Xaeris
Mar 19, 2008, 02:43 PM
You can't imagine how much it sucks to have a story done, then spend the next hour thinking up a title. Granted, it was while poaching jaggos, but still.
Anyhoo, this is indeed a one shot; it reads fine by itself though it's still in continuity. As a reminder, the year we play in is AC 100.
~~~~
Do androids dream of electric sheep? It’s an interesting question, but one that won’t be answered here. Here, is a woman lying awake in her bed, alone. She’s not turning or tossing though; in fact, she’s lying deathly still on her side of the bed. If one weren’t paying close attention, he might think that the other usual occupant of the bed has a thing for real dolls. So it is established that she isn’t sleeping; she’s waiting. Normally, that might just be for morning, but it’ll be a slightly different story tonight.
It is pitch dark in the room, so the only notice the woman gets of the door’s opening is the soft hum of the motor that retracts it into the wall. Her torso rises from the mattress with a dull motion, like a creation just brought to life, to identify the intruder. It’s not an unwelcome intruder; it’s a child, maybe seven or eight years old. He walks into the room, by the bedside, nonchalantly as can a child manage, yet he doesn’t turn his face to the woman. Instead, he’s looking away, almost as if he’s frustrated with his own childishness.
“Yo-yo, what’s wrong?” she asks. She points a finger at the archway over the door, which turns on the lights. “Did you have a bad dream?” It is curious that the woman talks to the boy as a mother would her son considering they’re not the first thing alike. The woman’s skin is pale, like summer’s snow (yes, you read that right), and her hair is an obviously synthetic and glistening batch of confetti that hangs down to her shoulders. Her face is round and her features are symmetrical down to the nanometer. The eyes are unblinking, always bearing their glass orbs. All in all, she possesses a quality owned only by living things that shouldn’t be alive to begin with.
And standing by the bed, is the boy who is shaking his head ‘no’ to the question. He’s in a full set of oversized pajamas: pants, jacket, slippers, hat, the whole kit n’ caboodle. His ears, not tucked inside the hat, give him away as a beast. They’re thin, but relatively long, culminating in black, furry tips. Aside from that and his dark, rich textured skin, there’s not much else to note.
“You must miss your father then?” is the caseal’s second guess. The boy winces, further ashamed of his immaturity, but that just gets a light chuckle and a scoop into his mother’s lap. “There’s no shame in it yo-yo.”
“I don’t miss that buffoon,” the boy says, quite eloquently at that. He thrusts his arms into a folded position, making himself look even smaller held on top of the woman’s legs. “I’m just restless without a bedtime story, that’s all.”
“Fair enough. Well then, how about I tell you one?” she suggests. The boy nods and allows himself to lean back to rest his head beneath his mother’s breasts. “I’ll tell you how your father and I first met.”
(****)
Let’s see, this was a while ago actually; AC 65. At that time, I was still with the Allied Military Force as a lieutenant colonel. Back then, I don’t think you would have recognized your mommy. My leg piece was sort of like a skirt, except it was made entirely from metal. It wouldn’t move or give for anything; you can’t imagine how much of a pain it was to try and sit down. There was this drawn out calculus I’d go through while sizing up a seat to see if I could actually sit on the thing.
On my torso, I had sort of a bulky thing on, but it wouldn’t have looked ridiculous were it not for the toilet lid attached to the back. I think it was there to jam radar or something; I never asked. My arms were just as bulky; let me tell you, it’s a good thing casts don’t have to do number two, otherwise, I’d never have been able to wipe. …Hey, don’t give me that look. I think your father summed up my appearance best when we met, but I’m getting ahead of myself. The entire thing was this light awful scheme of red and black, as per command of my superior officer.
Oh, but I have to tell you about my face! See, I’ve always had this fleshie face that you and your father know and love so much- hey, stop laughing. I may not have brought you into this world, but I sure can take you out of it mister. Anyway, it’s a pretty face, but it’s not very intimidating, so I had something made. It was sort of like a purple plate of metal strapped over my entire face except for my lips. Don’t ask me how I could see through it, I could spend the entire night explaining the mirror setup in that thing.
