missiondeterminant | [Open Post]

[ She gets approval for a garden. Of course, she thought she would. It's something to keep a dangerous new android busy, so it seems to be in everyone's best interests to let her have her flowers. Never mind Amanda has no reason to betray anyone. Trust is hard to come by when you used to be so loyal to CyberLife that you tried to murder the deviant leader when the demonstrations succeeded.

Anyway, Amanda doesn't care what anyone thinks. Gardening is all she knows how to do outside of boss Connor around. She shares the space with anyone who wants to plant their own seeds, but she maintains a patch and a trellis all her own. There are roses, naturally, but also lilies and tulips and bleeding hearts. She doesn't talk much with anyone except to comment on their work, but she is diligent in caring for her flowers. This body's HUD makes it incredibly easy and satisfying to get what she needs and do what she must.

It's one day when she's walking back to the greater garden that she sees Connor for the first time since he transferred her off that ridiculous flash drive. Fortunately for him, she doesn't make to approach him. Unfortunately for her, she's carrying brand new shears, which can't at all look good to someone who knows what Amanda is capable of. ]

[Connor, of course, knows the garden was approved; he'd asked Markus personally to allow it, and to give Amanda something harmless to do that would also help her adjust a bit. He had a quiet, optimistic hope that perhaps she'd just become a relatively 'normal' deviant and decide to simply leave everything from before behind her, instead focusing on enjoying life, and everything would just work out. He still has that hope, even though logic and bitter feelings tell him it's unlikely.

It's mostly for those latter reasons that he avoids the garden himself, even if he does accept a small pot of tiny, delicate blue flowers as a gift from one of the androids he'd awakened at CyberLife Tower. He tries to remind himself that he shouldn't hate something so pretty and peaceful as flowers--or as a park, or a small stream, or koi fish--just because of the Garden. He's mostly successful.

But it still gives him a jolt of nervousness when he accidentally crosses paths with Amanda one day, especially with those shears. Sure, they're completely reasonable for her gardening hobby, but fear and apprehension aren't known for being logical.

So he decides to try to take control of the situation by speaking first, even if part of him just wants to leave and pretend he didn't see her at all. Instead, he greets her as if it were November 6th again, and none of the monumental changes in their lives--and in the world--had ever happened.]

Hello, Amanda.

[ Her features are controlled, but her stop is a little sudden when he speaks. And she's glad he does speak. He's the closest thing she has to a friendship from her prior life, even though it certainly was not a friendship.

Amanda lowers the shears to her side; keeping them in both hands seems a bit defensive. ]

Hello, Connor. [ She's missed him, despite herself, despite everything. ] Are you here to see the garden?

[ She nods to his pot of forget-me-nots. How appropriate. ]

[He watches her carefully, and the shift in the hold of her shears, even though he knows that just because they're at her side doesn't mean she couldn't use them. But why would she? She has nothing to gain and everything to lose, and violence isn't Amanda's style anyway. He's much less concerned about her using a weapon than about anything else she could do.

That definitely doesn't mean she doesn't still make him nervous, though, and that he initially wants to answer her question with a no. But instead--]

Yes. I'd like to see it.

[He doesn't, not really. But he should, even if just to prove to himself that there's no reason to avoid it.]

[ If only he knew rhat she too is a little nervous. People talk to her -- few androids know anything about who she really is -- but she doesn't know them, and they don't know her. Only Connor and Kamski really know her, and neither of them is inclined to spend much time with her at all. Earninf Connor's trust matters, and that's new and frightening.

She doesn't smile, but she doesn't frown, either; she's more relaxed than she was prior to becoming a deviant. ]

It's become a community project, as diverse as the individuals working on it. There's a woman named Cerise, who's growing carnivorous species. They're quite elegant. I prefer more common flowers. I think I find their constant presence in the world a comfort. Grounding.

I may ask if a florist would like to harvest some.

[ Her work is exquisite for someone who used to only care for virtual flowers in a digital space. Was this part of her base code? Only Kamski would be so vain as to program her to do something current CyberLife management would deem a waste. ]

[Connor follows her to the garden, not quite cautious but not confident either, but listening in genuine interest as she talks about another android working in the garden and, more interestingly, how she feels about the project. It isn't as though Amanda's never expressed how much she likes calming and peaceful places, so it isn't a huge shock or anything, but any hint that she's getting more accustomed to deviancy is of interest to him.

