driftfleet | Libuscha IV System Mingle (no. 1)

[he just shrugs in response]

I'm just saying.

[he glances up at the tree again] So what, we gotta - talk about it or something? [muttered] Gross.

Maybe. I can't say I know exactly what it needs to proceed.

[he crosses his arms and tips his head back to sigh, pained again]

It's all subjective shit. I mean, we both kinda fit the first thing; you broke through your programming, I refused to die a bunch of times - that counts, right? Same difference? [he winces a little] Fuck if I know.

[Pausing, Connor moves to circle around the water's edge, getting a better look at the tree from other angles. It's an impressive feat to grow here, but that's not what he's searching for. There's no evidence of anything being left on the ground ... though he stops when he identifies a series of footprints around the water's edge. At least four different sets of shoes made the marks, though they're jumbled up.]

Well, we aren't the first to come here. It appears at least four people approached the water before leaving again. I don't know how that relates to the tasks we need to complete, but it could point towards the sequence of events once the tree does something in response.

[Ben glances over with a curious look, then steps over to take a look himself. Though he can't really see them in the way Connor can, he crouches down to squint at the footprints . . . and then with an amused huff, reaches up to activate his eye to see them better]

Are we playing detective, then? [he scratches at his cheek, quiet for a few long minutes as he thinks, before he stands up to look around, eyeing the ground for more footprints that aren't theirs] Four out of how many, though? A bunch, right?

It's likely there have been others. [He glances back over the deeper side of the shoreline.] But the ground has been disturbed too much to be sure. We can probably assume not everyone succeeds in getting a gift from this tree.

[he makes a noise of agreement] People probably left and came back, too. For more info or - I dunno, two of those requirements could be literal. [he glances over at Connor] Like, you can literally unburden yourself or you can show you have a kind heart by doing something nice for someone. [he shrugs]

[Connor nods, working through the various meanings the phrases could have.]

I doubt I'll be able to do any physical unburdening. I don't own much to start with.

[there's the faintest sound of metal sliding against metal, as Ben plays with the panel in his palm]

Same, really. And none of like, my parts are a burden either. Not anymore. Kinda grew out of that.

The kind heart shit is kinda . . . out. I mean, you can try it, but if I do it, it'll just feel - I dunno, forced? Even if I mean it.

Edited 2018-12-15 06:52 (UTC)

It's unfortunate that buying the coat for me doesn't count. Otherwise you would have already had something waiting when you got here.

[Yes, he's calling that out as a kind act.]

You're right though - doing so with the expectation of some kind of reward seems to defeat the purpose of it.

[his nose scrunches up, how dare you call it out]

I doubt that would've counted, dude. It was just a jacket.

But yeah, that's what I mean. Might work for people who like, do nice shit all the time. But for someone like me? Ain't gonna fly.

[so that leaves the one thing, which he can't think of a damn thing, or the other . . . ugh] So - say we figure it out. It goes without saying that whatever it is doesn't leave the cave, right? Like, if it's private shit.

It's already apparent it didn't count.

[This doesn't bother Connor or anything. It's just a fact of this tree's abstract standards. He gives Ben a quizzical look.]

The method? Or what we do specifically?

Edited 2018-12-15 08:33 (UTC)

[Ben personally thinks the tree's abstract standards can shove it, but that's Ben. He sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose with his flesh hand]

More the latter. I'm just saying - if I end up dropping some deep dark secret of mine? Keep it to yourself.

All right...

[If he sounds uncertain, it's only because Connor isn't sure who he would tell that sort of thing. Or why Ben thinks he would. He understands the concept of confidentiality. He's no longer in a position where just being ordered to keep quiet would be enough, but he's still not about to go broadcasting secrets all over the place.]

I'm not going to tell anyone.

[he rubs at his face, peeking through his fingers to watch Connor at the tone of his voice. And then he sighs, and decides maybe he should just - be honest, for once. And not just . . . himself about things]

I don't think you will. But like, people like me? I can think you won't, logically, but there's also part of me that doesn't believe it, so hearing that you won't kinda calms that stupid part down. Does that make sense?

