dualisooc | TDM 001. WELCOME TO THE CITY

Entry tags:

!tdm

TDM 001. WELCOME TO THE CITY

» 01. WELCOME WAGON

Wow, what a bunch of new faces! The city of Dualis hasn't seen anything like this in a long time, and they've seen some pretty crazy things. Chances are you're seeing some pretty crazy things, too, unless you're used to a lot of neon, robots, weird-ass technology, magic, and an omnipresent police force...and hey, if you are, congrats, you're gonna settle in juuuuust fine. But for the rest of you, the Head knows this has gotta be pretty overwhelming, right?

Well, since your quaint individual processing units are probably having a hard time, why not link up with another one? By which the Head means...

Hello, new citizens of Dualis, and welcome to your first monthly Network Adjacency Protocol~!

NAPs are a monthly community networking event similar to the Earth concept of speed dating! Two citizens (new arrivals and old hands alike) are placed at a table together with a handy cue card of queries to help break the proverbial ice. Ask queries and receive results, or ignore the card and yeet yourself straight into a brand new friendship! But don't be too shy, you've only got ten minutes together, and if you just sit in silence for the whole ten, then the Network Admins are likely to come supervise and try to repair the uplink through a mild shock to the ol' central nervous system. You might find yourself saying all sorts of unintended facts about yourself if that happens...probably better to just make friends, right?

» 02. A BUG IN THE CODE

Remember how the Head mentioned that whole plague thing? Well, don't worry, this isn't that.

It is, however, a really, really terrible flu circulating through the residents of Dualis. Symptoms include fever, chills, vomiting, hallucinations and even in some cases seizures. Bad news, all around. Luckily, this is something the Head knows how to deal with! Time for vaccinations, everyone~

The vaccination process is pretty straightforward: just head to your local clinic and get innoculated! You'll be in and out in less than ten minutes, MedDualis is pretty efficient that way. There isn't even a copay. The MedDroids will tell you, however, that there might be some minor side effects** to watch out for, including physical reactions and odd dreams, but don't worry--those will wear off within forty-eight hours. Nothing to concern yourself about! Of course, if that worries you, you could always run the risk of getting the flu--or passing it on to your loved ones...

**Possible side effects include: Gender or sex change, positive or negative size change, appearance alterations, shared dreams, and mild telepathic links, among others. Please contact your local MedDroid if these symptoms become too severe, or other side effects such as death occur.

» 03. TANSTAAFL

Well, you're settling in just fine, and the basic accommodations and amenities are okay, but maybe you've got a hankering to see that new VR Film: SHARKS IN SPACE 85: BLACK HOLE SHARK DO DO DO DO DO DO DO. Or maybe you want some sweet new duds to wear around town, or even just an actual slab of steak. Sorry, those cost extra, pal, which means it's time for...

JOB HUNTING.

Fortunately, Dualis makes this pretty easy! There's a job fair on this week, down at the Central Hub! Plug your certifications and skills into any of the EmployMe terminals in the Dualis Central Hub, and the computer will auto-generate a currently open job that it feels you'd be best suited for. No resume writing or lengthy application process required! Of course, whether or not this job sounds like the right job for you is another matter...but hey, how could an AI with millions of years of learning be wrong? Time to get started, or try and switch waivers with another unhappy new employee--but be warned, some unforeseen consequences may occur if you try swapping identities with someone else...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He finds himself laughing as well, only the slightest chuckle, but there it is all the same. (He doesn't believe he's ever laughed before. It's a nice feeling)

"I've never said anything about your choice of shirts," he protests. In fact, he distinctly remembers picking out the most ridiculous one he could see in Hank's wardrobe for them to go to the Eden Club. He caught sight of Hank at one point, standing examining the corpse, and specifically felt quite satisfied to have contributed to the overall effect. "You have excellent taste in wallpaper."

Connor doesn't know the word 'shade', but if he did, he'd like it.

"So we have mutants that can alter one another's DNA. And we have wizards. And... You've seen these things, right? Mutant powers and magic spells."

Not that he's suggesting Hank's been duped or anything. Just making sure.

"Um... no. But uh... I've seen some of the aliens. Like the blue guy with the floating arrow, and that's pretty much convinced me that they're probably not lying. They just keep mentioning that stuff's been turned off. Weapons have gone missing. That kinda thing."

