missiondeterminant | [Open Post]

[It's a relief when they makes it outside, despite the darkening sky and increasing wind; Connor spares a moment to self-scan, finding that he's unharmed from the confrontation other than the back of his jacket being covered in thirium from being shoved against the desk. However, he does realize he has a collection of new files in storage from the connection, simultaneously curious and afraid of seeing what they might be.

He decides to leave them for now, focusing outwardly on Kara, carefully slowing his unnecessary breathing; just like Kara he's finding the situation very stressful, and even before he was deviant he was made to mimic humans so closely that such human-like responses--whether because of real emotions or to emulate them--are extra pronounced.]

It's worth a try.

[He isn't so sure it'll work--there may not be a way out at all--but right now it's the only idea they have. The police station obviously hadn't been a good choice, so he's willing to try her suggestion.

Also, she seems fine, but--]

Are you alright?

[ How honestly should she answer that question? In a normal conversation, she wouldn't hesitate to encourage him to answer truthfully, and she would do the same. But this isn't normal, and even though she knows lying won't change anything, she's tempted to. ]

I'm not damaged. [ That's a start. ] I'm just-- getting over the fear response. [ This is hard. Emotions are hard to begin with, but this place makes it harder. She takes a breath, deep and slow, and refocuses. ] What about you?

[ She'd ask that no matter what, but ber concern is reinforced by her programming. Caretakers look out for their charges, be they adults or children. They look, sound, and act nonthreatening, and they help however they can. Connor was a threat until just minutes ago, but he's her ally now, if nothing else, and that means that Kara is going to worry about him. ]

[Okay, good, she's not damaged, but he wonders about when the android in there grabbed--or tried to grab?--her wrist; did it do the same thing to her that it did to him? He won't know if he doesn't ask, which means explaining, and he isn't sure he wants to.

But he has to, because who knows what it was, and it might put her in danger not to know. So he grits his teeth briefly before forcing out a truthful response.]

The android transferred a package of data to me. I don't know what it is.

[ So that's what that was about. The truth is definitely the way to go in his situation. She's glad she did the same. ]

Have you scanned it yet? [ It seems obvious, but sometimes a reminder is necessary. ] It looked like it was hurting you.

[ A gust of wind trips her temperature scanner. Kara looks up at the sky to get a read on the weather. ] It's getting colder. We have to keep moving. I'll keep an eye out while you scan.

[It's a good reminder because he definitely hasn't scanned it yet, still recovering a little from the emotional shock just as she is. The gust of wind and the incoming snow don't help, and he focuses back on Kara before nodding at her words.]

I'll follow you.

[He doesn't bother with anything more than that right now, although he makes a mental note to reassure her after the scan that it hadn't hurt him; he isn't sure why he was programmed to have such a visible and unsettling reaction to unexpected data connections, but it's inconvenient to hm and even more so when it causes concern to others.

He initiates the start of a surface scan on the package of files, mostly focused inward on the process but with enough attention turned outward that he can follow Kara on autopilot. Anything unexpected in their surroundings will ping his system too, but for the most part he'll be out of it for the minute or so it will take to do the preliminary scan, and then more for the deeper one if the surface scan comes back as safe.]

[ Just him being responsive at all is good enough for her. What he just went theough would definitely upset her, especially with so much else to deal with.

Kara leads the way down the street. Their destination is the bridge, but she's mindful of their surroundings. They need a little warmth and some shelter, and though she doesn't trust buildings right now, maybe an abandoned store will work. Something with plenty of exits but enough cover from the elements that they can keep a fire going if they start one.

A trash can would work, and a line of stores with cracked windows looks promising too. She glances at Connor, checks for danger around them, and veers off to the stores, grabbing a metal garbage can as they go. ]

Looks clear. [ she whispers as she peers into the first shop. She waits and listens for a little longer, and then she goes inside.

There are dusty clothes on all the tables and mannequins, more than enough to burn for the night. She sets up behind the checkout counter and heads back out to grab clothes to burn. All the while, she checks on Connor. The irony of being so attached to her former pursuer is not lost on her. ]

[Connor follows after her without thinking, all of his actual attention on dealing with the file package. His first surface scan comes back as safe--no obvious malware detected--and he goes ahead with a secondary deeper scan to try to actually identify the data.

He definitely isn't expecting the files to be of the type that hold memories; not just the external recordings of experiences, but actual memories with everything else included in them. Do they belong to the android that connected with them? That would make sense; the connection is primarily used to transfer memories after all, and even the 'awakening' that Connor and Markus are capable of is based in that core mechanic. The only problem with that explanation is that during these kinds of connections the androids normally experience the memories together, at the time, rather than transferring files to be opened at a later time.

