driftfleet | Libuscha IV System Mingle (no. 1)

[he takes them back, giving them another long look before he shoves them into his pocket]

I dunno if "worthwhile" is the word I'd use. Haven't looked at 'em in years.

In the sense that it's something that belongs to you, then.

[he opens his mouth, pauses, then decides against the smartass comment he had on the tip of his tongue]

Sure, whatever. So how do we get you something now?

[Oh. Ben expects the tree to give Connor something as well. With a frown, he looks back up at the branches of the tree. They are about as informative as trees get.]

I'm not sure. The reason why it returned something to you isn't exactly clear.

[All they had done was talk and then transfer some files.]

[well now he's going to think about it. He's frowning, eyes drifting over to the tree. And then he sort of - stiffens out of his usual slouch, a little, when realization dawns on him]

I think I know why. [did he. Accidentally unburden himself somehow] It's 'cuz we talked.

[Talked? That's it? His frown deepens.]

You're going to have to be more specific.

[but he doesn't want to be more specific dammit. He makes a face, almost a wince, then runs a hand through his hair]

Or it's because I let you look at those files, but that seems like it's too easy.

[nngh] I explained - you know, how I deal with shit. Some of it, anyway. I don't . . . [another face] I don't do that. I don't talk about it that way.

[That does clarify things, though not in a particularly positive way. 'Unburden yourself' is what the local legends had said. Connor had taken that to be literal, a divesting of goods that you owned. Instead it had meant something more abstract - emotional. This was unburdening in the sense of conversation and admitting things usually kept under wraps.]

I understand the concept but I don't think I have an equivalent of what you talked about.

[Not specifically, which is how Connor's thinking right now. Though now he's beginning to wonder about alternatives... and what this tree could even provide if he was successful in the task.]

[he rolls his shoulders and crosses his arms once more, giving a Connor a considering look]

Don't think of it as being equivalent, then. [he hunches his shoulders a little in a shrug] In real simple terms, I've got thirty years of life on you - and that's thirty years of learning how to deal with all the new shit you're learning about. Something for you might be something I've never given a second thought, you know? Does that make sense?

Think of it like that instead. [another shrug]

[He's unsure. He knows that much. For much of his life Connor had logged inconsistencies and errors in his program and then buried them, away from his mission parameters and specific requirements that they came into conflict with. Burying didn't delete those instabilities, though. It had allowed them to stack, build, prompt further changes in a cascading line until it finally reached that tipping point. Now that he's free of his programming the inherent knowledge that that was wrong still exists but can be rationalised away.

It's still unfamiliar. Connor looks back up at the tree, glowing softly in the cavern, and has to wonder if it would be worthwhile.]

If I am in the Fleet for another month, I'll have been here as long as I was in Detroit back home.

[It illustrates Ben's point perfectly. Connor doesn't have years of experience, he doesn't even have one. More and more he's coming to understand that it's fortunate he's existed as long as he has.]

[he knows how long Connor's been here, so putting it together - it isn't a lot of time at all. Short enough that Ben would barely consider it at all in the long run, but to Connor - that's significant. Especially given what he was going on in Detroit before he was brought here.

Ben frees a hand to give the android a "go on" gesture]

So talk about it.

That's the thing. I have little to say about the first two months of my existence. It consisted primarily of tests and experiments. I had one active field assignment after I was activated that ended in-- [He pauses for a moment, before continuing.] --the destruction of my previous body, and then I went back into evaluation and testing.

Until I was assigned to the police and to Hank on November fifth, not much happened. And then everything happened.

The - destruction of your previous body. [he repeats it a little incredulously, both eyebrows shooting up] Dude.

[Connor knew while he was in the midst of that sentence that it wasn't the best idea to impart that information. He hadn't even told Hank about that particularly moment in full - of course, Hank had already seen Connor get shot in the head and come back to work hours later. There wasn't as much to explain.

Absently, Connor fidgets with his hands.]

If my body is destroyed or shuts down, my memories are uploaded to CyberLife and installed in a new one. It's a feature of my model.

[Or was. He doubts CyberLife would do it again now, given... circumstances.]

[Ben frowns, eyes drifting down to watch Connor fidget for a moment. He wonders if Connor realizes he's doing it, or even realizes that he has tells in the first place]

Oh, it's a feature. [he says it a little deadpanned, because what the fuck, dude, seriously] And I guess you - remember that, when it transfers your memories and all. The uh, the destruction part.