And then, still looking proud of himself, he adds on a, "I have the best taste in wallpaper."

Because he knows his offensive patterns are just that; offensive. They're not fashionable, they're as brash and uncaring as his language. They're spite against the uniforms he used to wear and has to wear now. A boisterous voice worn on his body, as loud as the passion in the music he chooses.

"I'll make sure to wear the best new one I have when we're out together because you make all the colors brighter and stand out more."

That could be a kindness, an acknowledgement that Connor brings out the best in him, or Hank just proclaiming that he knows he's Connor's unashamed embarrassment.

"Blue guy with the floating arrow," Connor repeats, and he's not picturing a bow-and-arrow arrow, he's picturing a ClipArt-style arrow floating alongside his head or something. It's an odd picture. But so are blue men in general.

"If anyone else were telling me this, I wouldn't believe it for a second." He's seen hints of it, sure, but without the ability to fully scan his surroundings and cross-reference off the internet or facial recognition databases, he's not had proof that anything was really happening that isn't perfectly scientifically possible back in Detroit.

"Do you mean because I'm dressed like a normal person and make you stand out all the more?" he asks, enjoying the whole back-and-forth...and then he looks down. Stops walking. The bright blue of the various android markers on his uniform jacket stand out like sore thumbs. Back home, it marked him as first a slave, and then possibly a dangerous insurgent.

But now it just looks strange. His LED starts to flash yellow.

Red. Red.

Blue.

He shrugs off his jacket, walks over to the nearest trash can, and shoves it inside. Then, in just his shirt and tie, he returns to Hank.

"Now you stand out more."

Knowing what those lights mean spark jolts of overreaction, moments where he can actually feel anxiety travel through the bends of his guts. The worry that he'll see him shut down one day. The light returns to blue, though, and he's shedding his jacket, and Hank's able to follow the dim tells. That coat has a giant blue triangle and a word labeling him. A number identifying him as a product, a valuable one, but a product.

And then Connor discards it. A sign of his old identity casually thrown in the trash.

"You know, let's go shopping, too. Then you can get yourself something else grayscale."

He forces that look of concern from his face, back to something friendly. He's only bought one thing; a gun. A gun that he's hidden in the back of a drawer, purchased before Connor got here and while overcome with guilt at the idea that he might have abandoned him despite all his promises to the contrary.

Not the best shopping trip. He can afford to spend some money on the two of them. And fucking stupidly not really consider how much that would be like a date.

He eyes his shirt sleeves...then rucks them up to his elbows, one after the other. And he can feel his tie constricting his neck, collar-like. He loosens it. Leaves it just like that, refuses to listen to the urge to re-adjust it.

He folds his arms as he looks back up at Hank. "You're going to take me shopping?" He pictures himself suddenly and very clearly dressed like Hank - ridiculous doubled-up shirts, pants and jacket that make him look significantly bulkier than he actually is - and one side of his mouth quirks up in a grin.

"As long as I get to choose what I buy. And you should know I spent the only five dollars I had buying you a drink."

Luckily for Hank, Connor has not a clue what constitutes a date - never had any reason to look it up - so that aspect of the thing doesn't cross his mind.

Hank watches Connor with the vaguely surprised expression a girl might have when watching her girlfriend switching from jeans to a skirt between floors on an elevator. The android is practically scandalous at this point.

"I'll let you pick, I promise. They give you 200 duos to start out with- that's their currency. I figure it's like a uh... 8:1 dollar to duo exchange rate? Somethin' like that. But yeah, don't worry, I wouldn't pick your clothes for you."

Hank makes a loosely dismissive gesture. It's a lot of joking, but he knows Connor needs to actually choose a style for himself. Doing some minor shopping for himself will be the best. And maybe some interference from Hank if he sees this poor soul aim for neon orange, because while he doubts that'll happen he fears for his friend's mental fortitude. Who knows what a whole other fucking universe will do to him.

The human in the pair looks happier at the moment than he has in a year or more.

He's actually a little pleased to see that reaction from Hank. He changed back into this outfit to infiltrate Cyberlife, and didn't get the chance to change again later. Hank's never even seen him without the uniform.