He's mentally debating with himself over whether or not to open one of the files when the change in air pressure and lighting register to him, prompting him to focus again on his surroundings. They're in an abandoned store, it looks like, and he frowns at Kara as she passes by to collect clothes.]

Why are we stopped?

It's getting too cold out. Increasing wind speed and declining temperature plus the threat of imminent precipitation-- [ Kara looks up from dumping clothes in the trash can. ] It could damage us.

[ Trust her, she's an AX400. ]

Did your scan find anything?

[Connor wants to argue that it can't be that cold, but he's also an advanced model and his tolerance is probably higher. Besides that, though, he casts a glance outside to where the wind is continuing to pick up, a snowflake here and there beginning to fall and be caught up in it, and realizes he doesn't want to go out in it. He isn't a huge fan of snowstorms.

So he looks around for some way to help, settling on shoving a heavy set of shelves in front of the shop door just in case any of the androids from the precinct might've followed them, and also using it as an excuse to delay answering her question.]

It isn't anything overtly harmful, just... A collection of memory files. I haven't looked at them.

[ Surviving long enough to make it out of here being the objective, Kara isn't too concerned when he busies himself with the makeshift barricade. She has the fire to start, even if it is only for her sake at this point. Nobody ever planned for a maidbot to be in a scenario like this, after all. ]

...whose memories? [ She uses the debris to light a spark and get the fire going. It's comforting. ] And what of?

[ Whatever happened here? No, not possible. This isn't real in the way their bodies are, unless there are stories written into the fabric of this simulation. ]

You don't think... what happened in the precinct?

[Connor resists the urge to repeat that he hasn't looked at them and so he doesn't know, having calmed enough at this point that he doesn't feel the need to act out on emotion. Instead he just shakes his head, LED spinning yellow for a moment as he glances toward her before looking back outside again. He can keep watch, at least.]

I don't know. There is no metadata that I can access without viewing the files.

[So he doesn't know whose memories they actually are, even if it seems likely they would belong to the android at the station, and therefore quite possibly be exactly what Kara suggests. But why send them that way instead of the usual manner of viewing them while connected?

He has an idea, suddenly, and looks back toward Kara again.]

Is there a register here?

[It's a shop, so surely there's a register for making sales, and even if it has no useful connection to another network like the precinct's computers would've it should still have a monitor. If so, Connor can transfer one of the memory files to it and he and Kara can watch it back with just the visual and audio data. It would be safer for both of them that way, and maybe they could find out something useful.]

[ Of course there's no metadata. Too much to hope for, but the situation is pretty dire. ]

Yes, over here. [ Androids wouldn't need the monitor, but humans would. This store may have been human only, and so there it is.

Kara retracts the synthetic skin of her hand and touches the machine, half expecting it to short circuit. Instead, it boots with a soft hum, under which she could swear she hears quiet, childlike whining--

But there's no one here. Did Connor even hear that? It must be the stress... it has to be. ]

It looks like it's working. [ She steps aside to give Connor room. The whining has stopped conpletely; it was probably just her. ]

[Connor definitely doesn't hear it, just the sound of the computer starting up and it's a welcome step in the right direction; at least something is working for them. He steps up next to Kara, allowing his synthetic skin to retract just as she had, touching the computer and choosing the first file to copy to the machine.

It doesn't take more than a moment, but he hesitates on calling it up; something in him--intuition, maybe, even if it's still difficult for him to imagine having such a thing--tells him this isn't necessarily something he'll want to see. But if these files were transferred to him then they're important, and he and Kara need all the clues they can get about why they're here and what they need to do to get out.

So, with another brief glance toward Kara, he commands the machine to play back the file.

And advantage of this sort of viewing is that it's just the audio and visual data, much like a recording by a camera; the disadvantage is the same, in that there's nothing more. Other sensory data like touch or smell, the time of day, gyroscope information, mental thoughts, and anything else the android might've experienced aren't a part of it. So it's impossible to tell when this file takes place, or what other information that comes from the other senses, without watching it back first hand instead of on the screen.

But this is one of the few times he's glad to have limited information, because the visual and audio data is bad enough. The scene is almost completely white and it takes a moment to realize that's because wherever its taking place is extremely bright, edges of objects only appearing when there's movement and then fading right back into the blur of light.

