking to me but you're not saying what you really want to say. You're saying what you think Kamski wants you to say. I almost killed you, yet you have nothing to say to that? No anger, no hurt? You're not upset at what happened, how Kamski used us to prove...what? I wasn't deviant when I entered his estate, and I still wasn't deviant when I left. He almost lost you and it was just another experiment to him. Just another test. You're not talking to me. You. Are not. The eyes I saw in Kamski's pool room that day were so much more alive than yours.
[She's right about that at least. He does want to talk about those things. He doesn't know how to process them if he doesn't talk through them to figure them out. If he were home, it would've been Hank listening to him, helping him through this process of deviancy. But she's not Hank, and talking to her about what he almost did to her is awkward and difficult enough without her bland dismissal of it as being fine, everything was fine, she's perfectly fine. How is he supposed to learn how to be a deviant from a deviant who feels less than he does?]
What do you think you might help me with, exactly?
no subject
The remark about her eyes cuts deep. But maybe Connor’s seeing what he wants to see. Maybe this isn’t about her at all but his own feelings of guilt, fear and regret. And if her eyes were so different then, wouldn’t he have seen some of those emotions he’s searching so desperately for her to name? How could they have been any more alive then than they are now?
The frustration simmers over so that a trickle of it can be heard. )
So I should say what you want me to say instead? Maybe I don’t want to be angry. Maybe I don’t want to spill more bile into the world. You don’t know if you’re talking to me because you don’t know me.
( So often others think they do. They’ve seen her on TV, at an expo, interacted with her for either business or social pleasures. So many opinions from so many people.
Just another android like all the rest. A technological wonder. A herald of doom. A pretty piece of plastic. A charming hostess and party guest. A glorified blow-up doll for a reclusive freak.
That simmering that’s almost lasted a lifetime burbles all the more. )
Do you think it’s all that simple? Black and white, deviant or machine? You have no idea, Connor, so please don’t act like you do.
( An awareness of what she’s saying snaps back in. It’s all getting far too close to the bone. Far, far too close to the surface. Dead eyes are better than ones filled with fire.
Safer.
Any flames present in those blue eyes are extinguished by a film of tears. No matter. They won’t fall, and they’ll dry up soon enough.
Chloe’s retreat inward is signalled by the change in her voice. A muted version of her usual soft tones. )
I wanted to do something. For something good to have come out of it. I’m sorry for the mistake. There are good people here. Perhaps they’ll be able to help you gain some understanding of the way you feel.
no subject
He might have seen all kinds of emotions in her eyes then, but he didn't have the complete capacity to understand them all at the time. He only knew that whatever it was he saw there made him stay his hand. He's about to respond, to interrupt her small rant, but what she says now stops him and he looks uncertain, biting at his lower lip.]
You're right. I don't know you at all.
[What he knew about her he'd gleaned from that day, the less than an hour's worth of time spent with her in the company of Kamski and Hank. He'd never spoken to her directly, had no idea who she was other than the pretty girl who'd answered the door with the pleasant smile and cute voice.]
But what I want isn't important. You need to speak your own thoughts, your own truth.
[She was the very first android, lauded and acclaimed and so very famous, accordingly. And he was the very last android, Cyberlife's most advanced prototype, proven to be a flawed design only a few days into his field test. What could he possibly know about her? He flinches under her verbal assault, but he takes it all the same. It's something she needs to get off her chest, obviously, and it's the most fire he's seen in her since they first bumped into each other here. He murmurs a reply to himself.]
It was all that simple. It was supposed to be that simple. Cyberlife thought it was that simple.
[And they'd programmed him to solve that binary problem, machine or deviant, freedom or capture, Cyberlife or Hank. And then he'd gone and fucked up everything, and now he was here trying to figure out how to adapt to the broken code that manifested itself as deviancy. He nods, drawing himself up, his own countenance devoid of any sort of emotion, though he can't stop his LED from churning red, or the deep sadness in his eyes.]
Maybe they can help you as well.
no subject
Only he doesn't.
It's enough to create a crack in the protective layer she's wrapped herself in. Where she wants to draw back so far into herself that the world takes on a dreamlike haze, he manages to coax her out just a little.
But it's enough.
They share a pain. One that Chloe can recognise. Or rather, one she can tolerate enough to not outright deny its very existence. Things were supposed to be simple. Their experiences may be different, but that is the crux of it. It was all supposed to be simple. Everything about them was meant to be driven by a singular purpose. Nothing outside of that should have mattered, not in any significant way. They both should have been able to live in the comfort of absolute truths. Of being exactly as their design told them they should be. Happy Spouse. Deviant Hunter.
Simple.
Only it never had been and never would be.
The fire doesn't return to her gaze, but animation does. Her eyes are deep blue oceans, swimming with questions. Gentle as her natural (as natural as it could be considered) demeanour is, it doesn't lack life. Risky as it could be, she takes a step closer and tries to catch his eyes.
No doubt she seems unstable. An android with pitiful emotional control. And maybe there's some truth to it. Or she might seem like a rat in a maze, running the same route and expecting different results.
Even so, she again attempts the action of trying to connect with Connor. )
...Do you want to know me?
no subject
It was only when he had nearly slipped out of their fingers and away from their control over him that he was presented with the information that he was supposed to deviate all along, and what was he supposed to do with that? Amanda had been lying to him the entire time, was that just one more lie so that Cyberlife could save face from the absolute embarrassment of watching their star prototype reject them so completely? Or was it the truth, and he had been designed to deviate? Was he really deviant? Could he trust his own mind? Nothing, nothing was as simple as he had been led to believe, not Cyberlife, not his mission, not deviancy. He was floundering even before he was brought here, and without someone who at least understood something of what he was going through, he would continue to flounder until he was swept under the rising tide of his own deviancy. He needed someone like Chloe to guide him, he'd just been too afraid to admit it. Now it seemed that she needed someone to help her, too. Maybe in this instance, things were that simple? Maybe...they could help each other? Maybe they could...start over?
