Connor (RK800, 313 248 317 -52) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cyberlifeslastchance) wrote2018-10-10 12:44 am
cyberlifeslastchance) wrote2018-10-10 12:44 am
For "Super_Seal" - set in Ohana DW RPG
One minute, no one stood on that particular patch of beach - the next, someone did. Slim and six-foot-zero, what appeared to be a Caucasian human male in his late twenties stopped mid-stride and looked around. He had brown eyes and brown hair perfectly swept back in a close cut except for one small lock over his left temple that seemingly refused to be tamed. Embedded in the flesh of his right temple was a glowing ring, an LED that was yellow and spinning. Confusion could be seen in the man's dark eyes as he looked this way and that, taking in his new, sudden surroundings.
Perhaps the most striking about him was his manner of dress, crisp and business-like - white dress shirt, black tie, dark jeans, black dress shoes, all secondary to a well-fitted, semi-formal jacket. High across the backs of the young man's shoulders - in bold, light grey lettering - was the word "ANDROID." Below that was a large, upright triangle of that glowed a bright blue, and below that, a thin blue line of trim and "RK800" in white, both also glowing softly. On the left front breast, the man bore another, smaller triangle in the same, softly glowing bright blue, and on the right, in prominent reflective white characters "RK800" was repeated, with a series of digits embroidered in white beneath that - "313 248 317 -52". The triangles and lettering were all dynamic display surfaces formed from tiny LEDs embedded in the fabric. There was an armband of LEDs around the man's right upper arm in the same glowing blue as the triangles he bore. The armband and the triangle on the left breast might or might not put one in mind of the discriminatory yellow star and armband that German Jews were forced to wear in the days leading up to WWII.
The android, designation "Connor," stood frozen for a long moment, looking around as he attempted to process the sudden change of . . . of everything - of scenery, of time of day, of temperature and humidity and barometric levels, of apparent dress code. Blinking, he attempted to calculate his position on the globe based on position and intensity of the sun - it seemed to be noon or so, where it had been nearing early evening a moment ago! - but he simply lacked enough data to make that determination. Perhaps he was glitching? He quickly ran a self-diagnostic but could find no faults in his biocomponents or his programming. A frown crossed his face as his logic protocols warred with what was right in front of him. The LED in his temple flickered red for an instant before resettling to yellow, still spinning anxiously.
Well, he'd learn little by just standing there. Time to find people to interview regarding what had just happened to him.
Perhaps the most striking about him was his manner of dress, crisp and business-like - white dress shirt, black tie, dark jeans, black dress shoes, all secondary to a well-fitted, semi-formal jacket. High across the backs of the young man's shoulders - in bold, light grey lettering - was the word "ANDROID." Below that was a large, upright triangle of that glowed a bright blue, and below that, a thin blue line of trim and "RK800" in white, both also glowing softly. On the left front breast, the man bore another, smaller triangle in the same, softly glowing bright blue, and on the right, in prominent reflective white characters "RK800" was repeated, with a series of digits embroidered in white beneath that - "313 248 317 -52". The triangles and lettering were all dynamic display surfaces formed from tiny LEDs embedded in the fabric. There was an armband of LEDs around the man's right upper arm in the same glowing blue as the triangles he bore. The armband and the triangle on the left breast might or might not put one in mind of the discriminatory yellow star and armband that German Jews were forced to wear in the days leading up to WWII.
The android, designation "Connor," stood frozen for a long moment, looking around as he attempted to process the sudden change of . . . of everything - of scenery, of time of day, of temperature and humidity and barometric levels, of apparent dress code. Blinking, he attempted to calculate his position on the globe based on position and intensity of the sun - it seemed to be noon or so, where it had been nearing early evening a moment ago! - but he simply lacked enough data to make that determination. Perhaps he was glitching? He quickly ran a self-diagnostic but could find no faults in his biocomponents or his programming. A frown crossed his face as his logic protocols warred with what was right in front of him. The LED in his temple flickered red for an instant before resettling to yellow, still spinning anxiously.