It's also loud. Extremely loud, and it's difficult to pick out the different causes of it; Connor is pretty sure some of it is static, some the sound of a saw or drill, some a high pitched frequency androids can pick up easily but is at the upper end of a human's range. There's more, but it's lost under the din and because of the limited playback capabilities of the computer they're using.

A mission objective suddenly flashing across the screen is the first thing that's really visible, and it's simple: Find The Target. But Connor can't really tell if anything is actually happening as soon as the mission objective is acknowledged and temporarily dismissed, disappearing to be replaced with just the whiteness and noise. It's almost impossible to tell if whoever's memory this is is even moving, let alone doing anything.

This goes on for six seconds when abruptly a voice cuts through the noise, perfectly clear despite everything else going on.]

You failed.

[There's a loud bang and the memory ends abruptly, but Connor's already stopped paying attention and jerks his hand away from the computer, backing up several steps. The scene itself didn't bother him--he could barely tell what was even happening--but the voice was one he knows all too well, and the implications begin to whirl in his head immediately.

It was Amanda. And if it was Amanda, then...]

[ Kara has never heard Amanda; she doesn't even know such an AI exists. To her, the memoey is an indecipherable puzzle, and an unsettling one at that.

What makes her really afraid is Connor's reaction. In the time she's known him, he's been confident and capable, as close to perfect as an android gets. He's been snippy too, which convinced her that he's deviant, and despite herself, she's grown attached to him -- though given their circumstances, that was to be expected.

He's upset now, wholly unlike his usual self, and Kara refocuses her fear into concern for him. ]

Are you okay? Come sit down by the fire until you feel more stable.

[ If he doesn't resist, she'll guide him to do just that. Either way, she's not leaving his side. Her priority is to bring down his stress levels. ]

[Connor only sort of hears Kara, stuck in his thoughts, LED cycling red as he processes what this all means. That was Amanda. There's no mistaking it, and if it was Amanda, then that means whoever's memory this is was under her direction. Connor knows, logically, that it could be any number of different prototypes over time, because Amanda is an AI and has surely been active for some time, but the only model he knows for sure she was directed to handle was his.

But he doesn't remember anything like what he saw, and the android whose memory it was hadn't spoken or given any clue of who or what it was. He knows he could find out for sure the answer to the questions swirling around if he just views the actual memory, rather than the audio/video data, but he's... Afraid. He doesn't want to see it, and it's only one of so many files.

His stress levels have spiked up into a dangerous range, but not high enough to be an imminent threat to him or potentially Kara; at her suggestion part of him wants to snap that he's fine, there's nothing wrong and he can handle this himself, but the rest of him knows she's right. It's better for both of them if he takes a moment to calm down, even if the idea is causing him to feel another mix of unpleasant emotions--primarily guilt? no, something else that's close but he can't quite identify--as he allows her to guide him over toward the fire.]

I'm okay.

[He manages the words, and they sound moderately more convincing than they had when he said them to Hank on the roof of Stratford Tower. He thinks they probably wouldn't if he'd actually experienced the memory instead of watching it.]

You don't... You don't need to worry. I'm okay.

[That's probably not all that convincing, though, as his gaze is still distant, looking through the fire rather than at it. He tells himself firmly to snap out of it, because this is not helpful, and tries to pull himself together; it doesn't help his stress levels, but he does look at Kara again.]

I think I know who's causing this.

[Everything they'd seen, where they are, how they'd gotten here. He doesn't have answers for the specifics, but as for who's behind it, he's suddenly sure he knows.]

[ He's not okay. Not completely. Instinct -- something that runs deeper than her programming -- prompts her to keep her hand on his arm. A real, steadying presence, reassuring him that she's here, even though there's not much she can do to defend the pair of them. He looks like a young kid overwhelmed, and maybe that's what he is. What they all are. Adolescent minds in synthetic bodies.

The wind outside begins to howl. Kara shifts a little closer to the fire. ]

Who? [ Her wide-eyed gaze is steady on his, even as she hears a sharp wail in the wind. ] Why?

[ Well, she thinks she knows why. ]

Edited (hits post, sees typo) 2018-07-25 18:04 (UTC)

[He's quiet at her questions, because even though he was expecting them he isn't sure immediately how to answer. He doesn't actually want to, because he doesn't want to talk to anyone about Amanda at all; he'd told Markus and his inner circle because he'd had to, in case things went wrong again, and he'd told Hank, but that was it. He'd prefer never to talk about what happened in the Zen Garden ever again.

