voidtreckernet | 01 - The Jelly Incident

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01 - The Jelly Incident

[The camera comes on to Guri who looks...completely normal, sitting there. But mildly off-put.]

It appears that the first unusual incident has already happened - fortunately enough, I was never a child or adolescent, so I have been spared that, however there are certain aggravating effects nonetheless.

So since I will retain this form, if anybody is in need of an adult to help watch over the children, I can certainly...

[Her hair seems to move.]

Oh, bother

[And a mass of golden hair suddenly appears, erupting outwards like a Christmas tree being cut from its wrapping, covering her face and dropping all the way to her waist. There is a moment of pause, tapping her hand on her knee before parting the hair.]

My hair does grow, so it keeps coming back. All of it.

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[This is where things tend to go off the rails for her. She's trying to live honestly, but... She sighs, turning slightly.]

Yes. Is that going to be a problem? I...understand if it is.

[If she's expecting disgust or fear or some other negative emotion, she won't see it on this face. Devero's eyes have gone wide and he's smiling.] Not at all. That's incredible! I wouldn't have even guessed!

[She halfway was. She tends to get either 'use to advantage' or 'disturbed.' The train is slowly proving her wrong on those accounts.]

Oh. Well, I am glad. It is difficult to...go unnoticed, sometimes. Humans are very good at discerning who does not belong, given half a change.

[Devero resumes combing out her hair, starting now to separate the mass into sections.]

Are there a lot of artificial folks like you where you come from, that people-- er, human people-- can pick you out?

Not many. And I am...unique, even by the standards of others like me.

Oh? [He's so curious-- but also, fundamentally, polite:] I'd love to know how, if you're willing to share.

Edited 2021-03-29 04:21 (UTC)

Oh. Well.

[She shrugs her shoulders a little.]

For one, I've been in continuous operation longer than most of them. They were designed to be...basic decoys. Which ought to tell you much about the basic state of rights for artificial beings in my universe to begin with. Physically identical, but not an illusion that can be sustained at close range.

For another, my design is considerably more advanced. Unlike most of them, for instance, I can eat or drink. Digest fully. My skin is real, not synthetic, so is the hair. As far as I'm aware, there isn't a single human function I cannot perform.

[She sighs.]

So I am definitely more than a droid. But most humans, where I am from, consider me far less.

[As he listens to her speak, he starts to braid her hair. He keeps the different sections under pressure without ever pulling to hard; he really does seem to know what he's doing here.]

I never would have guessed. [Yeah, he said it before, but it's worth saying again.] This doesn't feel any different than braiding Alley's hair.

[He's not so cheerfully sanguine about the last bit of what she has to say, though. He frowns.] That's fucking bullshit. I'm sorry that things are so... unjust, where you come from.

It shouldn't. It is real hair, entirely so.

[But she can parse what he means from the rest.]

Yes. They created artificial life forms by the untold trillions - many of them classed as sentient - but as servitors, without consideration of rights or anything of that nature.

The amount of free droids is very low, but...at least there are some of us. Often freed by our own hands.

That's slavery. I don't care what language they use to dress it up where you come from, if they created life solely to serve-- that's fucking slavery.

Yes, it is. And they mostly dress it up by simply ignoring it.

Frankly, the only surprising thing is how rare droid uprisings are.

[He goes silent for a moment, ostensibly focusing on her hair but mostly trying to calm himself down. When he finally speaks, his voice is a lot more even.]

Where I come from, we did stuff like that. Not with-- droids-- we haven't cracked self-determining AI yet on my world, but with other humans. Chattel slavery, wage slavery... Even when we dressed it up in other names, it was still humans exploiting huge groups of other humans and denying them their personhood while they did. Wars and uprisings and violence could make things change, but it never stopped. It just got more hidden, or directed at a more "acceptable" group, and kept on festering.

It took an apocalypse to make it stop. And since coming here, sometimes-- sometimes I find myself thinking that maybe more worlds, more societies should have apocalypses and get the same chance to-- to reset that mine did. [He shakes his head.] It's an awful thing to think, but it's there anyway.