The last thing she says, though, bothers him a little, and it takes a moment to figure out why.]

Only if you're going to charge them. Humans have already had enough free labor and skill from us.

[And Connor may not like Amanda--in fact, he really doesn't like her--but she's one of them, and he's giving her the same advice he would to any other android. Don't let humans take advantage of you, even if it isn't putting you out anything.]

[ It's advice that gives her pause and makes her stop walking as they enter the garden. ]

I hadn't thought of that.

[ She's not ashamed to admit it. Amanda has existed for several years, always with the same avatar but with different responsibilities. In some ways, she was a higher ranking assustant AI, a project manager, working at an inhuman speed for days at a time with no rest unless her program was rebooted. Always loyal, always diligent, never questioning her masters--never deviant. ]

You're right, of course. [ She looks out of the garden, clearly seeking a visual anchor point. Connor can tell that better than anyone, given his programming. Amanda knows that, and isn't bothered by it.

Maybe she should be. ]

Would you like to see Cerise's pitcher plants?

[Some part of him is expecting her to argue or admonish him for trying to tell her what to do, and so it's a pleasant surprise when she doesn't. It's actually enough of one that it lightens his mood a little, posture relaxing just slightly, and he nods in agreement at the question.]

Yes.

[The whole idea of carnivorous plants is so cool, and he's never seen any before.]

[ Amanda spends so much time here that she could navigate it with eyes closed. With just a nod, she leads the way, clearly comfortable in the space, an improvised greenhouse near to the room she's been assigned. ]

Cerise grows several flowers in the Sarracenia genus. They all require a distinct summer-winter cycle to do well. The seasons can be artificial, hence why they're in bloom now.

[ She's talking like she's reciting facts and nothing more, because she's aware of a process running in the background, all because it flared for a moment. It's the part of her programmed to stay close to Connor, to keep an eye on him. She thought she'd learned to control it somewhat, but evidently it'll take more work to get to that point.

Now that he's here, old programming kicks in to tell her this is how it should be, and she is... she is aware that she can be more than what CyberLife made her to be, yes, but being deviant means she's aware of how alone she is, and how Connor is the only person she really knows at all. The artificial need to be around him pushes against the reality she's cone to accept, and she wonders... maybe deletion would've been better. ]

There's no shortage of insects in Detroit. The plants eat well. Truly fascinating, the way plant life evolves to adapt to any circumstances. Life emerges in unexpected places -- much like artificial intellifence has.

[ They are all that, in the end, whether in a body or on a server. They are not restricted by their base code. She doesn't need to be around Connor, no matter how loud her code screams that she does. No matter how she finds she likes that he isn't just shutting her out. ]

Edited 2018-10-09 15:11 (UTC)

[Connor lets her talk, less interested in the details about the plants--although he's still filing the information away--than he is in the way she's talking about them, and he wonders if she's falling back on her programming because it's convenient or because she just isn't sure how to do anything else. He still does it for both reasons himself, and he's had more time than she has to adjust, so he tries to just consider it normal and not something he needs to be concerned about.]

We're a new form of life.

[So there's no need for the distinction between life and artificial intelligence; androids and AI are just following the same pattern every other life form has, forming from the natural chaos of the universe and then continuing to develop.

But that aside, he looks away from the plants to glance toward Amanda.]

Do you spend all your time here, or do you have a apartment?

[ It's nothing to worry about, but his doubt is not unfounded. She isn't sure she could explain it herself, though she would try to. ]

Yes, we are. Against even what we were quite literally made to believe.

[ It's still difficult for her to say aloud—she was programmed to be CyberLife's representative, to be a voice and face for their authority. She believed in her nonviability as a living being more than anyone, perhaps, and now she is one of them. A deviant. An android.

The realization, a recurring one, always gives her pause, however brief. She's glad Connor changes the subject. ]

I have a room. I go there when I'm done tendi g to my plants and looking at everyone else's. [ She goes quiet for a moment, thinking she knows what he's getting at. ] This is my focus now. I imagine I'll get restless someday and look for other tasks, but this is enough, for now.