But Kara needs to know, because she's stuck in this too, and if it really is Amanda's doing then it's probably Connor's fault Kara is here at all. He owes her this much, and so after a moment he allows the synthetic skin to recede on his hand again, waiting to see if she'll get the idea and do the same. He definitely isn't going to force the connection, but this way he can let her see what she needs to without having to actually tell her, and she'll have a better understanding the situation than she would've if he'd told her anyway.]

[ There's a sinking sensation in Kara's chest and lower, where a human's stomach would be, at the sight of Connor's pristine, skinless hand. Words can only communicate so much. Kara knows perhaps better than most how to make them work, but sometimes they're not enough. They're lucky enough to be able to communicate this way when all else fails.

She wants to know, but she's scared to find out. Even so, she reaches for his hand, touching it only once her synthetic skin has retracted, eyes closed as if that can help at all.

If it's bad for her, it's worse for him to relive it, so she reins in her nerves and tries her best to protect steadiness. ]

[He doesn't show her everything. There's no need to, and most of it isn't useful anyway, but he shows her enough so she's able to understand; he shows her Amanda's disappointment at him for being shot during the interrogation, her brief approval at Connor having nearly apprehended Rupert before her mood turned around as she confronted him on letting the deviant escape, and her pointed questions and veiled threat to replace him when he tries to explain why he didn't shoot the Tracis. He shows Kara the orders to find Jericho, and the directive to kill the deviant leader.

And then he shows her hours later, on the stage, during the speech. What Amanda said about his deviancy being planned, how she abandoned him to freeze in the Garden, how he had to fight through the snowstorm to regain control just in time to put away the gun he didn't remember drawing.

Then he pulls away, taking a few deep breaths to try to control his stress again--this is one of the worst parts of being deviant, and he's gotten better and better at understanding Hank in the last week because of it--before turning his gaze toward the fire again.]

It was her voice in the memory.

[He says it even though Kara must've already figured it out, and can probably connect the same dots he did about whose memory that might then be.]

It would be too coincidental for her not to be involved.

[ There's fear, of course, and guilt for having failed. There's pride at the praise, followed by a sharp anger, directed internally, over another failure. The threat is terrifying, and then a strange desperation, the feeling of this being a final chance--

And cold, and loneliness, and despair. The garden is fearsome, a prison.

She's shaking when he pulls back his hamd, her skin spreading to cover her casing as their world comes back into focus, no wonder there's a storm building outside. Amanda is reminding him that she's still here, and that she still has power over him. ]

The memory was yours. [ That makes it so much worse. Kara shakes her head. ] And she's using it to torture you.

[ Emotional torture, something to really unsettle and hurt a deviant with. Kara knows it firsthand from watching Zlatko walk away with a cruel laugh and thoughts of doing who knew what to Alice.

She thinks... maybe she's here to hurt him more. A deviant he failed to catch, whose plight he seems to understand now. Watching her suffer would make him feel powerless all over again, while also punishing Kara for her own choices. ]

We're gonna get out of here. [ Her voice trembles, but her tone is firm. ] You're your own person now, and so am I. We can do this, Connor.

It isn't a memory I have. It must've come from previous tests of my line, and was never transferred to the active field models.

[In other words, himself, and his predecessor that had been destroyed in the interrogation room by the stressed deviant. But is there really any reason to make the distinction there? Wasn't it just him?

Kara's being so kind and understanding that it's almost suspicious, although he thinks that it might seem more so because he'd just relieved the memories of Amanda; Markus and the rest of the Jericho crew, even the notoriously harsh North, have also been kind and welcoming to him. But he'd had a chance to prove himself to them, at least, and so it's different with Kara; it isn't really fair to her that she has no choice but to work with him while they're stuck here, so he couldn't blame her if the kindness is fake and meant to make their interactions go smoothly. She's probably afraid of him, both due to their meeting during the revolution and the information she just saw; this is all probably his fault, after all, and she was dragged into it for some unknown reason and has to rely on him in order to get out. As if what he knows of her life hasn't been unfair enough.

He wonders, for a brief moment, if he might be able to do something right now to make this stop; if this is really about him, and it's working through Amanda's access to him--unconfirmed theories, but the best they have right now--then what if he breaks the connection? Could he do that in here? What would happen if he destroyed himself; would it even work, and would it end this ordeal for Kara or would it just destroy her too?

That last thought, more than any other reason not to do it, keeps him from trying anything. Instead, he focuses on what Kara said and tries to take it at face value, filing away the more drastic option as a potential future resort.]