It was an average day on Parum. These days, things are, relatively, calm, but back then, the generation that had fought in the tail end of the Era of Chaos hadn’t quite died off yet. So, while it was by all accounts peaceful, there was a great deal more involved in keeping that peace. Small rebellions needed to be quelled, fanatic leaders had to be interrogated: that sort of thing. That day, I arrived at base for a new mission. It was just an information relay set up in the city, so it wasn’t big like the one you’d find in Hotles. Single story, couple of hallways from the entrance leading to different offices; it was sort of like your school.
I didn’t need to walk far before I met up with my commanding officer. He was a tall man, even taller than me; you’d barely come up past his knee. Like me, his parts were the same gaudy scheme of red and black. Unlike me though, his parts weren’t like heavy armor. Sure, it was a series of plating, but they clung close to the form of a man, rather than creating a bulky, immovable object. He didn’t opt to have a fleshie face; it was more like one of those helmets you see on those ancient soldiers in your history books.
“Lieutenant Alexis, how convenient,” he said while saluting me. I saluted back, of course. “I was just about to go have you paged.”
“You have a new mission for me Colonel JiEin?” I asked. My voice wasn’t as soothing and comforting as it is now- seriously, I will feed you your ears. I didn’t see any reason to use my vocal morpher and it just consumed power; a miniscule amount mind you, but if I thought it had no purpose, then there was still no reason to have it on. So, I asked him that in this monotone, barely feminine voice.
“Yes, an escort,” he replied. Yo-yo, if you ever become a Guardian, never, ever, take the escort missions. Your clients will challenge your grip on your sanity. But that’s not the reason I hated escort missions back then. In fact, I didn’t hate them at all; I just saw them as tasks I wasn’t suited for. “I’m aware of your opinion, but command instructed that I put my best person on it.”
“In that case colonel, shouldn’t you go?” I asked.
“I would, but our client has specifically requested a female escort,” he told me. That’s your father for you. He tolerates a dip in quality if he can get a pair of jumblies to stare at for it.
“How illogical. Very well, there is no other option. Brief me, please,” I said.
“Let’s walk to the PPT port; I’ll do it on the way,” he said, walking past me for the door. I followed him. It probably would have been quicker to take a car, but there was no need to hurry and it was better left at base for anyone who did need it. This was my thought process back then dear: logic, logic, logic. I really was, well, a robot, back then. Now, that’s not a word you use in polite conversation, understand? But in this case, it was true.
Hotles was much the same then as it is now, though you’ve never actually been to Parum so I guess that doesn’t mean much to you. As we walked through the streets, the colonel started briefing me. “GRM Conglomerate and Yohmei Corporation are negotiating some technology trade, so Yohmei’s head of R&D is coming here, to GRM’s head office.”
“Such a person hardly warrants the guard of our unit,” I said. I normally wouldn’t interrupt like that, but JiEin was a fairly laid back officer all things considered. I knew it wouldn’t put him off to explain.
He told me, “Yohmei’s head of R&D is the current head of Neudaiz’s second noble house, House Launcher. The Communion of Gurhal canonized him Second Saint just last month. The mission should pose no problems, but we have to reassure the CoG he’s in good hands.”
We walked a little longer. I remember seeing a wild koltova running loose with a man chasing after it. I’m pretty sure it got ran over, but that’s neither here nor there. We arrived at the receiving outside the port; according to the colonel, your father would be meeting us after departing from his terminal. I was confused as to how we were supposed to spot him, but that proved to be a non issue when I actually saw him.
You’re used to the girls on Neudaiz wearing flowing robes and being wrapped in bedsheets. On Parum though, the dress style is much more…modern. Women wear pants and shorts just like men, and you’ll see a man running around in tights now and then too. So, when a person disembarks from the port wearing what could easily pass for a skirt (a hakama, as I’d later learn to call it), you notice.
I didn’t really care for appearances back then, so I didn’t take note of much else. Your father was quite the heartbreaker back then though; his hair came down to his waist, like it does now, but back then, he actually combed it. He had a slender body; even through his hakama and the noble coat he wore over it, it was easy to see. His eyes were, and still are, obviously, green, just like yours. According to him, deep green eyes are a sign of incredible technic potential, but of course, you know how he likes to pat himself on the back.
