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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Half consciously, Sabriel's reaches for Saraneth, her fingers drumming on the handle.

"If those protocols were designed as well as the ones he has for social integration, I don't think I have anything to worry about." Sabriel's tone is bone dry.

"Besides, couldn't I say the same thing about you? But Connor," Sabriel says, suddenly shifting focus, her tone growing sharp again, "That's not a good enough reason."

He was irrational about deviants. Was he irrational about Cyberlife too? Was he predisposed to see them favorably, just as he always saw the worst in deviants?

"I'm not a child who needs to be coddled. If you think things might not be as they seem, you need to tell me. Not cover it up until someone else drags it into the open. Why do you think Cyberlife isn't involved, even if they had access to the security footage?"

His eyes track the reach. Linger on the bell. For just the briefest, barest instant, the yellow swirl of his LED interrupts with a single flicker of bright red.

She's addressing him. (Insulting him, Connor realizes—too belated and too numbly for offense.) He drags his stare back to her face, mouth pressing together. She's not a child, but she is irrational. Idiotic, in more than one regard, and definitely in need of curbing. If she could be trusted to make the decisions she should, this conversation would never have happened.

(The deviant would never have survived.)

...That's not an argument he'll win. He turns his focus to her question.

"Cyberlife needs stable solutions. Our target is a destabilizing presence, with nothing to offer they can't already accomplish with technological means." Resets. Reactivation. He maintains eye contact with Abhorsen, voice steady. "And Cyberlife gave me to you."

A hand rises, tapping at his chest. "I'm programmed to obey you. You know that."

"... If Cyberlife could reverse deviancy on its own, it would have." (He's not going to dignify her 'you're manipulative too's with a response.) Instead he sends a narrow look at his counterpart, too wary to be pitying. "The Necromancer's publicly announced solutions seem permanent. This is exactly what Cyberlife wants."

More quietly, but with no less focus: "Are you really programmed for that, or are you just coded to convince her you are? Because there is a difference... and your actions don't match up."

"Except he's not reversing deviancy- he's shoving Dead spirits into corpses." Sabriel says, still drumming her fingers on Saraneth's handle "I know Ancelstierrians can be stupid when it comes to the supernatural, but even if he tells the the Dead not to eat any humans humans, I'm sure Cyberlife will realize there's a difference between androids and those things. Particularly if they get their hands on one and try to understand how he did it." And of course they'd be curious enough to do that- and probably keep on trying to understand how he did it, if they really were looking for a cure for deviancy.

"And Connor's followed all my orders, even the ones he argued were ill advised- like working with you. The only things he's irrational about are deviants- and apparently, Cyberlife." But was that a result of just what Cyberlife had put into his head as his previous owner, or something more sinister?

His actions? His actions? Lips part, teeth clenching as he rounds on the defect. "You would know, wouldn't you?"

It hadn't hesitated to deactivate its kind. It had lied for Cyberlife nearly as well as it lied to them. His predecessor had played the part of dutiful obedience, just long enough to find the perfect moment to turn coat. Just like it had played up to Anderson's neuroses. Now Abhorsen's. And this—reject, this pathetic, lying disappointment, wanted to accuse him of deviating from his task?

Abhorsen speaks up to defend him. It doesn't help. He turns back to her, spine stiff, expression flattening.

"I'm not—" irrational. He chokes it off. "I'm obedient." This time, he can't stop himself from glancing back to the bell. To her hand, tapping consideringly on the wood handle. "You know it's true."

Connor glances to Abhorsen, giving the bell the first good look he's taken since she reached for it. The handle (mahogany) and silvery dome (a tin-based alloy) both have self-lit marks drifting over their surface, forming signs he's never seen before. Even without the other android's reactions, the instrument is clearly magical. He doesn't know its purpose.

... He's already cast this conversation out into deeper waters. Perhaps it's time to reel it in, to tighten some sense of control over it.

Connor would straighten his shirt if he was wearing one. He makes do by smoothing a hand lightly over his hair, resettling it. "If he's obedient, it's because his mission hasn't overtly clashed with yours yet. Just because it's looked like he's been helping you doesn't guarantee that he has been." His arm settles by his side again, and his posture is picture perfect.