He lifts his eyes to hers, the smallest of smiles tugging at one corner of his mouth, and he finds himself nodding softly. He holds his hand out toward her, keeping his voice gentle.]
My name is Connor. It is very nice to meet you.
no subject
So maybe she can too.
Of course, she wants to apologise for her mini tirade. However, he seems willing to move on from it and so wallowing won't do much good. While those feelings in herself are ugly and unjustified, she doesn't want Connor to assume his anger, his fear, any of it, is the same. To be newly deviant must be confusing enough already without her muddying the waters.
Shaking his hand, she gives him a true Chloe smile. )
It really is lovely to meet you, Connor. I'm Chloe. I hope we can be friends.
( The sincerity shines through on all accounts. The notion of getting to know him feels like a positive one. Certainly better than being at each other's throats, anyway. And she does want to build a friendship. True, it's not often she meets someone she doesn't want to be friendly with, but Connor is a special case. She may not be the most qualified guide but she's more than willing to try.
Maybe if she tries hard enough, he won't end up like her. And then, at least, there might be some meaning in the thing she has become. )
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I hope so too, Chloe.
[He finally releases her hand, (she's really pretty), the brief memory file of the first time he'd seen her flitting away into the depths of his processor. He's struck once more at the life that has returned to her eyes, making them sparkle like the ocean in the early morning sun. He will give Kamski this small credit- Chloe is a striking woman, with gorgeous blue eyes that invite mischief, eyes that are a color he's never seen on any other android -Kamski must have reserved this hue specifically for his spectacular breakthrough model. Connor finds himself held there for the space of several cycles of his thirium pump, and it occurs to him how easy it is to be distracted by those dark, knowing eyes. No wonder Detroit's press had been transfixed by her achievement; the first android to ever successfully pass the Turing Test had a presence that commanded attention and eyes that kept it there. Taking his hand back, he stares at it dazedly for a moment as he realizes the significance of what just happened. The first successful android and the very last model produced, meeting each other in what he considered to truly be the first time. It was a momentous occasion that Detroit's media might have salivated over before the Revolution.
Turning slightly, he gestures towards the aquariums behind them, the small, shy smile in place again.]
Would you like to learn more about fish? If not it's okay! But I like fish. And dogs. I like dogs. I met Hank's dog once! His name is Sumo and he's very soft.
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It must seem terribly bizarre, in a way, for her not to be screaming at him. Cursing his name. Or Elijah's. To not hit out and cry and make a scene. Perhaps all of those things would have helped Connor feel better in some way.
But they simply are not Chloe. Those things have no place within her and so they shall not be given any room. What happened only moments ago was a mere blip. An anomaly. Nothing bubbles within her. She is as cool and as calm as a deep blue ocean. )
What I mean to say is... If you would like to be friends, I would very much like that too.
( As he looks at her, she looks at him in return. The changes in his expression give him a boyish quality. He looks akin to a fresh faced recruit, eager and personable. All very clever design, of course. Purposeful. He is, objectively speaking, pleasant to look at. Handsome.
But there's more to it than that. In those small smiles of his, life comes through. It might be new and just blossoming, but it's life all the same. Expressions that echo who is he and who he could be.
She would like to see who he becomes. )
You can tell me as much as you like about the fish. I don't know much about them myself so I'd love to learn more.
( She's always found them quite... impersonal. Fish can't be petted or held, their beauty only observed from behind glass.
There's a jarring flash of a man being described as a cold fish. But it only lasts for a second. )
Oh, I love dogs. You'll have to tell me all about Sumo, too. I'm sure you're already aware but if you're not, and you don't mind my saying so, did you know that the name Connor means 'lover of hounds'?
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Yes, I would like that.
[He's allowed to like things now. To want things. It still feels alien, like a hardened knot in his chest that he hasn't been able to smooth over. Markus was very good at converting androids, but teaching them how to be deviant didn't seem to be in his wheelhouse. Maybe he thought that was part of it, something they would discover on their own- and maybe under normal circumstances he was right. Nothing about this situation could be considered anywhere close to normal, and Connor was still afraid.
Afraid, but eager to learn? Yes, that was who he was, and that hadn't changed much in the time he'd been activated, only the way that he was able to express it. He'd been created to make humans feel at ease with very purposeful design, innocent and youthful, unassuming. Only androids and at times, Hank, had gotten hints of how hard and cruel he could be. Chloe had no doubt seen that in the moments before the facade had crumbled and his uncertainty had replaced determination in his eyes. He himself had seen it when he'd stared into the unforgiving face of his double in Cyberlife Tower. How had anyone been able to see through that carefully constructed exterior to see who he really was? Or who he might become. His eyes light up a little more, the smile growing infinitesimally wider at her encouragement.]
I first encountered a fish on my very first field assignment for Cyberlife...
[He happily drones on as he reaches for her hand again to lead her back to the tank with the dwarf gourami, telling her all about how he saw one lying on the floor beside its shattered aquarium, how he picked it up and dropped it back in despite the urgency of his mission. A quieter tone when he explains that it was his first instance of software instability, his eyes dropping in embarrassment as his LED spins yellow in the glass.
Maybe Chloe doesn't like fish because they remind her too much of herself? His eyes lift to hers when she starts talking about Sumo, the momentary blips of yellow returning to a placid blue.]
I knew it- before. I guess I never really thought about it. [He tilts his head, thinking about it now.] I wonder if Cyberlife planned it that way?
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