“Ah, colonel!” he called out from several yards away. I guess our gaudy paintjobs stood out just as much as his skirt. Now…you remember the first time you got close to your father, right? As he approached JiEin, I felt a great dread. At the time though, I could barely register such feelings, so it was a completely foreign sensation. It was like a fish experiencing drowning, or a blind person being blinded by a flash. However foreign it was though, it was definitely real. I’ll never forget that feeling, like cold water being drained from my insides, like needles being pulled out from beneath my skin.
“It’s her first time,” JiEin said when your father looked at my convulsing body. He had good reason to be calm, as the feeling subsided after a few moments. It had left me frantic in the brain, though I wasn’t about to show it. I don’t think I would have even known how.
Your father just snickered, “I’ll never be able to make a good first impression like this.”
“My lieutenant here will be your escort. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay.” And with that, JiEin left us, presumably to go back to base, but rumor at the time had it he was working parttime at a restaurant calling himself “the iron chef.” What was it he made…noodles? Hmm, I can’t recall. Anyway, your father, crass gentleman that he is, walked up to me and looked me over, from top to bottom. He practically had to break his neck looking up, seeing as he was at eye level with what would be a pair of breasts.
Like I said, he summed up my appearance well: “Oh my, you’re built like a brick house.” I didn’t say anything. I just waited for notice of our destination. But your father, bless his heart, wanted to chat before getting to any sort of business. “Sorry about that. There are no photons in my body, so I possess a sort of vacuum aura. I’m basically walking death; isn’t that cool?!” I still didn’t say anything. “Geez, you don’t talk much, do you?”
“If you have a destination on your agenda, I’ll escort you there now,” I said. The sound of my voice made him jump back, but it was only a momentary surprise. He shrugged and smirked again.
“Fine, fine. I have an appointment at GRM. Take me there, would you? Oh, and do you think you could manage enough conversation to tell me your name?” he asked.
It was a simple request and I naively thought it would make him shut up. So, I told him, “Alexis Negale. I’m lieutentant colonel of the AMF’s 19th regiment.”
“Lovely to meet you Alexis! As for me, my name is-“ he tried to say. In the years I came to know your father, I don’t think he’s ever managed to tell anyone his name. If he tried, something would always intervene to prevent it, whether it be a nearby explosion, a low flying jet, or just something interrupting him. In this case, it was the last one.
“Unimportant. I’m obligated to address you as St. Launcher.”
“You’re just cranky because your toilet seat is up.”
****
I got him to GRM’s plaza without incident. He wouldn’t shut up along the way though. Consumers enter GRM’s main building and have free reign of the first floor where everything is sold. We took the same entrance, and took the elevator, but not before your father gave about a dozen people seizures just by walking by. Somewhere near the top floor, we got off and he greeted the secretary, left his name, stated his appointment, you know how it goes.
“Well, aren’t you going to ask?” he asked, when he was done. I suppose he had been asked to wait and decided to while the time away by being his obnoxious self.
“Ask what?” I had no idea what he was talking about.
He tugged on the lapel of his jacket, for no reason other than it probably looked cool in his mind and answered, “most people expect a newman when they’re introduced to a Yohmei executive/CoG saint. Doesn’t it interest you that I’m human?”
“No.” I said it, plain out, just like that. Normally, that ceases any further attempts at conversation by any fleshie I’m accompanying. But him, just made him try harder.
“Really? Hmm, and here I thought you were the stereotypical, all logical cast.” It was a curious statement. By all casual accounts, I was the stereotypical, all logic, no nonsense cast, yet there he was telling me that my lack of interest was a sign of something contradictory to that.
So, I said, “I don’t understand.”
“Well, I don’t have one of those fancy silicon brains, so bear with me. I imagine that the logical thing to do when you meet a new person is to make an assessment of him and project some expectations based on whatever information you have.” He paused, probably hoping to get some confirmation that I was following his logic. Then, he remembered he was talking to someone with a steel plate strapped on to her face and continued. “So, if it doesn’t interest you that I’m human, that must mean you didn’t bother giving me any thought. Which means you don’t like me. Very uncastlike.”
“I don’t dislike you. I just…have no utility to gain from speaking with you.”
“Oo, you paused. Not used to lying, are you? Well, that’s understandable; I don’t expect imagination to be the forte of a cast.”