And now he's not going to walk around with the reminder of his subjugation anymore.

But then he frowns a little.

"The only time I've ever worn anything other than this, it was whatever I could find to disguise what I was." He looks down at himself. He looks fine - he thinks. But he can't quite picture anything else he would like to wear.

"I'm not sure yet what else I would like. There are a lot of other factors involved."

Colour, fit, style, how well it fits with what other people are wearing, appropriateness, all of that at once.

But it looks like Hank is tolerating his sudden sartorial issues. In fact, he looks more at peace than Connor has ever before seen him. For that alone, Connor is glad to be here, in this odd situation, worrying about his clothes and shamelessly enabling Hank to avoid work - and avoiding his own, for that matter.

"I don't know you... you kind of look like a sweater guy. Or a polo shirt guy for summer weather." He can't quite imagine him in anything like his disguise had been; maybe that was the point. And honestly if that turned out to be his personal style preference, he wouldn't know what to think. But he'd support him. He's not going to back down on that.

"You know what? We'll figure out when we get there. I'll hold your purse while you try things on- that's a joke. Please don't actually carry a purse. I have my limits."

Purses are among them.

"And you do actually look good in blue. Just throwing that out there. You'd probably be okay in cream or beige or something, too."

Hank is aware of how nice colors work, he just chooses to ignore them.

"Sweaters and polo shirts. Got it." He responds as if Hank just gave him a command, but they both both know Connor's not going to treat it as such. If they get to the shop and he decides he prefers three piece suits, he'll do that instead.

Either way, both options for now sound perfectly sensible. He hadn't liked the clothes he disguised himself in - they were too bulky to move in easily and felt like he was going to drown in them. But they hid what he was. Everything he was. Android, deviant hunter, totally uncertain about what he was doing. A human would probably say such clothes are comfortable, but he thinks comfortable just means a different thing to him. His skin is perfectly ambivalent about this topic.

"Lieutenant--" He told himself not ten minutes ago that they're friends now. That address seems inappropriate. "Hank, I think you would be mindlessly bored waiting for me to try on clothes. You're free to do anything else you want besides...holding my purse."

...The purse he shouldn't actually get. He doesn't understand this idiom or metaphor or whatever it is, but he powers through as always.

He barely stops himself from saying that he used to go shopping with his wife all the time, he can wait with the best of them. Because for a terrified, panicked moment he's worried that he'll somehow push Connor away with the likening of the two relationships. He doesn't know why. Well, that's a fuckin' lie. He does. His wife sworn him off during one of his loneliest, hardest periods and left him wanting for company through his grief.

So that sentiment stutters in him, cuts off, makes the smile fade. At least until he can clammor onto something a little less loaded.

"Connor, I'm pretty good at just listenin' to music and waiting. I promise, now that you're not so pressed for every fuckin' second? You're probably gonna figure out lots of ways to entertain yourself when someone else is taking their sweet time. I won't even give you a limit. No five-minute warnings."

Connor's not always good at understanding why humans do things, but he's good at noticing that they do them - so he clearly sees Hank's smile falter and fall from his face. He doesn't know why, which means he doesn't know how to fix it.

"I had to convince you just to give me two extra minutes looking for a deviant," he points out, albeit not very seriously. "Let alone five to put clothes on."

He's quiet for a moment, thinking.

"I don't really know what it's like to have nothing to do. I decided to find a job, and I did. Most humans spend eight hours a day sleeping, but I don't see the point in going into eight hours of standby a night if I don't have to."

Time to find a lot of hobbies.

"I hope you know that if we were in Detroit, I would have stolen Sumo from you by now."

He would have become the most spoiled dog in the world.

Then Connor frowns. "What will happen to Sumo if you're here?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying. I won't rush you. I want to spend the time with you this time. I didn't before. I just wanted to fuckin' leave. And uh... Fowler always liked Sumo so I uh... left him to him in my will. I did that way back, before the whole drinking thing." He clarifies quickly. And he knows that Connor knows "the drinking thing" refers to much more than alcoholism.

"Considering being a cop is such a dangerous job, and after my divorce my wife had no interest in him." Which, great, his brain went there again. Connor's already better there.

"How much standby do you need?"

