bindsthedead

PSL

There was a time when Sabriel might have been eager to see the inside of Cyberlife Tower. Her class had been to Detroit when she was thirteen, and they'd toured an android factory- or the part of it they showed to tourists, at least- and visited museums and art galleries and all the sorts of things Young Ladies ought to see, but weren't available in the small town of Wyverley, or in Bain.

But Sabriel wasn't here for a school trip. Recent events in Ancelstierre meant that with the sudden loss of all android soldiers meant that soldiers from the entirely human garrison at the Wall had been transferred elsewhere- which meant fewer soldiers watching the border, on top of the losses from Kerrigor's attack, and a necromancer had slipped across, making his way to the largest city that was close enough to the Wall that magic still worked- one that seemed rather different than how she remembered it.

But what was occupying most of her attention was the Cyberlife representative in front of her. Sabriel listened politely as the woman spoke about malfunctioning machines and simulated emotions and how things that weren't alive couldn't die, so why would a necromancer- and from the woman's voice it was clear she didn't believe such things were real- want with deactivated androids?

Sabriel stood up and shook the woman's hand, telling her she'd been very helpful without meaning a word of it, and headed out the office before pausing.

She sensed something ominously familiar- Death, and a recent one at that. She turned another corner, following the sensation as a hound tracked a scent, half-expecting someone to spot her, to see her in her armor and bells (security had made her check her sword at the front desk) and tell her she wasn't allowed to be here.

But no one came, and no one living was in the laboratory she went into- just a dead- (deactivated?) android on a table-or its head and torso at least, with panels on its chest removed to reveal tubes and biocomponents, and Sabriel felt she'd stepped into a morgue and found an autopsied body.

Sabriel was seized by a sudden impulse. If androids weren't alive, then she'd simply waste some time, but if they were... well, she'd have a source of information she could interrogate as she would any Dead spirit. And unlike the representative she'd just spoken to, she could force it to answer honestly and completely.

Decision made, Sabriel undid the straps and drew Saraneth from the bandolier. This far from the Wall, stepping into Death took a deliberate effort, but soon Sabriel was in the First precinct and she cast around with her senses, trying to feel out the spirit of the android- if it had one, it couldn't have gone beyond the First Gate, and probably shouldn't be that far into the the First Precinct.

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The danger shifts, and Connor forces himself to take in a deep breath that doesn't actually relax anything. Whether he lives or dies doesn't matter. What matters is the ultimate freedom and safety of his people. What matters is savoring the little instances of rebellion, petty though they are. He's free, and even complete paralysis hasn't changed that.

He doesn't have to answer. His programming doesn't press, doesn't try to mercilessly guide him by the hand towards making the interaction convenient for her, and he says nothing at first, yanking experimentally at his renewed bonds.

No movement. Not a surprise, but not pleasant, either.

There goes gun 1. Gun 2. Gun 3. Voicebox module. He's lost all his weapons and gained an arm injury. His counterpart says nothing, even after regaining the stolen biocomponent. The corner of Connor's mouth curls up, but he doesn't have the triumph to keep it that way for long. He's already won the battles of fighting this android, twice now, but that hasn't helped him win this war.

He can't turn his head, and she's too far behind him for him to see her anyway, but he listens in her direction. She's still there. She's the one he needs to engage with. She's the one in control of his counterpart.

Connor's tone is light, completely out of touch with the focused, tense look in his eyes. "RK800 models never reached production-phase manufacturing. The only entities able to make use of an RK800 at this time are Cyberlife, and the US government."

It's not a 'yes I thought you were with them', because he's no longer sure. It's... a test. Crumbs thrown out, to see what birds will follow.

Sabriel steps forward smoothly, standing next to Connor. her expression harsher than it was before. She casts a glance at the gun Connor's holding, but doesn't tell him to put it away. She doesn't know how this will proceed, and it's possible Connor will need to use it if the spell breaks or things go poorly.

"Cyberlife doesn't employ people like me- or know we exist. And I'm not working for the government either- I'm from the Old Kingdom." If worst comes to worst, she'll just make him forget everything, or let Connor shoot him. If this is all a misunderstanding... Well, maybe she can use this to avoid further misunderstandings with deviants.

"We don't get news about Ancelstierre there, and to be honest, we have our own problems to deal with- I came here because I was tracking down one of them."

She's from the Old Kingdom. This matches her records.

"How did you come in to the possession of an RK800 model?" His eyes flick to the RK800 without actually staying there. "A single unit is worth a fortune, and we were still in testing until the evacuation."

If she'd been working with Cyberlife directly, her paralysis would have gone through his programming to stop him on a software level, or at least required the equipment currently being developed in a few of Cyberlife's sublevels. It doesn't. She really might not be with Cyberlife, and the more he looks, the more he finds isolated clues that all support the same conclusion.

He still has scraps of the other android's memories from the struggle, and though his eyes don't leave her, his LED blinks very quickly as he reviews the snippets of footage. Abhorsen in Cyberlife, Abhorsen with 'Connor'. Abhorsen arguing. Abhorsen and it investigating. Abhorsen....

"I knew the man I was trying to find might have an interest in androids, so I went to Cyberlife to find answers. All I left with was him. I- accidentally turned him back on. Then I explained what the man I was after wanted to do, in terms they could understand, and they transferred ownership to me." Sabriel takes another look back at Sixty, and tries to squash down the guilt. She needs to get through this conversation first. Then she can apologize.

Sabriel's not going to mention that Connor felt like a corpse when she'd found him, or that she'd altered his ownership records with her bells. People were justifiably nervous about necromancy once they knew what it was, and this android saw her as a threat already. Telling him that she could modify android programming, and she didn't know to what extent, would not help matters.

"How much do you know about the Old Kingdom?" She doubted anyone this far south knew much, and if Cyberlife probably hadn't seen any need to program that knowledge into its creations. But if he'd heard any of the stories that she and her classmates had whispered late at night, each trying to scare the others... perhaps he'd understand.

Abhorsen asks. The other Connor answers. She provides it with information in exchange: answers its questions, and sets up prompts so it can ask for more. No effort now to force a reset—and it's funny, isn't it, how much more palatable an ally she seems to consider it than she had him in that position. But then, she'd wanted conversation. If Connor pulled its voice out now, would she listen to a word he said?

Unlikely.

It's playing Abhorsen like a fiddle. She'll release it soon, with all the information it could ask for, having gained nothing at all from the exchange. This isn't Connor's concern. Certainly there isn't anything for him to do about it. His expression is utterly blank, staring at nothing in particular as she recounts the way she came to own him. His LED stays solid yellow, gun up and ready to shoot. If it threatens her... but both of them know better.

It's won already. She'll let it. And he has his orders.

Connor's LED cycles busily, eyes sliding past her: he'd personally destroyed the RK800 unit, he'd seen how damaged it was. The story had to be more complicated than 'she turned him on by accident'. There's not enough information to know why Cyberlife was reassembling him, and how she became involved. This might not even be a productive line of questions to keep pushing.

She asks her question. Connor's eyes refocus on her, and he blinks slowly.

"I know everything contained within the Merriam-Webster dictionary, as well as several geographical, political, and cultural texts, each vetted for historical and scientific accuracy and sensitivity." His LED blinked, and more quietly he continued. "... Primary sources in these subjects have been noted as consisting usually of declassified documents from soldiers standing guard at the Wall. Travel and cultural studies between here and there is--low."

Each book he had saved to memory was written from the perspective of a skeptical academic. If they all formed similar conclusions, then did that mean some of it was likely at least partially accurate?

... 'Superstitious', they all said. Connor's eyes rested briefly on her forehead, and he subtly tested the strength of his bonds. Without a glance to the other android he set a timer for how long it'd taken him to get free, and consequently how long Connor had left of the influence of... 'superstitions.'

Edited 2019-05-23 03:48 (UTC)

Sabriel notes his attention to Connor- have they met? Is he the deviant Connor mentioned when the Cyberlife employees asked about what orders he'd been given? It would explain the grudge at least.

But that answer... it's polite, technical, and in Sabriel's estimation, an admittance that he knew very little at all. Ancelstierrian patrols rarely went more than ten miles past the wall... and while few parts of the Old Kingdom were truly safe, the borderlands were especially dangerous.

"You could just say you don't know much." Sabriel's tone is blunt, but not unkind, "No one in Ancelstierre has much knowledge of the Old Kingdom." Except the soldiers at the Wall, but no one really believes them. Sabriel tilts her head, her expression calculating.

