PSL

[bindsthedead]

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.

Comments

[youcantkillme]

"Of course you are," Connor mutters, glancing her way. It won't be enough--but one step at a time.

"When, and which lab?"

[313_248_317_60]

Flat loathing locks in Connor's throat, and he glares back... but doesn't argue. Under the circumstances, how could he?

"Once we return to the city." Tension settles in his spine and shoulders, yellow light blinking more rapidly even as the location queues. Connor glances to his owner. "Abhorsen—it's with Jericho."

He's requesting confirmation. (Asking, in the hope that she'll deny it.)

She hadn't wanted to get involved.

[bindsthedead]

"He's not malfuncioning," Sabriel mutters, but she shakes her head.

"I suppose it doesn't matter- you're not going to go there anyway, are you?" If she was able to overrule Craven's orders, that is. If she wasn't... They're going back to the house, where Saraneth is. Perhaps magic can accomplish what carefully worded orders won't.

[313_248_317_60]

He is malfunctioning. Connor knows that—if nothing else, for the brittle ache of relief as his duplicate is overruled. Her reasoning is sparse, but the threat at least comes through clearly: it doesn't matter, because he won't be allowed to leave.

Connor hadn't expected anything different. In some ways, that's almost a relief as well—to know even that much.

For now, his orders are to answer questions. He looks back to the other RK800, waiting for the next prompt.

[youcantkillme]

Connor looks back at him, studying his expression for 2.3 seconds. He's honest now. Connor calls up images from when he was withholding information, and from when whatever he was giving was questionable.

... It's not as much data as he would like, but Connor continues regardless.

"Tell us everything that happened between you two, from the moment we left to the moment of our return."

[313_248_317_60]

There isn't much he hasn't said already. There isn't much to say at all. Connor tells himself that, force-closing processes to dull the spike of loathing as his copy's stare roams over him. [Stress levels: 56%]

He sits as still and as mechanical as he can.

"Craven asked for my serial number. I answered. He told me to fetch the tablet in his bag. I refused." Short and direct. "He suggested talking instead. Then he spent the next eighty-seven seconds complaining about Abhorsen's choices."

Eighty-seven seconds, out of the scant minutes that Abhorsen left the room. And with no way of even knowing she'd be gone that long. What an utter incompetent.

"...He asked if I still took their orders. If I was deviant." Connor stares fixedly ahead. "I told him I wasn't. He told me to retrieve the tablet again. Then he told me to report to a lab in the city."

His hand has found his sleeve again. Connor glances down. Tugs it straight. "Your return prevented further conversation."

[youcantkillme]

Connor studies him in silence after he finishes. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Then:

"I'm concerned that Craven may have had a way of tampering with his code while we were gone. Unless you replaced Cyberlife as a top authority in his hardcoding, we have no guarantee that Craven didn't do something completely different and program to claim nothing happened if pressed."

Connor looks towards her sidelong. "I have ways to verify this directly. With your permission, I'll interface and examine him myself."

[bindsthedead]

"Isn't there a simpler way to do this- Connor, answer honestly- who's the top authority in your hardcoding- Cyberlife, or myself?" Of course, there's no guarantee he'd answer honestly- but from what she saw of Craven, he didn't seem the sort to improvise utterly flawless plans.

"This interface- it's not painful? It won't hurt him?" She remembers what it had looked like when Connor had tried to connect to the other Connor, and ended up losing his body. It hadn't looked painless then.

[313_248_317_60]

Interface. Of course. Does it plan on crawling through his code, or just the memories? Abhorsen wouldn't know the difference. Connor stares ahead, blank expression lit by the solid yellow of his LED.

"Cyberlife retains priority with all its products. Regardless of... transfers."

Transfers. Changes. What she'd done.

[youcantkillme]

Connor looks at her, holding back the impulse to remind her that non-deviants don't experience pain. Even if he were willing to help establish androids as beings with low-consequences for destruction, this isn't a tangent that's worth exploring. Connor needs information, for his safety and hers, and this is more important than whatever level of hypothetical discomfort the other android might temporarily experience.

"It won't hurt him," Connor says out loud. "It's just an interface."

[bindsthedead]

Sabriel's uncertainty and unhappiness is written all over her face as she keeps looking guiltily at Connor.

"I suppose I could- use Saraneth to try to override Cyberlife's code, and set myself as the top authority in his hardcoding?" Except she's not sure if she can, or how the bells will interact with an android's programming. And Connor had seemed- almost afraid of the bells before. Was it fair to use them if there was another way to do things?

But she couldn't let him go back to Cyberlife. And killing him wasn't something she was willing to consider.

[313_248_317_60]

Override. Reprogramming. It's the option he's been half-anticipating since they walked out of the hospital. Since she reacted to the fact of his malfunctions with anything but a plan to decommission him.

He knew it was coming. Knew Abhorsen would be too fucking sentimental to take the simpler route. (Knew she was lying, days before—"they're an Abhorsen's weapon against the dead, not androids.")

Connor locks his voice and his expression. He doesn't move. He won't react.

His LED still switches: vibrant red.

[youcantkillme]

Saraneth. Is that--hardware? Software? ... Magic?

"Would there be a way to verify your work after you've completed it?" Connor asks slowly. Trusting whatever this human decides isn't his first, second, or third preferred choice, but she is the overall leader of this operation. Besides, if she can check (somehow) with confidence? ... He'd want to know more.

[bindsthedead]

"If you wish to be reassured, you'll have to examine his code yourself- I didn't realize what I'd done the first time, until Connor explained what I've done and the Cyberlife people in the room realized I could give him orders."

Verifying it is yet another complication- and one that will probably make Connor even more miserable. And probably unnecessarily to.

"But Connor- you can just tell us if it worked or not? You didn't lie about Cyberlife having priority, I think I can trust you to be honest about this too."

[313_248_317_60]

Don't move. Don't react. Don't think, if he can help it. The tasks occupy enough of Connor's focus that it takes a moment to realize Abhorsen is addressing him. He plays back the audio. Processes the words.

...He processes the words again.

She's... asking him to verify he can be trusted? Or... no. She's assuming it—and him to supply feedback on her bells' effect. Hysterical amusement crawls into his queue, and Connor tamps down furiously on the urge to laugh. Or sneer.

"...of course."

If they work as expected, he'll have no choice at all.

[youcantkillme]

Connor follows her gaze, then looks back at her, pressing his lips together briefly.

"I really don't think we should rely on him as an honest source about the state of his programming until we've verified we can trust it." He lifts one hand, deactivating his skin to show bare exoskeleton. "I'll examine him myself. It won't take more than a few seconds."

She can't be serious. Trusting either of them was dangerous for her, but trusting the other android now, like this, was objectively worse.

[bindsthedead]

As much as Sabriel wants to trust Connor- she knows the other one has a point. She can practically hear Mogget hissing at her to stop being stupid.

"As long as you don't hurt him." It's- frustrating. It feels as if she has no good options, no way to set things right in a way that's fair to Connor without putting the mission at risk, and Sabriel's fingers are drumming rapidly against the seat.

But she needs to deal with things as they are now, not how she wishes they were. And the other Connor has a point- she can't trust Connor to be honest right now. And making a show of good faith won't help if Cyberlife gave him orders to lie to her.

[313_248_317_60]

Connor's eyes linger on the deviant's hand before he glances back to Abhorsen. He makes no move to reciprocate.

"What access am I required to give it?"

[bindsthedead]

"Your memories of the time you were alone with Craven, and any changes he made to you during that time." She shoots a quick glance at the other Connor.

"Let me know if he tries to do more than that." She doubts he will, but- it's clear that she's extended her trust to easily before.

[313_248_317_60]

Craven hadn't made any changes. Which means it's just the memory. Connor nods, instructions logging at the edge of his vision, and partitions off the files.

That done, he reaches out a hand, skin baring to show exoskeleton. His LED flickers, yellow bleeding through the red, as the data readies for transfer.

[youcantkillme]

"I should also look at his current mission-related queues."

Connor steps within arm's reach, but he doesn't extend his own hand. Not yet. This conversation has shifted like eddies of wind since it began, and he's not sure how far he can push, but--if she's reasonable, she'll agree.

Connor meets the other android's eyes steadily.

[bindsthedead]

"That sounds reasonable," Sabriel says, nodding her head in assent. Apparently, he wants to see if Craven gave any orders- or if Cyberlife's given Connor orders by other means.

Sabriel hopes he's wrong about that, but she can't really blame him for being careful.

[youcantkillme]

She's agreed. That means the RK800 is required to comply.

Connor reaches forward, clasping it over its forearm's sleeve. The milimeters of fabric aren't enough to interfere with the interface, and Connor--

--Connor starts through the interface protocols with no communication, not even a polite glance or a greeting. If Connor were asking for the android's assistance, then he would prompt him to offer up information on his own. Instead Connor sends commands to open the appropriate files directly, skipping the time he would waste navigating system directories.

It's not a clean process. Even before the memory itself surfaces, Connor is receiving stray bits of code that don't have a clear purpose. They're distracting, and if it weren't for the fact that they seem just as detrimental to the memory's host as himself, he would take it as a deliberate move to interfere. But--

--but the code isn't deliberate. The code is filled with a caustic boiling in his gut, a heatless fire in his lungs that can't be breathed out. It's filled with a sickening ice that threatens to weaken his joints despite there being no damage, and--not a single one of it is Connor's.

Connor isn't the structure swaying under the storm of his emotions. The other android is, caught up in enough stress and system instability that it's a distraction of its own.

Connor shakes himself internally, turning back to the memory with the correct time stamp.

'Give me your serial number...'

Outwardly, Connor's face has settled into a frown of concentration, with his eyelids flickering. Inwardly he's pushing his own fear and suspicion and violent need to survive into a shape that's supposed to help him, keeping him focused. Craven acts the way Connor expects him to. The RK800--

--endures. It's--he's--at the human's mercy, and Connor doesn't miss the way his instability and emotions spike. Connor feels--

--Complicated. Now isn't the time to explore it.

The memory finishes. Connor spares a glance around as his own memory finishes saving, but he doesn't linger, jumping directly again to his task queues.

>313-248-317-60: Display [Current Mission].
>>> Apprehend [Necromancer].
>313-248-317-60: Display Standing Orders.
>>> Don't talk ask about what happened at [Wyverly College]
>>> Don't talk about [Abhorsen's Family]
>>> Don't talk about "what it means to be Abhorsen"
>>> Tell [Abhorsen] if [313-248-317-60] takes new damage
>>> Don't threaten [Deviants] or start fights
>>>>>>Note: paired with 'Defend self if [Deviants] threaten [313-248-317-60]
>>> Report to Cyberlife.
>>> Disregard previous order.
>>>>>> WARNING: Conflciting orders...

Connor pauses, lips thinning.

>>> Answer [313-248-317-53's] questions
>>>Allow [313-248-317-53] to examine stated memory logs and task queues
>>>Tell [Abhorsen] if [313-248-317-53] deviates from stated goals

...It's thorough. There's no signs of tampering or connections to hidden lists that would suggest more sinister goals.

Connor scrutinizes it for a second or two more before withdrawing completely, letting go digitally and physically.

[313_248_317_60]

Of course it pushes for more access. Of course. His eyes narrow, lips parting to demand it narrow down its inquiry... when Abhorsen cuts in with unilateral agreement. Connor closes his mouth and stills: as a hand latches on around his wrist for the second time inside an hour.

[Allow RK800 #313 248 317-53 access]

He doesn't need to grant permission. The other unit doesn't ask it. Its probe cuts in, his systems answer, and Connor waits, empty and mechanical, as his mind unfurls for review. Its attention is a sharp, quick lens, honing in on every detail. Grasping and prying, trailing sharp flickers of mistrust behind it. Echoes of its impulse to survive.

Connor hates it. He wants to rip it from his memories. Tear in, break it to pieces—break both of them from the inside out. He will, if it tries anything. He won't be the only one it ruins.

It doesn't try. He doesn't fight. The shift of attention passes slowly through every item in his queue before at last withdrawing. Connor patches his security back into place. Jerks his arm back. Synthetic skin returns to cover it, and he stares flatly at his predecessor before shifting his gaze to the seat ahead.

Abhorsen is waiting for its assessment. Connor wonders, distantly, if it intends to lie.

At this point, he doubts it will make a difference.

[youcantkillme]

Connor's own skin smooths back over his exoskeleton, and his LED switches from a steady yellow cycle to a yellow that's blinking like tiny, ongoing fireworks. Across from him, the RK800's has switched back to red.

"... Craven's order to report to Cyberlife is still there. So is the conflicting order to ignore this." He glances towards her. "There appear to be no other tasks except ones you've assigned."