Well, he'd learn little by just standing there. Time to find people to interview regarding what had just happened to him.
no subject
"I'm...from the future, since just in interactions alone, that will probably slip anyway. My LED is...part of a brain implant that...allows me to access digital information." He looked up at Steve, the question clear in his eyes - will that work? "I am able to tap into any machine or signal system wirelessly, so long as it's capable of wireless contact. As for what to do with me . . . you said you work with a task force here on the islands? Allowing me to follow you at work would be a good use of my capabilities. Again, I was designed to serve law enforcement as a detective. The rest of the time, you don't need to worry about me. I can just stay at the office. I do not sleep so I can continue work if that would be of help."
no subject
"How much do you know about the past? I'm wondering mostly about things people can wager on - making the information you have very valuable." He expected Connor would understand how humans would try to exploit him or become threatening if they thought they could make money with the information he had.
Crossing his arms, Steve leaned back against his desk in a casual and relaxed position as they started to work out the details. "I doubt my older self will have any issue with me taking you on as my partner, so that shouldn't be a problem. You staying here at night to work however will be. Humans sleep. And even those who keep odd hours want time to do their own thing." Biting his lip, Steve thought about this further. "Also, if you're going to live as a human, you need to appear to behave as one." Steve's fingers tapped on his arms while he thought things over. Until Connor was settled into his new life and role, he didn't want him in the housing complex. Too many variables and too many things could go wrong - far too easily and quickly. He needed a more controllable environment with few people. At the same time, this wasn't completely up to him. He was here to guide and support, not be in full command.
"Normally we set up those who arrive here in an apartment complex. I'm a bit leery of doing that in your situation. At least right away." Thinking another moment he then nodded. "I'd like to offer that you come live with me. It's not fully ideal, my sister and a female friend already reside at the house, but I have an unfinished garage right off the house. It wouldn't take much to turn it into a proper room and that could be yours. You'd have access to the internet, and we could move a TV in there along with anything else you'd like."
no subject
"As for the past, do you mean things like professional sports?" He shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. I would think the upcoming android quarterback model will be programmed with such things as knowledge of past football games and their related statistics, for example, but that kind of data was not information deemed pertinent to load into the memory banks of an investigative model."
He listened attentively as Steve went on to remind him to think like a human, at least in terms of general behaviors, what humans do and don't do as both necessity and recreation. He tilted his head a bit, though, at one comment. "Not fully ideal. Meaning bringing a male stranger into your home with your sister and friend? I can assure you that they are safe in that regard. I lack both the physical equipment and the emotional drive to assault a woman, and should any man try, I will defend them. You have my word."
no subject
Steve raised an eyebrow at the idea of an 'upcoming android quarterback model'. Sports must be considerably different in the future. He couldn't imagine the fans allowing that much of a change here. But, that was moving off topic and Connor had answered his question. "Good. That will help matters when people find out your from the future. Not everyone is into sports so..." Steve shrugged as if he didn't understand why that was.
Frowning slightly he shook his head. "That's not..." He paused and then nodded. "Okay, that's very good to know and I greatly appreciate hearing that you would defend my sister and friend. I do have a threat against them and having another person at the house to help me keep them safe will actually be a comfort." At least for Steve, Mary might not agree. "But, that's not what I meant to insinuate. I meant that unless you are alone, you'll need to keep up the charade in their presence. A more ideal situation would be one that allowed you to be who you are. I'm sorry that you have to keep that hidden."
no subject
The "okay, don't hack" with a chuckle made Connor grin again. It felt good that Steve seemed so comfortable with him. It reminded him of how comfortable he and Hank had grown . . . which in turn made him think about how it was that he felt 'good' or really anything at all.
"You showed empathy, Connor. Empathy is a human emotion."