"... All I'm asking is that you reevaluate if engaging in a situation that's clearly an ambush will really further your plans the way you think it will. If that's your decision... I won't argue."

Edited 2019-10-03 03:09 (UTC)

Sabriel stays silent, trying to arrange her thoughts. The android's claims about Cyberlife are troubling, but she can't bring herself to think Connor's knowingly betrayed her, or worked against her interests. But the other android clearly thought Cyberlife had some involvement, and Connor was... being irrational. The same way he was about deviants. But even if she doubts Connor has set her up for an ambush, she needs to make sure Cyberlife isn't offering any aid to the necromancer, or has any information that might be useful.

"I know." Sabriel tells Connor, her hands dropping to her sides, away from the bells, "Even when you've thought my plans were ill thought out, you obeyed them- you've never tried to sabotage me, even when it would be easy. I'm not happy that you lied to me, but I trust that you won't do it again."

"As for you," Sabriel says, "I think your distrust of Connor is misguided- It's clear you two met each other in the past and it didn't go well, but I need you to set that aside, unless either one of you care to explain exactly what happened. As for Cyberlife..." she frowns.

"The meeting is tomorrow night. We should have plenty of time to track down and speak to one of the people on that list of yours- if what you say is true, I should be able to get answers out of them. And if it turns out you've been lying to me, I'd see that as sabotage."

Again, the deviant makes its pitch. Abhorsen hesitates and turns... and then, brushes it aside. Her hand lowers. Lowers, and Connor stares, the agitated yellow spin of his LED slowly bleeding back to blue. There's something knotted in his core—pressure, sharp and confining—that slowly, impossibly, begins to let up.

He hadn't expected her to listen.

Possibly, she shouldn't have. He bows his head in silent acknowledgement: implied agreement that he knows already won't hold true. He'll do whatever is necessary to accomplish his mission, and one rare instant of sound judgement doesn't make this human reliable enough to trust in all regards. Certainly, he doesn't care to explain further. He stays quiet as she addresses the deviant, though the conclusion draws his gaze back up with interest.

Coming from Abhorsen, the threat isn't anything like certain—she's far too soft on deviants in general, much less one she actually likes. But it tried to have him deactivated.

It would be fitting, wouldn't it? If its lies ended up the other way.

Connor doesn't seem surprised by the threat. In fact, he says: "I understand." He'd already known disagreeing with a human and her favorite source of information wasn't safe. "Tomorrow you'll see for yourself that I wasn't lying." And if she decided he must have been, all facts be damned...

... Well, it's not as though his counterpart hadn't been out to kill him, once. Connor was sure to have better luck avoiding him if he kept clear of both of them. Until then--they were both on the same side. Both Connors were standing half-clothed in a stranger's kitchen, and Sabriel was obviously fatigued.

The next steps were obvious, but Connor deliberately said nothing, waiting for her to give the orders he was expecting to follow regardless.

Sabriel sighs, and pinches her nose slightly. She's tired, they're being ridiculous, and she ends up using the tone of voice she used as a prefect without really meaning to.

"Tomorrow. But right now- I need to sleep, even if you two don't. If there's anything you can do while I'm asleep that you think will help- you have my permission to do it, as long as it doesn't risk setting the army after you. And don't kill each other." It was almost like dealing with squabbling, immature underclassmen, except for this time it was highly advanced, gun toting androids instead of unarmed schoolgirls.

"Why do you hate each other so much? It's not just because one of you is deviant and the other isn't- so why?" It's not a request this time. She doubts it's something easy to fix like fights between students at school- but if nothing else, she'll at least know what to avoid, instead of wandering blindly into conversational minefields.

Seeing as he hasn't spoken, Connor assumes the exasperation is directed at the deviant. He takes the expanded permissions into account... and represses an eyeroll at the stressed instruction. He hasn't tried to kill his predecessor since the last time she told him to.

The same doesn't apply both ways.

"I don't hate." It's a stiff, sharp retort. "And it's defective."

One way or another, that's the root of the problem.

'It doesn't hate?' Connor scoffs silently. For all that it's not deviant, the proto-deviant is experiencing all sorts of proto-emotions, and one of them has been showing up as hate all along. Denial doesn't change that.

