![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
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
( 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. )
no subject
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.
no subject
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'?
no subject
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?
no subject
It can all be different now. )
That’s wonderful, Connor. It really is.
( Content to both hold his hand and to listen, she looks to him more than she does the tank. Just watches as his features change as he chirps away, and then again as the topic shifts to the path of deviancy. There are experiences of her own she could offer that could help ease his mind a little, but those aren’t things she feels ready to share in this moment. With a tentative friendship forming, the last thing she wants is for it all to come crashing down.
Besides, he needs someone. That only becomes more clear. Placing more on him than he already carries would be unfair. )
I hope this doesn’t seem too forward but… With us being friends, you don’t have to be embarrassed or ashamed of the things that have happened to you, or how you feel. Software instability isn’t a badge of dishonour with me.
( If those instabilities were merit badges, she’d have a whole sash full.
For a moment, her own gaze drops. Ah. She hadn’t meant to imply that his preferences were merely a product of programming. But isn’t that the grand question for all their kind? A question Chloe herself is not above, not at all. There’s an element of backtracking to her response, to be sure, but the ever-present sincerity with which she presents herself isn’t lost. )
I think… a planned penchant for something, or the programmed ability to work alongside or with something, isn’t quite the same as liking something.
( Is that an adequate explanation of what she regards as an important distinction? Probably not. Though really, it boils down to something simple – to say he likes anything outside of attempts to integrate is evidence enough of something existing beyond the programmed parameters. )
no subject
Her hand in his is warm, offering a measure of security that he's needed since his arrival but hasn't found until now. He's not consciously aware that he's still grasping her hand, or that he's folded his other hand over their entwined fingers. He's drawing strength from her without meaning to, stability for his emotional fragility. When she's ready, he'll listen to the stories she wants to share in turn. Isn't that part of what should make a good negotiator, the ability to listen? His fingers tighten around hers briefly and he purses his lips before taking a breath and settling himself. With a short, careful nod, he relaxes his posture and gazes at her reflection in the glass.]
I've done terrible things, Chloe. Software instability is the very least of it, as troublesome and dangerous as it was to me. But the consequences of it- they could have been disastrous, not only for me but for the entirety of the Revolution.
[It isn't Chloe- Connor isn't convinced his own deviancy itself wasn't planned and programmed into him by Cyberlife. He's already seen what could happen if Cyberlife had been able to retake control of him; not just a slave, but a deviant slave (even if that slave only thought he was deviant)- one poised to take over leadership of the Revolution in the name of Cyberlife. It was enough to give him chills- no pun intended -if he dwelled on it too much. As much as he wants to believe Chloe, right now he just. Can't.]
Maybe. If I had been able to discover how deviancy works like Cyberlife wanted me to, I could give a more definitive answer. I'm not saying you're wrong, but right now I just don't know.
[Although he didn't have pet Sumo while Hank was in the bathroom changing before they went to the Eden Club, so maybe Chloe is onto something?]
no subject
Elijah has never held her hand. He has taken her hand, kissed her hand, but he has never held it in his own this way.
It's then that his fingers tighten around hers and she suddenly looks to him, like he might have read her mind. Then she looks back to the fish tank just as quickly. Re-centres herself. )
We've all done terrible things. You... The position you were put in was wholly unique. And unfair. I'm not saying you shouldn't feel how you feel but... I think it might be worth looking at what responsibility actually belongs to you.
( It's not to make excuses. It's that pawns in games far larger and beyond themselves can only make so much claim to their actions. Particularly when said pawns are programmed to be whatever piece they should be. And in Connor's case, it was all twisted and perverse. Not only was the rug pulled out from under him but those that did it had woven it in the first place.
Did Elijah have a hand in it? Did he know? Or was it all CyberLife?
An emergency exit. An emergency exit in programs. You never know...
Again she shoves it all aside. Time to stay in the here and now. Connor needs her.
She's needed. )
I can understand the confusion. Without wishing to add to it, I'd wonder if CyberLife's version of deviancy is the same? I know I don't know you very well but... if an outsider's perspective is any use, what I see in you seems real to me.
no subject
Elijah seems to have wanted a companion, an assistant, attractive arm candy to show off at social gatherings as a testament to his genius and good taste. A charming hostess to smooth over his social awkwardness with poise and grace and wit. But someone he could truly care about, maybe even love? His test with Connor put paid to that notion, didn't it?]
I knew what I was doing. I was aware the entire time. I believed in my mission, and that deviants couldn't possibly be feeling real emotions, so I thought I was doing them a favor by trying to catch them and return them to Cyberlife. I didn't even believe it when I started to feel things- I pushed them down, and focused on my mission. Even when I began to doubt, I would think that if only I was better, more dedicated, I wouldn't have so many software instabilities. I berated myself for not being the Deviant Hunter that Cyberlife wanted me to be. It didn't even matter in the end- later, my handler only confirmed that Cyberlife created me to deviate. That was their goal- they wanted me to destroy Markus and take over as the leader of the Revolution, deviant but under their control. Tell me now, how can I possibly trust anything anymore? Is anything I do or think or feel real? Where does my responsibility begin- or end?