Another thing he felt was . . . embarrassment? Something, he wasn't sure what - at taking Steve's meaning wrong. And then something else at "I do have a threat against them." Connor nodded, all business now. "It's all right. I'll do whatever you feel I need to, and I'll do my best to keep up the pretense that I'm human." He paused a beat before pursuing the lead Steve had hinted at. "What is this threat you mentioned?"
no subject
Biting his lower lip, Steve dropped his gaze a moment before speaking to the floor. "As I mentioned before, this isn't my reality either. In both mine and this reality there's a man named Wo Fat who had a grudge against my family. He influenced the death of my mother, and ordered the murder of my father. In both timelines he had my younger sister Mary kidnapped when she started looking into my mother's death." Steve paused to lick his lips and his voice got a bit lower, more tense like he was controlling any emotion from escaping. "In this reality, Steve rescued his sister. In mine..." His voice trailed off and a pained look quickly crossed his features. "In this reality, Steve killed Wo Fat about 4 years back when Wo Fat kidnapped him for information. In mine I was taken a few months after Mary's disappearance."
Another deep inhale and Steve looked up at Connor. He was skipping over details, but they weren't important to this particular story. "The Wo Fat my my reality though is here. He seems... More focused on me here than from what Steve describes happened in this timeline. He's attacked and stalked Mary, the teenage version of my sister who lives with me, a couple of times and he seen me dancing with Mollie at a party and he's gone after her too. The house is well fortified and has alarms. Steve also lives next door. Both Mollie and Mary have a protection detail on them when they leave the house as well but..." Wo Fat was a psycho. At any moment he could attack.
no subject
His brow furrowed as Steve shifted gears, expression darkening the more the story unfolded. By the end, his gaze was hard, face an expressionless mask, hinting at the cold, efficient machine Connor was capable of being. He now had, after all, the two things he needed to operate - a partner . . . and a mission.
"If he's still out there, he needs to be tracked down and brought to justice. Just give the word, Commander, and I'll get to work."
no subject
At Connor's response, Steve looked to his face, a bit surprised at the conviction he heard, and saw, there. Wo Fat's actions had impacted and upset many, but Steve hadn't intended for Connor to take it on as a personal mission. Not that Steve was complaining or would turn away Connor's assistance. Steve desperately wanted to get Wo Fat and would do anything he possibly could to achieve that goal.
"I agree," Steve said with a nod. "The problem is, he has lots of contacts and ways to stay hidden and under the radar. He's well trained and for a long time was head of the Yakuza. I'm fairly sure they're still financing and helping him." With a short pause he offered Connor a weak smile. "I won't turn down any assistance you can provide with finding him. Just, be careful. Wo Fat is a mastermind of finding ways to get to people and making them suffer. I don't want you to get caught in his games." Who knows what he'd do to Connor if he found out the truth about him.
no subject
He nodded again at the rest. "I was programmed to hunt deviants. Specifically deviant androids, but ultimately deviants and criminals of all kinds. His money and his contacts will only get him so far. If he uses any kind of online or signal-based forms of communication to coordinate with his cohorts and backers, I should be able to track down a lead."
He let his expression soften, understanding that Steve was worried for him. "For what it's worth, androids don't feel pain and cannot be forced to talk short of a memory probe. I'll be okay."
"...androids don't feel pain..." That was, in reality, only mostly true. Connor possessed the memories of the RK800 unit before him. When his predecessor has been shot across the outside of its arm, he knew it had registered the damage but had felt no pain. As was expected. But when he'd been jumped by the deviant in the abandoned apartment under Urban Farms, it had managed to jar him enough to actually disorient him for an instant. The dents and abrasions he got from fighting the Tracis behind Eden Club had registered for sure. Getting shot on the rooftop of the Stratford Tower, though? He didn't know how else to describe it - that had hurt.
Still . . . he was an android, the most advanced prototype CyberLife had ever created. He had failed his last mission. He wouldn't fail this one.