I didn’t get a chance to reply. The secretary called over to us to inform him that Mr. Ryght was ready to see him. Your father dropped our conversation like you drop dishes into the sink, you should really rinse those first by the way, and went ahead. I’ll skip the meeting; it wasn’t anything of interest. Actually, the entire grinding scam was birthed right there in that very room, but that’s a different story.
About two hours later, we were out the door, waiting on the elevator. The building was styled like a gallery, so we were standing by the railing looking all the way down to the first floor. I thought maybe his meeting would have left him with other things to occupy his mind, but no such luck. “Why are you so desperate to be a cast, lieutenant?” he asked.
Since it got me such an…elaborate, answer before, I decided to stick with what worked and said “I don’t understand.”
“Well, judging from your face, you can’t be more than ten years old. Even with that face plate strapped on, I can tell it’s the model with expression servos. And yet, here you are acting like a cast with emotion processing capacities of one who’s seen a century.” He took a hop and jumped onto the railing. Given how billowing his hakama was, I think it’s actually somewhat impressive he didn’t trip on the damn thing and fall over.
“However much of a human façade is placed onto us, we are still casts,” I told him. Even though I said that, I have to admit, I was getting pretty uneasy about where he was standing. “Whatever emotive capabilities I’ve been designed with, they are just for the sake of facilitating interactions with your kind.”
“O rly?” And with that, he fell backwards off the railing, towards the several stories below. You’ll never feel it yo-yo, but when your system processes go from consuming 1% of your CPU to 99%, it hurts. But of course, you’ve been faked out by your father’s Ryuker more than once, so you know he was standing right behind me not two seconds later. “Seems to me if they’re just tools toward that end, you should be able to control them, yes?”
What could I say? Up to that point, I had never lost control of my processes like that. You fluidsacks call it fear, and honestly…I’d be kidding myself if I didn’t call it the same.
“Well, it’s just my opinion, but I don’t think of you toasters as being less human than the rest of us.” The elevator, finally, arrived. I guess it had a full set of flights to complete. “Plus, I don’t think of myself as any less of a machine than you are.”
That was the first of my dealings with your father. He’d have lots of business to do on Parum and I’d always volunteer for escort. I’m sure he’s told you about some of them; if I have to hear one more time about the De Ragan he one shot with fire, I just may scream. And…you’re asleep. You could have said something.
~~~~
And that concludes this diversion. Next week, business as usual, new thread.
Anyhoo, this is indeed a one shot; it reads fine by itself though it's still in continuity. As a reminder, the year we play in is AC 100.
~~~~
Do androids dream of electric sheep? It’s an interesting question, but one that won’t be answered here. Here, is a woman lying awake in her bed, alone. She’s not turning or tossing though; in fact, she’s lying deathly still on her side of the bed. If one weren’t paying close attention, he might think that the other usual occupant of the bed has a thing for real dolls. So it is established that she isn’t sleeping; she’s waiting. Normally, that might just be for morning, but it’ll be a slightly different story tonight.
It is pitch dark in the room, so the only notice the woman gets of the door’s opening is the soft hum of the motor that retracts it into the wall. Her torso rises from the mattress with a dull motion, like a creation just brought to life, to identify the intruder. It’s not an unwelcome intruder; it’s a child, maybe seven or eight years old. He walks into the room, by the bedside, nonchalantly as can a child manage, yet he doesn’t turn his face to the woman. Instead, he’s looking away, almost as if he’s frustrated with his own childishness.
“Yo-yo, what’s wrong?” she asks. She points a finger at the archway over the door, which turns on the lights. “Did you have a bad dream?” It is curious that the woman talks to the boy as a mother would her son considering they’re not the first thing alike. The woman’s skin is pale, like summer’s snow (yes, you read that right), and her hair is an obviously synthetic and glistening batch of confetti that hangs down to her shoulders. Her face is round and her features are symmetrical down to the nanometer. The eyes are unblinking, always bearing their glass orbs. All in all, she possesses a quality owned only by living things that shouldn’t be alive to begin with.
And standing by the bed, is the boy who is shaking his head ‘no’ to the question. He’s in a full set of oversized pajamas: pants, jacket, slippers, hat, the whole kit n’ caboodle. His ears, not tucked inside the hat, give him away as a beast. They’re thin, but relatively long, culminating in black, furry tips. Aside from that and his dark, rich textured skin, there’s not much else to note.
“You must miss your father then?” is the caseal’s second guess. The boy winces, further ashamed of his immaturity, but that just gets a light chuckle and a scoop into his mother’s lap. “There’s no shame in it yo-yo.”
“I don’t miss that buffoon,” the boy says, quite eloquently at that. He thrusts his arms into a folded position, making himself look even smaller held on top of the woman’s legs. “I’m just restless without a bedtime story, that’s all.”
“Fair enough. Well then, how about I tell you one?” she suggests. The boy nods and allows himself to lean back to rest his head beneath his mother’s breasts. “I’ll tell you how your father and I first met.”
(****)
Let’s see, this was a while ago actually; AC 65. At that time, I was still with the Allied Military Force as a lieutenant colonel. Back then, I don’t think you would have recognized your mommy. My leg piece was sort of like a skirt, except it was made entirely from metal. It wouldn’t move or give for anything; you can’t imagine how much of a pain it was to try and sit down. There was this drawn out calculus I’d go through while sizing up a seat to see if I could actually sit on the thing.
On my torso, I had sort of a bulky thing on, but it wouldn’t have looked ridiculous were it not for the toilet lid attached to the back. I think it was there to jam radar or something; I never asked. My arms were just as bulky; let me tell you, it’s a good thing casts don’t have to do number two, otherwise, I’d never have been able to wipe. …Hey, don’t give me that look. I think your father summed up my appearance best when we met, but I’m getting ahead of myself. The entire thing was this light awful scheme of red and black, as per command of my superior officer.
Oh, but I have to tell you about my face! See, I’ve always had this fleshie face that you and your father know and love so much- hey, stop laughing. I may not have brought you into this world, but I sure can take you out of it mister. Anyway, it’s a pretty face, but it’s not very intimidating, so I had something made. It was sort of like a purple plate of metal strapped over my entire face except for my lips. Don’t ask me how I could see through it, I could spend the entire night explaining the mirror setup in that thing.
It was an average day on Parum. These days, things are, relatively, calm, but back then, the generation that had fought in the tail end of the Era of Chaos hadn’t quite died off yet. So, while it was by all accounts peaceful, there was a great deal more involved in keeping that peace. Small rebellions needed to be quelled, fanatic leaders had to be interrogated: that sort of thing. That day, I arrived at base for a new mission. It was just an information relay set up in the city, so it wasn’t big like the one you’d find in Hotles. Single story, couple of hallways from the entrance leading to different offices; it was sort of like your school.
I didn’t need to walk far before I met up with my commanding officer. He was a tall man, even taller than me; you’d barely come up past his knee. Like me, his parts were the same gaudy scheme of red and black. Unlike me though, his parts weren’t like heavy armor. Sure, it was a series of plating, but they clung close to the form of a man, rather than creating a bulky, immovable object. He didn’t opt to have a fleshie face; it was more like one of those helmets you see on those ancient soldiers in your history books.
“Lieutenant Alexis, how convenient,” he said while saluting me. I saluted back, of course. “I was just about to go have you paged.”
“You have a new mission for me Colonel JiEin?” I asked. My voice wasn’t as soothing and comforting as it is now- seriously, I will feed you your ears. I didn’t see any reason to use my vocal morpher and it just consumed power; a miniscule amount mind you, but if I thought it had no purpose, then there was still no reason to have it on. So, I asked him that in this monotone, barely feminine voice.
“Yes, an escort,” he replied. Yo-yo, if you ever become a Guardian, never, ever, take the escort missions. Your clients will challenge your grip on your sanity. But that’s not the reason I hated escort missions back then. In fact, I didn’t hate them at all; I just saw them as tasks I wasn’t suited for. “I’m aware of your opinion, but command instructed that I put my best person on it.”
“In that case colonel, shouldn’t you go?” I asked.
“I would, but our client has specifically requested a female escort,” he told me. That’s your father for you. He tolerates a dip in quality if he can get a pair of jumblies to stare at for it.
“How illogical. Very well, there is no other option. Brief me, please,” I said.
“Let’s walk to the PPT port; I’ll do it on the way,” he said, walking past me for the door. I followed him. It probably would have been quicker to take a car, but there was no need to hurry and it was better left at base for anyone who did need it. This was my thought process back then dear: logic, logic, logic. I really was, well, a robot, back then. Now, that’s not a word you use in polite conversation, understand? But in this case, it was true.