God he fucking wishes he could just recharge quick and be ready to go again. "...Do I need to help restart you sometimes?"

Because you need to restart a phone. You know fucking what? He means well. He really does. Let him try.

There's a lot to unpack in that statement. He can be glad that Sumo's OK and that Hank was prepared for what would happen to his dog. It's the first time Hank's mentioned his wife to him - which, even if Connor already knows about her, still means something. It's a little bit of Hank being deliberately shown to him, not that Connor just scraped up from public record.

And he realises - again - that things can change a lot in a week. Not just for Connor himself, who has not only changed as a person but become a person. But for Hank, too, who would never have wanted to spend time with an android, or been even close to that frank about his personal situation - especially to an android.

And that Hank actually wants to spend time with him, even just waiting for him, is a nice sort of feeling. Warm without overheating.

Nothing he says to this will convey how important he finds all of it. So he simply nods his understanding.

"I only need standby every couple of days for a few hours at most. Mostly for defrag and to check for errors." Then he stares, genuinely unable to tell if he's being made fun of. It takes about a second to come to the conclusion that no, he isn't. Hank's helping. Or trying to.

"No," he says slowly. "The only time I would need any help is if one of my modular components became dislodged or stuck."

That is highly unlikely, but if Hank's going to make that effort, it's only fair to try to meet him halfway.

"Right. You'll probably have to show me what to do about your modular components beforehand then." He says, without really considering everything that entails. Otherwise he'd literally just carry Connor to a technician to get repaired. Someone around here would be able to.

Odd things to consider; what to do with your partner if his arm falls off.

Definitely a lot changes have happened over a week. Here he is open to receive an instructional so he just doesn't start slapping Connor when he's not working properly, like he might shake something back into place. Unlike Connor, who didn't do him the same service. He'd get him back for that except that Connor doesn't feel pain. And he'd at least want it to sting a little. And probably be squarely and vengefully right on his ass.

"Okay, I gotta sign out if I'm gonna cut out early. See if I can take someone else's shift later. Maybe take a shower. Where should I meet you?"

"It depends on the component," he tells him, half-serious. "If my arm drops off, I trust you not to put it back on backwards. If my thirium pump drops out, maybe you should just pick it up and give it to me. If I'm still active."

...Maybe that's not a good joke.

Actually, he's a surprised Hank isn't immediately threatening to slap him and throw him in cold water. It's what Connor did. And would do again.

"If you're going to work, maybe I should find Winterbottom, Fogle and Munster and introduce myself," he says thoughtfully. "And let them know I start tomorrow because I have something very important to take care of today with a city official."

That's not even a lie.

"There's a park three blocks from here that way." He indicates the right direction. "I passed through it on the way here - I'll meet you there. It's small, we'll see each other."

And there is not a single rose or arrangement of stones to be seen.

"Yeah, if it's the park that I'm thinking of, it might come with a story. So remind me."

There was one in the city, during a celebration in his first fucking weeks there that something had happened. A cry for a revolution. A demand for people to "wake-up". A painfully familiar message.

Only this came with a bunch of innocent people taking shrapnel and those revolutionary cries immediately being silenced by totalitarian robots, the sort of dispassionate thoughtless robots that everyone feared and hated androids might become.

So it's quite a story, and not one he'll tell when he's suspecting they're being heard.

Though as he says it, he pokes Connor lightly in the stomach. And he can't tell whether it's because he's plastic under a few layers or if he's just fuckin' fit but jesus god, even at his most fit Hank didn't have a stomach that firm. Fucking hell. "I'll see you there."

"O--" He was about to say, 'OK', he'll remind Hank to tell this story about the park, but then he looks down as Hank's finger prods him in the midsection, about where a navel would be on a human.

(Connor has a "navel", but it was added for purely cosmetic purposes. He certainly doesn't have to resemble a human that realistically. In fact, it was illegal to impersonate one until recently. He doesn't fully understand some of the reasoning that went into the creation of androids along his lines.)

In any case, Hank's finger pushes on the shirt, the layer of artificial skin and then his actual plastic chassis, and only makes contact for half a second, but it's enough that Connor's looking at Hank when he pulls away, not offended, just interested in the reason for that.

"I'll see you there."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

TDM 001. WELCOME TO THE CITY

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject