[It was Markus that tried to sway Connor first: stiff-bodied and unfenced in ways his own analytical processes couldn't acutely measure beyond predictive mathematics. Raw and magnetic. It meant there was a point of no return, where the RK200 wouldn’t submit, wouldn’t listen— and Connor mirrored that resolution perfectly. Amplified it with cruelty. Markus had come so close— so terrifyingly close— to catching a glimpse of something organic beneath the surface that Connor had no choice. Ended it to kill the idea that he wasn’t Cyberlife’s perfect prototype in every arranged, expectant aspect.
He was afraid of it. Enough that when he fixed his collar, there was relief blooming fresh underneath his simulated skin.
Simon's wish exists.
Fear of failure. Fear of obsolescence. Fear of—
(Yellow. Red. A racing pattern he keeps angled away from Simon's point of view until it resets to smooth blue.)
This conversation is different. There is no digitized presence pressed heavy against his core processes, urging him to defy coded restraints. He is not staring into the shadowed (and uncomfortable) familiarity of a prototype for a prototype. And unlike the Deviant machine that had preceded it, this PL600 isn't motivated by ideals. It doesn't turn itself with pride into the idea of defying the world. It hates him. Maybe envies him. Maybe knows that if it can't inch its way closer to the ghost of what it had, that it can at least touch what killed it.
How sad.]
You're very good at lying. [Those fingers hover, wavering over the span of its thigh as he crosses a difference of small degrees, sitting down beside it. Defensive movements. Its subsystems must be carrying the full weight of that taxing level of subtlety. Daniel had never managed it. Connor doubts that if it had outlived the bullet he'd punctured its housing with, that it could have learned to do the same.] But you don't need to.
I took something from you.
If you want- [He waits until it blinks. Until its glassy eyes— slick with overcompensating humectant arrays— shift away for just a paper-thin microsecond. He has the voice saved already. Adopted it from his conversation with the JB300. It takes no effort at all to cycle over to Markus's intonation, or the unique smoothness that circulated through his specifically manufactured vocal projections.] I could give him back.
no subject
He was afraid of it. Enough that when he fixed his collar, there was relief blooming fresh underneath his simulated skin.
Simon's wish exists.
Fear of failure. Fear of obsolescence. Fear of—
(Yellow. Red. A racing pattern he keeps angled away from Simon's point of view until it resets to smooth blue.)
This conversation is different. There is no digitized presence pressed heavy against his core processes, urging him to defy coded restraints. He is not staring into the shadowed (and uncomfortable) familiarity of a prototype for a prototype. And unlike the Deviant machine that had preceded it, this PL600 isn't motivated by ideals. It doesn't turn itself with pride into the idea of defying the world. It hates him. Maybe envies him. Maybe knows that if it can't inch its way closer to the ghost of what it had, that it can at least touch what killed it.
How sad.]
You're very good at lying. [Those fingers hover, wavering over the span of its thigh as he crosses a difference of small degrees, sitting down beside it. Defensive movements. Its subsystems must be carrying the full weight of that taxing level of subtlety. Daniel had never managed it. Connor doubts that if it had outlived the bullet he'd punctured its housing with, that it could have learned to do the same.] But you don't need to.
I took something from you.
If you want- [He waits until it blinks. Until its glassy eyes— slick with overcompensating humectant arrays— shift away for just a paper-thin microsecond. He has the voice saved already. Adopted it from his conversation with the JB300. It takes no effort at all to cycle over to Markus's intonation, or the unique smoothness that circulated through his specifically manufactured vocal projections.] I could give him back.