You mean an irrational worry.

[At least Connor can say that these days without being too clinical about it. It's not the kindest phrasing - he never did get the hang of that part. Yet he understands it far better now than he would have back in his machine days, where his programming would have logged the answer and spat out the response.]

You need it to be clear.

[he appreciates someone else being blunt about it for once, even if he winces a little]

Right. [a shrug] Seems like nothing, but later on when my brain decides to remind me about all this, I can say "hey, he said he wouldn't talk about it" and I'll probably be fine. [dryly] Human brains suck, by the way.

They have their shortcomings.

[He's being polite. Human brains are pretty terrible. Connor doesn't have much room to be judgemental, though, given the irrational thoughts he is plagued with.]

I think I understand, though. The process of going over something when you don't need to.

[Even while he was still a machine, Connor had his fair share of fretting over interactions from earlier in the day. So much of his time spent with Hank and chasing deviants had lead to him going back through the events and wondering, was that the right choice? Why did he make that choice?]

[he snorts at the politeness. One day he'll get Connor not to be polite and it'll be great]

Yeah? [he scratches at his cheek, peering at Connor a little curiously before he turns and looks around for somewhere to sit. He finally settles for somewhere right under the tree, grunting as he does so]

Guess android brains aren't that much better, if you're prone to that kinda shit, too.

I'm not prone to it, just-- [Connor cuts himself off, annoyed. This kind of discussion is new territory to him, when he hasn't had much frame of reference for what all his irregularities as a machine actually meant.] It does happen. And it's hard to get used to.

[He doesn't bother to sit, though he does follow Ben over to where he takes his seat.]

I know what it feels like to worry.

[Ben leans forward on his knees to frown at Connor] I know you do. But it's hard to get used to because you don't get used to it, dude. It just - happens, when you least expect it. Most of the time when you don't want it to.

It's less getting used to it and more - I guess, knowing how to work through it when it's the really intense kind of worrying.

[The idea that worry isn't something he'll ever adapt to is... honestly unsettling. Connor didn't think it would be easy but surely there was an endpoint to it.]

So this is one of the ways you do it?

One of them, yeah. [he rubs a hand over his mouth as he pauses, thinking] A lot of people just - they'll find someone they trust and they'll talk it out with them. Or they'll talk it out with themselves, sometimes I do that. I sound insane but it helps a little.

[he shrugs] But everything I do is either a process or a routine - orderly stuff. Since like, it's always intense for me. I'm sure you've figured out by now what's wrong.

[It's not hard to put the pieces together once they're present. Connor was intended to work on active investigations with live criminals and assailants. An understanding of human psychology - and pathology - was vital in being able to do that job without outside direction at every turn. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder wasn't a difficult conclusion to reach, given the circumstances.]

I have a good idea, yes. [After dealing with Hank, he's more attuned to the signs of mental health issues than he would have been a month ago. Not to mention having more empathy for it.] It must be hard to establish a regular routine in the Fleet, when it's constantly moving to different environments.

It's not . . . hard, but it's tricky sometimes. [he folds his arms on his knees, leaning on them. It's strange putting it into words, because he's never really had to. People just - knew, that he either had routines or he did shit a certain way because he had to, and that was that. He's never explained it, and especially not to someone in order to

- he isn't even sure. Help them? Is he helping? Is it even making sense?] I try to keep it vague enough that I can - switch things in and out. Like, window-shopping, or finding some kind of labor job, or like, if there's an arena or underground fight clubs, I'll join those and burn off some anger. Those are all things I can do at any stop we go to, and I just have to adjust the details depending on the planet.

[he pauses, his nose wrinkling faintly in disgust as he remembers last month's utter failure]

But like I said, it doesn't always work. I even have like, set routines that don't change, but sometimes I just get - you know, in a bad way. It was like that last month, so I mostly stuck to the ships when I wasn't picking fights on the planet.

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