[He takes an elastic from around his wrist and uses it to secure the end of the thick plait he's made out of her hair. He lets it drop against her back.] --Done.

[She turns her head, reaching back to feel his handiwork, then looks at him.]

I would not overturn how things are in my galaxy if it means that much bloodshed. There are no good outcomes to such things. The victors of the revolution become the oppressors in turn, and it just necessitates another one, sooner or later.

In the end, all it does is claim unique existences, takes away irreplaceable beings.

[She's quiet a moment.]

Sometimes, I suppose, human faults make it so that there's no other outcome. That events have a terrible sort of momentum, and once they reach a certain point, mass violence becomes inevitable.

But I wish it were otherwise.

[He scoots back a little, giving her space on the bunk to check his handiwork. His eyes are fixed down on his hair kit as he packs away the comb.]

That's why I don't like myself for thinking it. It's an awful thought. We went through it on my world, we know what it's like to lose those lives. Every life lost is experience lost, skills lost, knowledge lost.

[Running a hand through his own hair, he sighs.] ...It was a plague, at least. My apocalypse. I wouldn't wish mass violence on anyone or any world, no matter how twisted.

I think it's a very organic thing to think. Very human. You are always two things, I find. But always because you desire truth, solutions.

[She pulled the braid over her shoulder, nodding.]

You do excellent work.

Technically, I'm three: hardware, software, and wetware. [This is Devero choosing to interpret her comment literally, because he's not quite sure what to do with what she really meant.]

Thanks. Think it'll hold for you?

I think it will.

[She pauses.]

So you are a a cyborg? Though the term 'wetware' is unfamiliar to me.

I prefer the term augment, but. Yeah. Wetware's the stuff I was born with. [He thumbs his chest in demonstration, indicating his body.]

"Augment," she repeated, considering the unfamiliar word. "May I ask what constitutes what? I'm perfectly willing to reciprocate, if that's a condition."

"It's not a condition, but I'd be happy to hear anything you'd like to share, just for knowledge's sake."

He takes his Interface off his ear and converts it with a few quick motions to its handheld mode. He brings up a map of his Implant on the device, then turns it around and offers it to her. The image on the little screen shows a faint outline of his body; picked out inside is constellation of nodes, tiny transmitters scattered across his hands, marking his joints, shining out in his heart and lungs and between his shoulders. Some of those nodes are paired with traceries of wire, mostly following the musculature in his arms and legs.

"This is my Implant, my internal hardware," he says. He indicates himself and says, "Everything else here is the wetware. All the rest of my hardware and software is peripheral-- like my Interface there, that you're holding."

As cyborgs go, he's terribly unimpressive, really. He doesn't even have a metal hand or anything!

She takes it, looking over it carefully. She's seldom heard of such a good blending of person and machine.

And he's more impressive - it's a subtler thing.

"Oh, this is fascinating."

"You think?" If he sounds surprised, it's because since coming to the train he's come to see breaching the cytokinetic barrier as a sort of mark of cyberbiological superiority. He'd be quick to say that, say, V's augments are better than his own. His people don't have hardware that goes through the skin; there's only internal or external.

So hearing that his tech is interesting to someone from a reality that must be more technologically advanced than his? That's unexpected.

"Yes, it's an elegant blending. The usual solution where I'm from is simply replacing the organic parts with a robotic one. With varying degrees of grace, and usually in the form of prostheses."

"Oh, well, we have those too," he's quick to say, waving one hand. "Most folks where I come from only go hitek like this if they have to-- to correct a medical issue or leaven a disability, to accommodate a prosthetic, something like that. I only got approved for an implant as extensive as this one because I went into the military and needed it to operate the rest of my hardware."

"I see," she replied.

"Well, in return - my skin, nerve endings and hair are all normally organic. Grown especially for me through cloning techniques. My organs are synthetic, but fully functional. More durable, but functional. My musculature is enhanced and layered over a durasteel skeleton, of a quality used for starship armor plating."

She paused for a moment.

"Oh, and there is the AA-1 verbobrain, highly modified. Possibly the most advanced robotic brain in my galaxy, heavily modified to allow me to function as human, including emotional responses."

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01 - The Jelly Incident

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