"I'm going to give you some advice," Sabriel tells him, "Which I think you will find useful. But I need you to answer my question first- what did you think we were doing when you approached us?" It's possible Connor has the answer, from when he probed the RK800. If so... well, it will be a chance to see how honest the android is, before she offers a little information.

After all, her work will be a little bit simpler if someone else is also unmaking any grave-dirt bridges that are laid down.

"I thought you were affiliated with Cyberlife, thanks to your android's model and its continued use of its Cyberlife uniform." Connor drops a glance in the android's direction, impersonal and uninterested.

"I also guessed from the questions you asked a damaged android at the county's Solid Waste that you're searching for someone closely associated with the recently taken android bodies, among other incidents."

These are hardly the only facts he'd been assuming, nor are they the only reasons he'd thought some of these statements, but it's a start. Connor lifts his eyebrows slightly, eyes tracking as much as he can to try to predict her next action. She seems attached to her sense of morals, and like she's not planning to hurt him? Humans are naturally fickle, though, and nothing is guaranteed.

"I see. Connor, is this true, and do you know what other incidents he's referring too?" Sabriel turns back to Connor her eyebrows lifting. If he's telling the truth, and androids have become aware of the necromancer... that's going to complicate things. Hopefully, she can convince them she's an ally, or at least not an enemy... but if androids have already become aware of the necromancer's actions, that's going to be hard to cover up- she only knows how to cover up very recent memories.

In the long run, it could be good, if like the soldiers at the Wall, they welcome her help. But if they're fearful, if they decide all magic is the same... that's going to complicate things.

Connor's eyes flick back up at the address. His LED spins with metronomic precision as he checks the summary against the files he'd taken. Static catches behind the first syllable of his reply, clearing almost immediately as his voice recalibrates.

"I͟҉t̶̕'҉͞s̶ ́͢n̨o̵t lying." A beat, mouth flattening before he amends. "Currently." About that.

"The KW brought the theft of the discarded products to its notice. Before that, it had been looking into attacks on deviants from their own kind." Abhorsen can guess the implication. Connor's eyes fix on his duplicate, voice cold and disdainful. "It posited a virus."

"Thank you, Connor. As for your speculation- that's a reasonable guess," Sabriel says, in the tone she'd used to encourage an underclassman struggling with a difficult problem. She purses her lips, considering her next words.

If he was investigating already, trying to alter his memory wouldn't keep him out of their way- and while Sabriel was confident in her ability to alter very recent memories, anything more risked the spell going out of control. But if he was pursuing it anyway... Well, she's not going to send him off to fight the Dead, but she could persuade him to track down the grave-dirt and keep it from being of any use to the Dead.

"Look for dirt where it doesn't belong," Sabriel tells the RK800, her words suddenly forceful and urgent, "And if you find any, get rid of it. And look into the Bain Emergency Drill. Following it could save your people's lives."

Be inside by nightfall. Lock all doors and windows. Deny entry to strangers. Shed light inside and out. Prepare candles and lanterns for when the electricity fails. Wear silver. If caught outdoors, find running water.

Not a foolproof defense against the Dead, but if covered the basics, and didn't mention the supernatural.

The Bain Emergency Drill. His LED bleeds yellow for a moment, and then he has its full contents saved and being digested.

Superstitious. Nonsensical. Connor tugs uselessly at the bonds holding him, and narrows his eyes very slightly, because those two words no longer hold the same weight they had mere minutes ago.

"What does dirt have to do with missing androids and finding a dangerous person of interest?"

She doesn't look like she thinks this is a wild goose chase... but it doesn't sound like advice she's giving him that she thinks will crack his case, either.

"The KW- she told you, didn't they? That they were taking dirt along with corpses." She's not going to call them discarded merchandise. If they were just that, she wouldn't be here, she'd be back in the Old Kingdom, instead of here, dealing with a conflict that had very little to do with her and was distracting people from what was actually important.

"They have a use for both. Those... things, they can't pass over or under running water, unless there's a layer of grave dirt between them and the water," Sabriel frowns at Connor, "I should warn you- going after those things with guns will not end well for you- most injuries don't bother them, and the wounds they inflict- their teeth and hands have been covered in something that rots human flesh and android plastic." Nonsense, of course, but it's a vaguely scientific-sounding explanation for the way wounds inflicted by the Dead go bad. Sabriel regards him solemnly as she continues.