Hotles was much the same then as it is now, though you’ve never actually been to Parum so I guess that doesn’t mean much to you. As we walked through the streets, the colonel started briefing me. “GRM Conglomerate and Yohmei Corporation are negotiating some technology trade, so Yohmei’s head of R&D is coming here, to GRM’s head office.”
“Such a person hardly warrants the guard of our unit,” I said. I normally wouldn’t interrupt like that, but JiEin was a fairly laid back officer all things considered. I knew it wouldn’t put him off to explain.
He told me, “Yohmei’s head of R&D is the current head of Neudaiz’s second noble house, House Launcher. The Communion of Gurhal canonized him Second Saint just last month. The mission should pose no problems, but we have to reassure the CoG he’s in good hands.”
We walked a little longer. I remember seeing a wild koltova running loose with a man chasing after it. I’m pretty sure it got ran over, but that’s neither here nor there. We arrived at the receiving outside the port; according to the colonel, your father would be meeting us after departing from his terminal. I was confused as to how we were supposed to spot him, but that proved to be a non issue when I actually saw him.
You’re used to the girls on Neudaiz wearing flowing robes and being wrapped in bedsheets. On Parum though, the dress style is much more…modern. Women wear pants and shorts just like men, and you’ll see a man running around in tights now and then too. So, when a person disembarks from the port wearing what could easily pass for a skirt (a hakama, as I’d later learn to call it), you notice.
I didn’t really care for appearances back then, so I didn’t take note of much else. Your father was quite the heartbreaker back then though; his hair came down to his waist, like it does now, but back then, he actually combed it. He had a slender body; even through his hakama and the noble coat he wore over it, it was easy to see. His eyes were, and still are, obviously, green, just like yours. According to him, deep green eyes are a sign of incredible technic potential, but of course, you know how he likes to pat himself on the back.
“Ah, colonel!” he called out from several yards away. I guess our gaudy paintjobs stood out just as much as his skirt. Now…you remember the first time you got close to your father, right? As he approached JiEin, I felt a great dread. At the time though, I could barely register such feelings, so it was a completely foreign sensation. It was like a fish experiencing drowning, or a blind person being blinded by a flash. However foreign it was though, it was definitely real. I’ll never forget that feeling, like cold water being drained from my insides, like needles being pulled out from beneath my skin.
“It’s her first time,” JiEin said when your father looked at my convulsing body. He had good reason to be calm, as the feeling subsided after a few moments. It had left me frantic in the brain, though I wasn’t about to show it. I don’t think I would have even known how.
Your father just snickered, “I’ll never be able to make a good first impression like this.”
“My lieutenant here will be your escort. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay.” And with that, JiEin left us, presumably to go back to base, but rumor at the time had it he was working parttime at a restaurant calling himself “the iron chef.” What was it he made…noodles? Hmm, I can’t recall. Anyway, your father, crass gentleman that he is, walked up to me and looked me over, from top to bottom. He practically had to break his neck looking up, seeing as he was at eye level with what would be a pair of breasts.
Like I said, he summed up my appearance well: “Oh my, you’re built like a brick house.” I didn’t say anything. I just waited for notice of our destination. But your father, bless his heart, wanted to chat before getting to any sort of business. “Sorry about that. There are no photons in my body, so I possess a sort of vacuum aura. I’m basically walking death; isn’t that cool?!” I still didn’t say anything. “Geez, you don’t talk much, do you?”
“If you have a destination on your agenda, I’ll escort you there now,” I said. The sound of my voice made him jump back, but it was only a momentary surprise. He shrugged and smirked again.
“Fine, fine. I have an appointment at GRM. Take me there, would you? Oh, and do you think you could manage enough conversation to tell me your name?” he asked.
It was a simple request and I naively thought it would make him shut up. So, I told him, “Alexis Negale. I’m lieutentant colonel of the AMF’s 19th regiment.”
“Lovely to meet you Alexis! As for me, my name is-“ he tried to say. In the years I came to know your father, I don’t think he’s ever managed to tell anyone his name. If he tried, something would always intervene to prevent it, whether it be a nearby explosion, a low flying jet, or just something interrupting him. In this case, it was the last one.
“Unimportant. I’m obligated to address you as St. Launcher.”