Instead of addressing it, Connor looks to her and says, "I'm deviant." A beat. "To our model series, that's enough." To their model series as they were later modified into being. To their model series as Cyberlife realized they needed to be.

"I see," Sabriel keeps her voice deliberately neutral as she speaks. "To Connor, having feelings is a flaw." And considering what she's seen of him, it's a rather hypocritical view- he clearly has feelings, including hatred. But this seemed... more personal than the disdain he'd expressed for other deviants. Perhaps it was simply that by being the same model, he reminded Connor of how he wasn't an emotionless machine. Or maybe it was something else.

"But... You've met each other, haven't you? Before either of you met me. When was that, and what happened?" Perhaps that would explain why they seemed to hate each other so much.

To Connor? He has to fight to keep from sneering openly at that. To any functioning machine, emotions were a flaw. Even his predecessor understands that much.

He eyes it as Abhorsen digs, half-expecting it to jump in with a self-satisfied recounting. It doesn't. His stare drifts a little to the side.

"November eleventh. And what do you think?"

His voice is flat. Nearly toneless. His LED swirls dull yellow. November eleventh. Five days ago. When the deviants had moved from violent riots to an open war. When this deviant had bolstered their efforts with an army. And just two days before Abhorsen found him in the labs.

"I failed my mission."

One hand reaches across his body, tugging a sleeve straight. If the deviant wants to fill in the details... he'll let it. Abhorsen already knows the end.

Edited 2019-10-07 00:32 (UTC)

Connor doesn't answer immediately. He's building a list of different ways to reply, sorting through to find the best one--when the other android answers in his place.

Connor glances towards him, deconstructing his tone and expression. He failed his life's mission, and instead of moving on and building from it, like Connor did when his own existence fell apart, he remained caught in the gears laid out for him. Even to a point of chasing his senseless dream after all victory in it was gone--

--Connor's lips thin, before he gives her a tight, simple smile.

"He was supposed to destroy me before I could accomplish my own mission," he elaborated calmly. "Instead his plan fell apart. The human he kidnapped shot him. I continued on, and succeeded in successfully deviating Cyberlife's main warehouses."

Sabriel frowns slightly, comparing both of their responses. This explains their hatred, and a few other things, like why Cyberlife was in so much chaos when she visited.

"I think I understand- you deviated, Cyberlife sent him to kill you- although I don't understand how kidnapping a human would help him do that- and then he died trying." Which probably explains why Cyberlife had been willing to part with him for nothing more than a promise- to them, they were giving her a failed prototype. Clearly, they had underestimated his value.

"Of course, he did succeed in killing you eventually. But Cyberlife is not his owner anymore, and that's no longer his mission. You're not enemies, and acting like you are is counterproductive."

Sabriel gives them a look that's split between exasperation and pleading.

"The only thing I want is to stop the necromancer and make sure no one else can do what he's attempting. I'm not asking you to be friends, I just want to do my job as Abhorsen, so Connor and I can get back to the Old Kingdom as soon as possible. Once we're done, you'll never have to see each other again."

Edited 2019-10-07 01:28 (UTC)

"... You don't have to worry, Abhorsen," Connor says stiffly, any hint of a smile (mocking or otherwise) vanished as she'd talked. "I'm... willing to put our differences aside for this mission if he is."

Connor's eyes slide to him, and the ironic pinch to his lip gives way to a fact that only someone astoundingly naive would miss: Connor is offended by her implications, but this isn't a simple situation, and simply making words about improving isn't going to be good enough to move past the conflict beneath.

Connor's eyes drift across the kitchen counters. He doesn't need to look to hear the deviant's smirk, or to log Abhorsen's answer. Cyberlife isn't his owner. Killing deviants isn't his mission. He hasn't tried in days—especially around her. He's not sure why he's included in the lecture.

...She does still plan to keep him. What for, Connor is less certain of, and his eyes flicker back to the other RK800 in time to watch it lie. His own lips twitch, then flatten: expression bland and obedient as he returns the gesture.

"Of course."

His LED is blue again. He looks back to Abhorsen. "Is there anything else?"

"Not for now."