"And they're not sick. What's inside of them... it's not the AI they were made with, it's something else entirely. Who they were before- that's gone." Entirely true- but she doubts he'd believe what the 'something else' was even if she told him- he'll probably assume they've had some other, simpler program loaded into their hardware, one that can't become alive.

Connor's eyes narrow infinitesimally at the use of the word 'corpses', standing out in blaring contrast to the android's own word choice.

She tells him about running water. Dirt. Guns. Superstitions. It's all just...

... He shakes the disbelief off, zeroing in on what she continues on to say.

"They're dead," he says, though it's more a question than a statement. It's half to see if she'll continue to acknowledge the terms alive and dead as applying to androids now that he's actually participating, rather than out of some kind of habit. It's also half to see if she thinks they actually are, so he can store the information and compare it to the facts as his evidence grows.

Sabriel's expression shifts- there's a moment of surprise, and then a look of grim satisfaction.

"Yes. But not dead enough." If he doesn't believe her... his loss. If he does, perhaps androids actually are smarter than humans, "Dealing with such things is my family's duty." It's the reason her father came to Ancelstierre, and why he'd had her raised here- because the Clayr had thought that she'd need to be familiar with this country to do her duty.

"And the governments actions mean he can raise an army of them, if given enough time." Him, and any other necromancer that heads south. Even if one necromancer is dealt with, she needs to convince someone to burn the bodies, or otherwise render them useless. Performing the final rites on each corpse simply isn't an option.

The minds that had once been piloting their android bodies have been extinguished. All that's left now is a glitchy, twisted renmant, some ghost of their original coding.

'Dealing with such things is my family's duty.' Such things, as in... malfunctioning androids? Programming ghosts? This is... odd for someone from the Old Kingdom. Then again, Cyberlife was founded by a precocious sixteen year old. The idea that an educated, motivated adult could decide to specialize in such a field is comparatively tame.

'An army'. She means the rogue agent could try to reanimate the android bodies using whatever was left of their bodies and these echoes of their original programming?

"Many androids were too badly damaged to recover before their bodies were dumped," Connor points out slowly. "... What are the limits to this sort of thing?"

"As long as their limbs are working, he can use them." Processors, circulating thirium... none of that mattered to the Dead. It was part of why cremation and burial at sea were common in the Old Kingdom. Still, at least he's asking practical questions, instead of asking her if such things could really exist, or insisting there was a scientific explanation. If anything, he seemed more accepting of it than Connor.

Being honest about the supernatural was a risk, but in this case, it seemed to be paying off.

'As long as their limbs are working.' As long as the hardware is functional. Therefore, her culprit must be highly skilled at making do with just about any code. Maybe he installs something extra, something that can override the original controls and run an external AI. It would make sense, in its own grotesque way; the man would be able to use countless androids without paying nearly the costs involved in also making bodies.

"I understand."

Except...

"... Why can't they cross running water?"

That's one part that still makes no sense, no matter what angle he looks at it from. He's also not sure how whatever Sabriel can do to paralyze him comes into play.

Edited 2019-05-25 06:24 (UTC)

Sabriel can't help but shoot a puzzled glance at Connor before turning her attention back to the other android. Of all the things to dwell on...

"It's a weakness common to all their kind. The water pulls the spirits out, and only the corpse remains." She doesn't mention where the spirits are pulled too. She's told him enough without mentioning Death. Do androids believe in the afterlife, or souls? Judging by how Connor reacted when she spoke of it, Cyberlife's programmers don't believe in such things, and programmed their creations accordingly.

Connor's eyebrows float up in slow disbelief. The conversation just turned further into the inane, leaving what even the unexplained paralysis could suggest--

--a fragmented memory he'd stolen from the android during the body transfer makes a match with a cursory scan, and he can see glimpses of shadowy, ethereal creatures, too dark to reflect light. The memories aren't long, nothing more than a few clips of vision and scattered sound, but the creatures aren't obviously fake, and they seem to be substantial enough to hurt.

Are those spirits? ... Were they pulled from--androids, or humans, or anything sentient, by running water? Where were their corpses?

