missiondeterminant | [Open Post]

[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.]

[ She can't be imagining this. She doesn't even self-diagnose to confirm her systems are working properly. There's no mistaking that sound, clearer every time, extended vocalizations, vowels stretched out to indicate fear, maybe even pain. She presses a hand to the cold pane of glass, peering through the stormy wind.

And the voice calls her name. ]

Alice. [ she breathes, and when she hears it again, she bolts for the door.

Connor's barricade is heavy, but with her stress levels as high as they are, she manages to get it out of the way enough that she can slip through and into the street. ]

Alice!

[ The storm swallos her voice, but she can still hear Alice's -- and why shouldn't she hear her daughter loud and clear? Kara tries again, through their wireless link, desperation mounting. If Alice is here after all, she's not letting them hurt her. ]

[Connor isn't often taken by surprise, but he's just not expecting Kara to suddenly shove aside the barricade and race out into the storm. Even if it is Alice, what the hell is she thinking?

He doesn't hesitate to race after her, shielding his eyes from the wind and what feels like it might be sleet that's starting up, activating his scanners to look for where Kara might've gone. He follows her footprints more than anything else, calling out to her verbally, but just like for her his voice won't carry in the storm and he has to switch to the mental link as well.]

Kara, stop! We need to stay together.

[Who knows what might happen if they get separated.]

[ Never underestimate an AX400 who is also a new mom. Alice is everything to Kara, and probably always will be. Or at least, Kara can't imagine otherwise.

His voice cuts through her frenzied thoughts long enough that she pauses for a moment and tries to reorient herself. She should be about in the middle of the street, right? The storm is messing with her sensors. She's not made for this environment, so maybe it's best if she stays still and waits for Connor, who is better equipped to deal with this weather, right?

But Alice is screaming now, a sharp, piercing scream that tears at Kara's insides. Someone's hurting her daughter. ]

Hurry, Connor, she's scared! She's so scared...!

[ And it is so, so cold. The sleet pelts her face. All she wants to do is run to where Alice's voice is coming from, but in the storm, it sounds like she could be anywhere. And the wind-- it's getting louder, like a truck or a bus traveling too fast for a crowded city like Detroit. ]

Find her first. Please, just stop them hurting her!

[ The engine-roar wind noise starts to drown Alice's voice out. ]

[He still can't hear whatever it is Kara is hearing, and he's beginning to think it's some sort of trick, but on the chance that it really is Alice he shifts processing power again to both his audio receiver and his scanner. Together, if Alice is close enough for Kara to be hearing her, he should be able to find her.

But all he's really picking up is the steadily increasing noise of what sounds like a fast-moving vehicle, like those that are typically confined the the automatic freeway. He doesn't see anything and his scanner don't pick anything up, but the noise is just growing louder and the storm is increasing, and so it almost startles him when he runs directly into Kara in the middle of the street.

Connor barely has a chance to register that if he ran into Kara instead of sensing her then there's something wrong with his scanner, before the noise is suddenly directly upon them and Connor dodges on reflex, pulling Kara with him. But he can't see anything and so just doesn't react quickly enough to avoid being clipped by whatever it was, and warnings flash in his vision which he quickly dismisses; none of them are critical, so he'll deal with them once he figures out if Kara's okay. They should be right next to each other, so he shouts her name verbally instead of using the connection.]

Kara!?

[ Connor catches her off guard -- what wouldn't, in these conditions -- so Kara is already off balance and in no position to even think of resisting when he pulls her out of the way of oncoming traffic. She lands hard on her side, (and she's ashamed to say she screamed as all of this happened) triggering an alert on the state of her shoulder joint (very minor damage to the skin layer, which will heal over quickly enough) which hurts but at least isn't serious. In any case, she's more concerned with finding Alice, but the only person she hears is Connor.

Rather than answer, she reaches for him, fingers wrapping around his forearm. It's easier this way, given the weather. She doesn't want to lose track of him again. ]

I can't hear Alice anymore! [ she shouts over the wind. ] Did you find her?

[ With his advanced scanning capabilities, if anyone can find her in this mess, it's him. At least it seems like the sky is growing lighter. The reflection off the snowflakes won't be the most helpful, but she'd rather that than darkness, if not for their sake, then for Alice's. ]

[He feels Kara's grip on his arm and she must be at least mostly okay, especially since she's still talking about Alice, but he's more focused on the sound of another... Something approaching. They need to get out of the road.

He doesn't bother explaining, instead just pulling Kara up as he gets to his feet as well, tugging her forcefully to the side of the road and out of the path of any additional oncoming cars. He does reach out his sensors to continue scanning, however, trying to locate Alice, but there's still nothing.]

I don't think she's here, Kara.

[He raises his voice to respond, even though they're right next to each other, his head still ducked against the wind. He hates this, and at this point he feels like this must be a trap.

But what if Alice really is out there somewhere?]

[ They're in danger out here, both from the storm and from speeding traffic. An abandoned, ruined Detroit shouldn't still have vehicles in operation, but then, this isn't real. It's a simulation meant to keep them trapped forever.

If Connor can't find Alice, then... maybe he's right. She fell for Amanda's trick and moved them out of their shelter and into possible death, or worse. ]

Let's go back.

[ But where is "back"? Kara is disoriented, and she doesn't trust her mental map, built off memory alone. The sleet feels sharp on her exposed synthetic skin, but she's not letting go of Connor.

Feeling as best she can with her comparatively limited capabilities, Kara starts towards what should be another empty store. Anything to get out of the wind, in her opinion. She'll even take a dumpster at this point. As she moves, she says guiltily through their link, ]

I'm sorry. I almost got us killed.

[Connor sticks close to Kara, both so they don't get separated and so he doesn't get lost; the mental communication continues to cause the annoying side-effect of rapid blinking, which doesn't help the sense of disorientation they're both feeling. But this time he suddenly realizes what the reason for such an annoying and highly visible reaction being programmed into him might be; it might've been to discourage him from communicating with other androids in any secret way. If he only spoke to them verbally, and he was with humans at pretty much all times in the course of his job, then there would've less of a chance for him to create any sort of rapport with a deviant that might compromise him.

But that's something to consider later, even if the very thought makes him want to use the connection--inconvenience it causes him or not--out of spite. Right now they need to get back inside, and he needs to reassure Kara, which he does out loud again.]

You thought Alice needed help.

[And if Alice had really been in this simulation with them, then the risk would've been well worth it. It isn't Kara's fault that it had been a trick.]

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cw todd is a dick

fuck todd tbqh

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