I do, though there may be some memory lost in the process.

[Connor's not aware of any gaps in his memory from the two times he's had to transfer. If any exist, they're minor enough not to impact on his day to day life.]

That was what my next question was gonna be - if there's any loss 'cuz of the transfering. [it's very weird to think of a concept of data loss as memory loss, because he's familiar with the former, and the latter is . . . uncomfortable to think about]

You said it happened on a field assignment. What happened?

It was a hostage situation. A deviant was holding a child hostage at the edge of a rooftop and I was negotiating with it - him - to secure her safety. The negotiation broke down and he threw himself backwards with the girl.

[So far, so standard reporting. But there is a moment where Connor goes more distant, dropping his hands and focusing on the glimmer of the tree behind Ben. Rushing lights. Roaring wind.]

I was able to pull the girl back onto the rooftop but fell with the deviant in the process.

[Mission accomplished.]

[he almost wants to ask how negotiations could've broken down to that point, but he holds back. Mostly, if he's being honest, because that was the guy's first assignment and that alone is a little incredible]

So they threw you in the deep end right off the bat. Nice of them. [. . .] Good job saving the girl, at least. Sorry you - got destroyed.

[Some puzzlement sets in at that - why shouldn't he be sent out to a situation like that immediately? It's what he was designed to do. Practice and incremental increase in duties is not part of CyberLife's promise when supplying androids. They're fit for purpose as soon as they're activated.

Connor's thoughts on his own destruction are complicated, by virtue of him having any thoughts about it at all. He hadn't considered whether dying was worth avoiding or not until Hank had pointed a gun at his head and asked if he was afraid. In the asking of the question, he had pushed the answer into reality.]

Thanks, but... it was part of the job. I accomplished my mission. It wasn't something I was concerned about at the time.

[he tilts his head, the last part of that ringing with him. It's always an afterthought, isn't it - whatever you do on the job, whether it's the police or the military or what-have-you. He may not fully understand a lot of what Connor's told him so far, but that part he gets.

Hmm. His expression shifts into something a little more neutral]

I get it. Ain't like I haven't been there. [he shrugs a shoulder, then nods to Connor's hands] Is it something that concerns you now? You're fidgety.

[He's nonplussed for a moment, glancing down at his hands - only to find he's twisted some of his fingers together. He pulls them apart abruptly, setting his jaw more tightly.

Rubbing his hands together had long been a part of his program, a humanistic gesture intended to lessen the difference between him and the human officers he was meant to spend his time with. This however wasn't part of that. It was some strange evolution of it since deviancy took hold.]

I haven't thought about it. Not really. [After a beat, he continues with a shade less confidence.] I know that now I don't want to die again. There wouldn't be any coming back from it.

[he can't help but snort, faintly, lips twitching. There's a note of honesty and experience in his voice, buried beneath his usual sarcasm and smartass way of talking] There usually isn't. But it's a good decision to come to, you know, all things considered.

[he considers something for a moment, head tilted, before he decides to just go for it. It isn't like Connor can't just shut him down if he doesn't want to talk]

Then what's got you doing this? [he frees his hands to copy how Connor was fidgeting before, not quite the same because the fingers on his right hand don't move the right way] If it ain't something you've thought much about.

[Good question. Connor lapses into silence, fixating on Ben's mirrored movements for a span before looking back to the man's face. It's hard to rationalise something he wasn't aware he was doing. The gesture, in the past, was an idle movement to prevent him from being unnaturally still. Much the same as his simulated breathing and blinking was. Connor doesn't ruthlessly catalogue his every movement these days or analyse why he's doing it... he did back in the days before he became deviant, tracking over irrational choices as though he could find the underlying code that made it expected.

Lifting his own palm to look at it, he has to shake his head slightly.]

I don't know. I suppose... I don't like it. Thinking about those times. [Times, plural.] The choices were correct as I understood them and I don't think that would necessarily change today. It just doesn't mean the same thing anymore.

[yeah, this is absolutely something he's familiar with. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket with a noise of agreement, watching Connor look at his hand before his eyes are drawn away, back to the tree.

"Times" doesn't escape his notice, but there's no reason to point it out]

I mean, I wouldn't think it would. Big difference between a choice you have to make and a choice you get to make, you know? [a wry noise] No one likes thinking about shit like that, though. Trust me, I know that from experience.

Libuscha IV System Mingle (no. 1)

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