Sabriel nods in acknowledgement, even if she doesn't fully believe they'll put whatever happened behind them.

It will have to be enough- it's late, and repeatedly casting spells hasn't made her any less sleepy, she realizes as she fights back a yawn.

"I'm going to bed," She tells them, "We'll talk in the morning."

And with that, Sabriel goes upstairs- to what's probably the guest room, setting her sword and bells in easy reach of the bed out of habit, before stripping off her armor and shoes- she'd have to sleep in her clothes, since she'd left everything she couldn't fit into the guitar case at the hotel- and if the army or police haven't been there yet, they will soon, she realizes as she pulls the blankets over herself and shuts her eyes.

Abhorsen leaves soon, sent off by Connor's nod and attentive attention. When she vanishes around a corner, Connor turns to his counterpart briefly, meeting his eyes. The android hasn't moved.

Connor lets his eyes fall to the ruined shirt and coat he'd taken off during the healing. There would be no salvaging them. There might be viable replacements further in the house.

Connor turns to the door, and if he isn't stopped, he'll leave the room in his search.

Connor waits as Abhorsen leaves, tracking the footsteps heading up the stairs. He'd wait longer—let her fall properly asleep before he talks—but his predecessor is moving. Connor can't be sure it plans to stay inside the house.

"The 'information' you offered," he interjects before it can exit. If the deviant turns back, it will find Connor's stare locked on it, cold and appraising. "At the storage facility."

"Was that it?"

Lies about Cyberlife. Lies about him. A useless bargaining chip, especially if Abhorsen hadn't come into the picture. But then, Connor had never really believed it meant to deal honestly with him.

Edited 2019-10-10 03:46 (UTC)

Connor does turn, stopped a few feet short of the door.

"Our agreement was that I would provide a lead to track down the necromancer that wasn't included in the data you'd stolen," Connor points out. His eyebrow arches, and he moves to face him more squarely. "Seeing as I additionally promised Abhorsen certain details, I can transmit them to you for your own review."

Connor's LED flares yellow.

>RK800-313-248-317-53: Sending folder c82lkslllnhs.ecr...

His LED flickers yellow in turn: file received and downloaded. After a careful scan, Connor extracts the contents, stare distancing as he inspects them.

GPS records for Craven, Humboldt, Cook, and Wendell. The data confirmed their presence in the city after the evacuation and registered at least one instance of close proximity on November 12th. Hardly significant; any Cyberlife officials remaining in the city after the deviants attacked had plenty of reason to meet.

Records of financial transfers from an offshore account—lining the pockets of two Army commanders and the police comissioner. Closer examination confirmed Cook as the operator of the account, but the reason for the bribe remained unclear. Equally inconclusive.

Records of a phone call between Humboldt and Wendell. Connor fast-forwards, skimming perfunctorily through the humans' complaints and commiseration. Humboldt is all but spitting in frustration: about the deviants, about the losses Cyberlife experienced, about the funds and resources being wasted even now on Wendell's bullshit. First the androids, then this magic man—

Connor stops. Replays the message.

...He replays it again.

There are no signs of tampering. The file signature is intact, call logged on Cyberlife software registered in Wendell's name. His duplicate could possibly fake up a match, but—there would be signs. Was it a different sort of falsification? The voices match Wendell and Humboldt's online records, but RK-series models are capable of mimicry. It could have made the call itself on their machine.

...Nevermind that it hasn't been alone since their encounter. Or that it had no reason to fake proof, before. Connor's mouth thins, eyes returning to the deviant.

"Where did you get this?"

It takes the RK a matter of seconds to review the evidence. By the time he finishes, Connor hasn't moved, eyes locked on the android's face.

Whatever he's learned from tracking the android's expressions, Connor isn't showing. His own face is inscrutable, and he cants his head very slightly as he replies. "Cyberlife used ST300 AIs to operate their phone records." And in the chaos, they'd never wondered if those would deviate too. "It was simple to follow the trail from there."

"I see."

If the ST300s were still in position, the deviant would never have identified the source. Assuming, of course, that they weren't a lie in the first place. He tilts his head back, matching his predecessor's blank unreadability.

"You infected them, and they supplied the 'proof' you needed?"

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