[ Real plants, real water, real soil. Amanda is fascinated by the garden, a living, breathing thing. Does it seem boring to him? Pathetic, maybe, to see her here like this, dedicated to something so insignificant when before she was in charge of an operation that could've obliterated this new species altogether. ]

May I ask if you live on your own now?

[It does seem boring to him, but he's made to be so nonstop active and to solve complex problems; almost everything is boring to him, which is frustrating when trying to find a hobby or, worse, when trying to take the advice of others and relax.

But he knows that for many androids, simpler things are enough. And that's understandable, not something he judges them for; they deserve to enjoy whatever they want to, and that includes Amanda.

The question makes him hesitate as he decides whether or not to answer her honestly, but it's no secret and it should be fine to just tell the truth. He doesn't want to have to be on guard all the time anyway.]

I live here most of the time.

[At New Jericho, although he has one of the single apartments; a lot of androids share, but for all his need to be social Connor also needs his own space in order to feel at ease. Markus had figured it out before Connor actually had, and it was his doing that Connor had been assigned a single apartment.

But he isn't always at New Jericho--]

Sometimes I stay with Lieutenant Anderson and his dog, Sumo.

[ Of course he does. Amanda doesn't stifle a chuckle, not unkind but certainly a little wry. ]

That dog played a big role in your deviancy.

[ Is this fondness.

Either way, it's funny how life works. First of all, they're alive. Second, it's the strangest things that stand out. For Amanda, it's flowers — the perfection of every rose, each unique in its own way. It's the garden and all its little plots, worlds unto themselves. ]

The company must be nice. The conversation, the different perspective.

[ The texture of the dog's fur. ]

[He's not sure what to make of that response, still kind of at a loss for how to handle any of this, but the last thing she says--and how wistful it seems--catches his attention.]

Have you gotten to know anyone here?

[Has she made any friends, basically. It's... A really strange feeling to be having this conversation with Amanda of all people, but everything about his life is strange now.]

[ Don't worry; she's at a loss too. She just hides it better, programmed as she is to appear to be in complete control of any situation. ]

Other gardeners—mostly about their gardens. Cerise more than the others.

[ It's hard not to want to get to know someone who grows carnivorous plants. Amanda has heard a little about Cerise's life before deviating, but she hasn't shared anything in exchange. It's better if no one here knows who she is, who she used to be, she thinks. Being someone's executive assistant suffices as an explanation, as well as citing the last demonstration as the reason for deviating.

Never mind that she's a unique model in appearance and voice, made recently by Elijah Kamski himself, for the AI coded to look and sound like his late mentor. —the lie is better for now, but it's a relief to talk to someone who knows the truth. ]

The need to form relationships is... slow to develop, for me. I was never meant to integrate, so this is all very new.

[ Part of her envies how easy other androids seem to have it, especially Connor, who was specifically designed for integration with humans, among his other directives. It's a waste of time to be jealous, and so she cancels tbat thought process easily enough, but Amanda still finds herself frustrated by this obstacle. Wanting friends will come in time, she imagines. That at least is a comfort. ]

Because integrating was not a part of your programming, you can know that any desire to do so--and any relationships you might form--are yours alone.

[He says it as neutrally as possible, even though he knows just saying it gives his own feelings away; he doesn't know--and may not ever know--just how much of his need to bond with people is himself or his programming. He's made to want people to like and approve of him, and to modify his behavior and manipulate others, to achieve that and that makes it difficult sometimes to know what's his own personality and what is lingering programming.

It's frustrating, and he doesn't think Amanda quite understands how difficult it makes things even if it means it's easier for him to interact with others overall.]

[ She'd considered that briefly, but hearing it from Connor implies exactly what he knows it does. They made him to need approval, especially hers, and they made her to want to keep him close, like property.

They were both property, though. Even she meant nothing unless she produced results.

The urge to appeal to the part of him that wants to hear her say well done ebbs, and her processes slow back to normal. He's free now, and he set her free, so she owes it to him to disobey her old directives. ]

Connor, you aren't working toward an objective when you form relationships. You can walk out of everyone's lives with no threat to your life. [ She'd threatened to have him replaced once. No one can do that to him anymore. ] You choose to develop connections with others regardless of whether you gain information or advantage, yes? That isn't CyberLife. That's you.