There must be some point to this other than revenge.

[Because Amanda is an AI, and surely revenge isn't her only goal. Right? Of course, she is programmed by a human, so who knows; a human angry at Connor for ruining CyberLife's plans could genuinely be doing this just for revenge, but he thinks there still must be some greater plan.]

If we can find out what that is, we'll have the best chance of getting out of here.

[ It's mostly sincere -- she really can't help but sympathize with him after he shared all of that with her -- but a little out lf convenience, yes. It'll be easier for both of them if they get along. That said, she can't fake kindness anymore. Before she went deviant, it was all she could be, even when Todd threatened her or hit Alice in front of her. Now... now she has her own thoughts and feelings about people and things. She'd decided earlier that she was willing to work together with him; now, she wants to help him as much as help herself. Is she betraying herself here by opening up to the android who hunted her? Should she reject him outright? Or is it okay to feel positively and negatively at the same time about someone?

It's so much easier to think about Alice, to know for certain that they love each other, that they care about Luther. But they're not here. Connor is, and he's been through his own trials since he was activated. ]

Punishment. [ It comes to her so simply that it scares her. ] Discipline. To make you feel powerless, like you have no control -- but she does. [ She glances away, at the wind and snow outside, and remembers the night she and Alice ran away. ] I think that's why Todd broke me, why he hit Alice.

[ And ir's not something she wants to think about. ]

How can you prove you're the one in control of yourself? I don't think running away to Canada will work.

[ Sorry. :/ ]

Edited (html too? wow im a winner) 2018-07-25 23:06 (UTC)

[He notices how quickly she has an answer, and it makes sense before she continues to explain about Todd; he feels, not for the first time since ending up here with her, that there was no great loss in her shooting Todd. Someone probably should've done it a lot earlier.

He does have an answer to the last question, but it's the same thought that had briefly gone through his head earlier; the same reasons as before stop him from considering it too much further, along with a new sense of spite. He doesn't want to let Amanda force him into doing something like that, because no matter what he might prove--if anything--it would still be a victory for her in the end.

So instead, he'll figure something out. He's done more difficult things before, like going deviant--just as Kara had said--and that thought helps begin to lower his stress level a little. They can do this.]

This is an elaborate simulation. If the only point was controlling me, it would be more simple and you likely wouldn't be here. That indicates there is something we could accomplish here.

[But why? Why would CyberLife have put in a way to 'win'?

Unless it wasn't Cyberlife.]

You saw the backdoor exit that Kamski programmed into the Garden.

[Connor looks at Kara sharply, really coming out of his daze now.]

Maybe he programmed one into everything CyberLife has. If this is just a more elaborate version of the Garden, then there should be an exit, and maybe all the scenery is to keep us from finding it so easily.

[ What he says makes sense, and makes Kara nod. All she knows about Kamski is what Connor showed her in his memory, the echoing voice in the frigid gusts that Amanda abandoned him to in the garden. He always leaves an exit, is what he said. ]

I think you're right. CyberLife wants us trapped here, but there's a way out. We can't ever forget that. [ She says that while staring straight at Connor. This is important. This is their goal. They may be lost as to how to get there, but they know their oobjective.

They have hope now.

She's about to ask him if they should come up with places of significance to them and to Detroit as a whole when what should be a howling gust of wind sounds, to Kara, like a child weeping. Straightening in her seat, she looks wide-eyed through the cracked glass of the shopfront, listening as hard as her audio processing unit can.

There it is again. ]

Did you hear that? It sounds like someone's crying. Like-- like a child.

[ She hears it again and stands, slowly approaching the window. The voice grows louder and clearer. Someone's out there. They have to be. ]

[Connor nods at her in return, affirming that they're in agreement about this; they can do this, and they will. And, out of a combination of both pettiness and wanting to reassure himself, Connor even makes himself a set of official tasks for it:

Mission Objective: Escape CyberLife Simulation
Secondary Mission Objective: Ruin Amanda's Game

Satisfied for now and stress levels continuing to drop back into reasonable ranges, Connor considers getting up to further explore the store when suddenly Kara's expression changes. His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he follows her gaze to see nothing, then rises to join her at the window as she moves toward it.

He's only even more puzzled at her question, allotting more power to his audio processor in order to try and pick up any quiet noises, but all he can hear is the storm picking up.]

I don't hear anything. Are you sure?

[Maybe he just isn't noticing it because the sound of the approaching blizzard is so unsettling to him.]

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cw todd is a dick

fuck todd tbqh

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