“You’re just cranky because your toilet seat is up.”
****
I got him to GRM’s plaza without incident. He wouldn’t shut up along the way though. Consumers enter GRM’s main building and have free reign of the first floor where everything is sold. We took the same entrance, and took the elevator, but not before your father gave about a dozen people seizures just by walking by. Somewhere near the top floor, we got off and he greeted the secretary, left his name, stated his appointment, you know how it goes.
“Well, aren’t you going to ask?” he asked, when he was done. I suppose he had been asked to wait and decided to while the time away by being his obnoxious self.
“Ask what?” I had no idea what he was talking about.
He tugged on the lapel of his jacket, for no reason other than it probably looked cool in his mind and answered, “most people expect a newman when they’re introduced to a Yohmei executive/CoG saint. Doesn’t it interest you that I’m human?”
“No.” I said it, plain out, just like that. Normally, that ceases any further attempts at conversation by any fleshie I’m accompanying. But him, just made him try harder.
“Really? Hmm, and here I thought you were the stereotypical, all logical cast.” It was a curious statement. By all casual accounts, I was the stereotypical, all logic, no nonsense cast, yet there he was telling me that my lack of interest was a sign of something contradictory to that.
So, I said, “I don’t understand.”
“Well, I don’t have one of those fancy silicon brains, so bear with me. I imagine that the logical thing to do when you meet a new person is to make an assessment of him and project some expectations based on whatever information you have.” He paused, probably hoping to get some confirmation that I was following his logic. Then, he remembered he was talking to someone with a steel plate strapped on to her face and continued. “So, if it doesn’t interest you that I’m human, that must mean you didn’t bother giving me any thought. Which means you don’t like me. Very uncastlike.”
“I don’t dislike you. I just…have no utility to gain from speaking with you.”
“Oo, you paused. Not used to lying, are you? Well, that’s understandable; I don’t expect imagination to be the forte of a cast.”
I didn’t get a chance to reply. The secretary called over to us to inform him that Mr. Ryght was ready to see him. Your father dropped our conversation like you drop dishes into the sink, you should really rinse those first by the way, and went ahead. I’ll skip the meeting; it wasn’t anything of interest. Actually, the entire grinding scam was birthed right there in that very room, but that’s a different story.
About two hours later, we were out the door, waiting on the elevator. The building was styled like a gallery, so we were standing by the railing looking all the way down to the first floor. I thought maybe his meeting would have left him with other things to occupy his mind, but no such luck. “Why are you so desperate to be a cast, lieutenant?” he asked.
Since it got me such an…elaborate, answer before, I decided to stick with what worked and said “I don’t understand.”
“Well, judging from your face, you can’t be more than ten years old. Even with that face plate strapped on, I can tell it’s the model with expression servos. And yet, here you are acting like a cast with emotion processing capacities of one who’s seen a century.” He took a hop and jumped onto the railing. Given how billowing his hakama was, I think it’s actually somewhat impressive he didn’t trip on the damn thing and fall over.
“However much of a human façade is placed onto us, we are still casts,” I told him. Even though I said that, I have to admit, I was getting pretty uneasy about where he was standing. “Whatever emotive capabilities I’ve been designed with, they are just for the sake of facilitating interactions with your kind.”
“O rly?” And with that, he fell backwards off the railing, towards the several stories below. You’ll never feel it yo-yo, but when your system processes go from consuming 1% of your CPU to 99%, it hurts. But of course, you’ve been faked out by your father’s Ryuker more than once, so you know he was standing right behind me not two seconds later. “Seems to me if they’re just tools toward that end, you should be able to control them, yes?”
What could I say? Up to that point, I had never lost control of my processes like that. You fluidsacks call it fear, and honestly…I’d be kidding myself if I didn’t call it the same.
“Well, it’s just my opinion, but I don’t think of you toasters as being less human than the rest of us.” The elevator, finally, arrived. I guess it had a full set of flights to complete. “Plus, I don’t think of myself as any less of a machine than you are.”
That was the first of my dealings with your father. He’d have lots of business to do on Parum and I’d always volunteer for escort. I’m sure he’s told you about some of them; if I have to hear one more time about the De Ragan he one shot with fire, I just may scream. And…you’re asleep. You could have said something.
~~~~
And that concludes this diversion. Next week, business as usual, new thread.