None of this counts as a strong answer, and there's still holes in the information itself, but Connor can feel himself shifting as the hold on him fails, and he doesn't need information on these terms long enough to stay and fake imprisonment. He can--

--The paralysis cracks, and Connor drops his arms and steps back immediately, putting distance between them. If he had guns he would draw them, but the RK800 didn't miss any. Instead he focuses on composure, and the influence that confidence might bring him here.

"That was all very interesting," he says smoothly. "I'll be sure to keep it under consideration."

Sabriel's eyes narrow at his expression of disbelief. Forget keeping the supernatural a secret, she could probably get a megaphone and shout it out to the world- and no one would believe it. Her father had told her that Ancelstierrians often refused to believe what was right in front of their face, and that apparently extended to androids. Still, if he was going to deny the supernatural even when it was shoved into his face... no point in pushing it.

"Just one more thing- Connor, do you want your body back?" Connor... hadn't said anything, which was... strange. And Sabriel wasn't even sure if she could compel the RK800 to switch back, or if she could... what, drag both of their spirits into Death and then shove them back into the correct bodies? Sabriel's Charter mark glows faintly as she reaches for the Charter, not entirely sure if she should recast the spell or not.

Edited 2019-05-25 19:51 (UTC)

Connor ignores the sideways glance, keeping his weapon trained on his opponent as the deviant model breaks free. Don't shoot still flickers at the edges of his view, geometric blocks of red undercut only slightly by the newer exception. 'Shoot him if he does anything threatening,' Abhorsen had said. But the deviant isn't armed, and it steps back, not forward, leaving Connor's motor functions just as locked and useless as before.

Abhorsen told it even more than he'd expected. She made her priorities clear. The interest in alliance with the malfunctions... and soliciting his predecessor's cooperation in particular. Because she saw the role it played in their uprising? Or because when the two of them went head to head, he'd failed to subdue it? She hadn't considered the deviant nearly so useful until she'd realized it won.

It doesn't matter. Not how he'd failed (just that he had), not what he thought of her decisions. Whatever discourse she might want to have with the deviants, Connor isn't part of it. He's obedient.

(...irrelevant.)

(His LED flickers: yellow, red, yellow as he tries, just one more time, to squeeze that trigger—)

Connor. His gaze snaps up. And... stalls, brows twitching together in the first expression he's shown since failing to shoot. Does he what? Connor's stare drags back to the deviant, retreating in his body, as foreign sensors helpfully report each minute difference in calibration. The numbness in one shoulder. The weight of the deviant's clothing, heavy and mislaid—like everything about this body, each operation that returns RK800_313_248_317-53 instead of -60. Of course he hates it.

He wants everything back. He wants to have never failed so abysmally at all. He wants another chance to reconnect—not to reclaim his body, but to rip every fragment of its code to pieces, no matter if it does the same to him. Not that Abhorsen seems likely to allow any of those options. Why is she asking him at all? The light at his temple blinks rapidly.

"I'm—a machine."

He knows better.

"As you've told me before," Often whenever she did something he didn't like, "And I'm sure you know better than me what you are. But your original body- do you want it back?"

He's being evasive, which is... strange. She's used to him being unpleasant, and insulting, but not dodging the question like this. Sabriel suspects... well, several things. Connor had been in some kind of altercation with a deviant RK800... one that had ended with him getting shot in the head. Was that why he'd been so hostile to deviants? Because one shot him? No wonder he hated them.

There's a sinking feeling in Sabriel's stomach, but- when the Dead were involved, you had to put all your grudges behind you and focus on helping each other survive.

The blank expressionlessness lapses again—this time, in a near-glare. His eyes twitch back towards Sabriel, but he returns them to the RK800. It's readying to move, and he won't be distracted if it does.

The sharpness in his voice, however, is a good deal less filtered.

"I don't want anything."

"I see."

If he didn't want anything, he wouldn't sound so sharp. He'd have told her that he couldn't care less about which body he was in right away, in a tone that told her she was stupid for asking such a thing. Instead he'd deflected.

So he wanted it back... and she had no idea how to get his body back. Or rather, she had a few, but without the bells, she'd need the RK800's cooperation.

"Please," Sabriel said, keeping her hands up and her fingers splayed- in the Old Kingdom, a gesture that would indicate she wasn't going to attempt to cast any spells, "One more thing- can you give Connor his body back?"

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