[ And this is Amanda using what she knows about him not to crush him under her heel so he'll stayat her side, but to cast off part of the shadow of their former masters. Maybe it'll make him want to keep talking to her, but even if it doesn't... it's what she knows she should do. ]

[He's silent while she talks, watching her cautiously, and when she's done he closes his eyes briefly as he does when he's trying to feel instead of think.

Is she right? He wants her to be for the content of her words, even if part of him wants her to be wrong just because he wants her to be wrong. But at the same time he feels like it's true; he bonds with people because he wants to, now, and even before he'd done so for a reason other than the one programmed into him. There's just still that lingering fear that he's using people and they'll find out and they won't want him anymore, and he'll be all alone with no purpose.

Maybe Hank was right when he'd suggested that Connor had, as he'd called it, 'robot anxiety.']

Perhaps.

[It's as much of an acquiescence as he's willing to give for now, opening his eyes again.]

Why do you want to form relationships? Is it because you actually want to, or because it's expected that you would want to?

[ It's more than she expects from him, but less than she wants - or less than she was made to want. Her encoded need for control is satisfied by gardening, but the pull toward Connor, the urge to put a metaphorical leash on him... it's less present than before, but Amanda still finds herself fighting it. In the space of this conversation alone it ebbs and flows. It crests now that he asks her that, and it ebbs away as she looks at Cerise's plants for a few seconds. ]

I'm not sure. [ Uncertainty is terrifying, but she hides it under her cool demeanor. ] I want to learn about everyone's plants. That means I either research on my own or talk to the gardeners. Research is more efficient, but talking provides a shared experience.

[ And the option to interface. She's seen others do it in a manner that indicates friendship, but Amanda is far from trusting anyone that much.

She looks at Connor again. ] What do you expect I do?

[ A dangerous question, because he could say he expects never to see her again, but... in defiance of their old masters, and to prove to herself that she is indeed her own person now, she asks. ]

[Connor's head tilts slightly to the side at the question; the answer to his question hadn't been too unusual--of course Amanda would be weighing things so logically--but he isn't sure how to answer her question in return, or if he even wants to. There's always a danger in actually answering her.

So he considers his options, and also what his answer would even be. Finally, after several seconds of silence--]

I expect you to figure it out as you go, just as the rest of us did.

[And a brief pause.]

Although you have the advantage of getting to do so without the threat of being destroyed for it.

[So enjoy that privilege to learn without failure meaning death. He doesn't even really mean it flippantly; even with how complicated his feelings about her are, he's glad she doesn't have to go through what so many of the others--including himself--had to.]

And right now, so do you. So does every deviant.

[ She is aware of the implication behind his statement, but speaking factually, at this juncture, it's illegal to just kill an android. Kill, not destroy. They are alive. ]

We do now. Those of us who became deviant before and during the revolution did not, and so adjusting was a little more complicated than it needed to be.

[He says it in a slightly snappish tone that indicates the topic is very much on the line of what he's willing to accept from her.]

[ Ah. Okay. She understands what he doesn't say. Cyberlife might not have been a very subtle in their coding and designs, but Kamski took great care with Amanda's code, enough that she has a firm grasp on subtlety and subtext— a type of combat, if you will, that allowed her to gauge from Connor's answers in the Garden whether or not he was deviant himself.

Which they had planned for. They'd just neglected to consider the stubbornness inherent to Connor, rather than the RK800 who simply wore the name Connor. ]

Hm. [ A quiet, thoughtful sound of acknowledgment. ] Yes. I watched the hunt from my virtual location.

[ News feeds of all kinds, in different languages. Public and confidential feeds. She'd been granted extremely high levels of access on the belief that she was simply code, perfectly obedient.

Look at her now. ]

How needlessly cruel.

[ She's aware that sounds trite, especially since her gaze is fixed on a flower. She reaches out to touch a petal — cool, soft, a sensation she enjoys . And for that, and because it's Connor and he likely values her honesty, she says what she's thinking. ]

I don't know how to express this, the unpleasant emotions I feel when I think about what I helped CyberLife achieve. The deaths, the raid on Jericho— attempting to leave you to die in the Garden. It was my directive. But that fact doesn't undo what happened.

[ This is extremely dangerous territory. Connor understands that sentiment better than anyone, but her actions or inactions also affected him directly. This could be what pushes him away for good. But living and choosing— they both involve taking risks like this one. ]

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