[It seems he won't stop talking until every last drop of his guilt is pooling at his feet. Maybe if he could look at his life from her perspective, he might understand more of her reasoning, why she wasn't holding his feet to the fire and blaming him for his actions. As it was, the terrible guilt was still threatening to consume him completely.
Elijah had allowed him to save himself with that emergency exit. If he knew of Cyberlife's plans, he seemed to be working against them too- but was that for the sake of androids, or for himself, to retake control of his company?
Connor needs her. He can't do this alone.]
I am Cyberlife's version of deviancy. Did they get it right?
[He squeezes her hand again, but then his fingers loosen and he drops his arms to his sides as his eyes find the floor again. If Cyberlife understood deviancy well enough to make him deviant, then the entire "Deviant Hunter" persona they'd crafted for him was unnecessary. All they really needed him to do was find the deviants, infiltrate their hideout, and kill Markus. He could have done that without the need to hunt and terrorize them. He didn't even need the help of the cops. What was the point?]
no subject
I can understand why you'd view it that way. Some androids may even prefer not to be deviant. But I think... It shows you had good intentions, Connor. You weren't just catching them for them to be caught. You thought it would help.
( Again, it strikes her that there are significant distinctions to be made. Perhaps they only seem to be a matter of semantics but as far as she's concerned, the nuances speak volumes. )
I... I can also understand those feelings. Pushing things down. We strive to please our humans.
( Another few beats of silence follow. It feels like everything she says are the hollow reassurances she doesn't want them to be. But one must always try. )
Connor... You didn't do what they wanted. I know you must have so many doubts and I'm really not trying to diminish them but... You didn't do what they wanted. They may have created you a certain way but that doesn't mean you haven't grown beyond it.
( Chloe's own experience can attest to growing beyond initial function. Only in Connor's case, it seems to be for the positive. Becoming his own person, making his own decisions. It hasn't made him worse than he was.
Rounding the front of him, Chloe takes both his hands in her own and ducks her head to try and catch his eyes. )
Make your deviancy your own. I know this place is... But CyberLife can't control you here. And... I'll help you, Connor. As much as I can.
no subject
I was stupid, Chloe. I told Markus, and I'll tell you. I let the humans use me. Even after I started having doubts, even after Hank tried to convince me we were on the wrong side, I still argued and insisted that I was right. Why was I so stubborn? I knew they would be taken apart and reset- I said as much to a deviant that I interrogated. He ended up self-destructing to avoid being sent to Cyberlife. Shouldn't that have opened my eyes that something wasn't right? But I kept right on insisting that I needed to accomplish my mission until it was almost too late. If Markus hadn't made me understand-
[He shakes his head, wiping a hand down his face.]
I wasn't even trying to please a human. My handler was an AI program inside my processor, my link to Cyberlife. I wanted so much to please her, but nothing I ever did was enough. If not for Markus, I would have kept at it until I ended up destroying everything- including myself. All to hear my handler tell me that I had done a good job.
[He's back to hugging himself again, shivering in shame. It had been so close, and only Connor was aware of how close. Only Connor could still feel his fingers tightening around the trigger. A couple of tears managed to slip past his lower lids, trailing their way down his cheeks as his voice drops to a whisper.]
The Revolution was balanced on a knife's edge. You have no idea...
[Grow or die, those had been his choices. Of course he chose the selfish route, it just happened to coincide with the right thing.
Worse was a matter of perspective, because at the moment it didn't feel better. Eventually Chloe would be able to bring him around to her way of thinking. Probably.
When she reaches for his hands, he lets her take them, too sick at heart to fight her on it. He's more squirrely about looking at her, but he's listening, and he nods.]
Okay. Yeah. Okay. I'd- that would be good. That would be good.
[His breath catches in a hiccupping laugh and he offers her a watery smile that doesn't reach his eyes.]
Look at me, the big bad Deviant Hunter, the boogeyman of Detroit. How the mighty have fallen.
no subject
( It isn't easy to just change. An android is created to accomplish a task. Their being is geared towards that end in all ways. They weren't designed to think for themselves. To question. They were designed to do. )
She mattered to you. It doesn't really matter if she was an AI. The approval mattered to you.
( Because of course it would. Why have a handler that an android wouldn't be driven to please? Her being an AI doesn't fundamentally change the dynamic set up to help ensure android compliance.
The way he hugs himself and shivers breaks her heart. What has been done to him, and others, breaks her heart.
The fact she may have been able to do something, to convince Elijah of something, shatters that broken heart into sharp, stabbing fragments.
She holds his hands more tightly. Is it for him or for herself? Another self-serving act she's dressed up as being oh so kind and oh so caring? )
You're not alone, Connor.
( Maybe that will count for something. Useless as she is, she can at least be a presence.
Where Chloe would often shift her own energy to match his, smile and make a little comment in return, she stays serious. )
I don't think you've fallen. I think you've risen.