the head | the hand (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
headandhand) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dualisooc2019-05-26 06:08 pm
headandhand) wrote in dualisooc2019-05-26 06:08 pm
Entry tags:
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...
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...
no subject
"I would be better at secretarial work." He steps back to let the next person use the terminal, frowning at the words on his slip of paper. "This is like expecting you to be a optician just because you're a human with eyes."
He's a little better at breaking machines than fixing them - besides, most machines don't have the simple modular components androids were built with.
"I don't see any employees." But then he looks directly at Hank, the ghost of a grin touching his eyes. "Officer, I'd like to register an official complaint."
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"I know you didn't have a job before. It was labor, it wasn't a job." It was slavery. "But you do have skills that you like to use, and like any asshole out of college you're allowed to use them like internship experience and say, 'Hey, I can do this'."
Hank still would absolutely call this fucker a roomba, though. Except with no animosity in mind.
"I'll go tell 'em you fucked it up. And I'll enjoy it 'cause I'll get to tell 'em you fucked it up." He gives his shoulders a friendly, teasing jostle. It's always funny how stiff and sturdy this fuckin' twink is when he puts his hands on him.
no subject
His brain helpfully informs him that the last time Hank grabbed him, it was to hug him. The time before that was to threaten him. This is neither.
"I know," he says, making it casual. Good-natured. He isn't angry about this. Not in the way he thinks North or Markus would be. More like... "It's irritating. I have skills that could be put to better use than fixing cleaning equipment."
He's on the verge of correcting his partner - no, not his partner, not anymore. His friend - when he realises that was teasing. He did not break the terminal.
"I'll join you," he says, barely shifting under the light shoving motion of Hank's shoulders. "We can convince them I'm utterly incompetent with machinery and should be reassessed immediately."
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"Come on, Connor." He slings his arm around his shoulders to lead him towards some overseeing worker. He's so glad to see him that the poor android is just going to have to bear the weight of a broad, heavy-set drunkard's affections until he gets worn out with them. Good thing the prototype model RK800 came in the sturdy build.
"Come on, tell me some of your skills you actually like using. Leaving out the whole tasting things bit. I could see you ending up as a food quality tester if you weren't careful and God hates me more than I thought."
no subject
He's still got a few processes dedicated to this as the rest focus on the question.
"I like being a detective." Simple. But that's what he was programmed to do. What does he like about it? "I like solving problems - the clues might be vague or difficult to make sense of, but they're there and they fit together somehow, even if nobody can work it out."
It occurs to him that he only really likes that satisfying feeling because that was programmed into him too.
"I like learning about people," he offers, a little more tentatively. "I'd like to be able to learn about them when they're alive, too."
... He wraps an arm around Hank's back. Not holding him up or really holding him, just. There. And it's fine. The world doesn't immediately end.
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He notices that thin arm come up behind his back and just rest there, like it needed to situate itself perfectly on in the space or there'd be a mismatch that'd trigger a Spielburgian trap of some sort. He gives his partner's shoulders an encouraging squeeze at the gesture.
"If it interests you and makes you happy and you're good at it, you're allowed to say so. You can want things for yourself. Fuck the police." He knows it's a dumb joke, but he'll just live with it happily now that he's made it.
He gives Connor a genuine smile, a touch off-kilter, before loosening his hold and heading over to one of the people running the machines, fussing with the jacket to his uniform. The problem with putting on weight? it means that nothing fits quite right, even when it's tailored to do so.
no subject
He doesn't understand Hank's reference and has no Internet access here to find out (there is no Internet in this world, not the one in their world), but he does understand the tone of voice people use when they're making a reference. It's a very specific kind of tone, he's learned. And he understands the meaning anyway. So...
"Yeah. That." Fuck the police, indeed.
...Beat.
"Aren't you the police?"
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But in the meantime he goes to sweet talk the assistance officer available. Hank can be as coarse as a hedgehog or he can be a friendly soft bear when he needs to be, that big warm sort of guy people want to listen to and talk to. That's what he calls on, and within half a minute he's coming back to Connor.
"You're good for another go."
Then back to the subject at hand.
"'Fuck the police' is an anti-authoritarian resistance slogan. I'm being a douchebag and using it ironically."
no subject
It's interesting too just how many different faces humans can put on when they need to. Connor has his interrogation mode (not literally a mode, but still), but apart from that he feels like he's only ever just one kind of Connor. Hank seems to flip a switch on the way over to the attendant and become an entirely different kind of person. The kind of person people want to help, confide in even.
Maybe Connor can learn that too.
"That was easy," is all he remarks about it when Hank returns, though. "So let's try it again."
As he approaches another terminal to start re-entering...maybe not exactly the same answers, he says to Hank, "I could have guessed the last part."
Did he just call Hank a douchebag? Maybe.
no subject
But he waits as Connor puts in new suggestions, crossing his arms to keep himself from drumming his hands and fidgeting. He'd been whining to enough people about Connor, worrying how the android would get along without him. It's a more relevant fear than most people would think.
As much as he wishes Connor wasn't wrapped up in this mess, he'd rather he be with someone that would keep him in a safe situation.
"I should show you around. Try to find some live music or somethin'." It's been an interest of his anyway, wanting to look into a case that he really probably shouldn't be investigating but is anyway. Might as well get more quality time in with Connor while he's grotesquely misusing his time.
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He answers the questions again - job experience, height, weight, number of wisdom teeth, time spent in education, preference - cats or dogs, several other questions of varying levels of relevance to jobseeking. (Short but intensive, tall, surprisingly heavy, four pseudo-enamel objects attached to his jaw that could perform the function of teeth if he wanted them to, none, dogs) He's tapping away at the screen, face set in concentration.
"I'd like that," he says without breaking pace. "I've never had the free time before, come to think about it."
'Come to think about it', as if he hasn't been very aware that he's gone from having his entire days planned out for him in lists literally before his very eyes of objectives nested in order to priority and timescale to having his vision obstructed with...nothing. Nothing except...
"Secretary," he announces, and his photographic memory allows him to pinpoint the precise moment irony really did strike, "for, ah, Munster, Fogle and Winterbottom... Magical purging and cleansing, sacrifice provision and ritual site purification."
He blinks several times.
"Maybe I should go back to the Roombas."
(Not really.)
no subject
If the guy's name is Eddie he'll just fucking fling himself through a window. He's met fucking X-men and heard references to Gotham fucking city. Hank's not a nerd by a reach, unless sports fan and music elitist counts, but he knows enough to know that this isn't right.
He is, admittedly, disappointed that the result wasn't police. But he also realizes that Connor needs a chance to do something for himself. Even if, technically, this isn't for himself. But he has a more important focus than that.
"What sort of place would you like to go to? You gotta have thought of something."
no subject
As if it's that simple. His LED goes yellow, just for a moment.
"I'll keep you posted," he says, and this time pockets the paper without any more complaint. Besides, magic? Ritual? This sounds impossible, but the mere fact that it's here and Hank has made no comment about it, along with some of the other things he's already seen, take it from impossible to downright probable.
"In Detroit I did." His voice is thoughtful. "I've been to the TV tower but I've never watched TV. I noticed you watch basketball - I thought maybe I could start there. I was going to ask you if I could walk Sumo sometimes.
"But now I have a job at a firm that says it deals in magic. We could spend a year exploring just this city and not understand half of it. So honestly, right now I want to get started."
It sounds like he's turning Hank down, but, "I want to start with what you think is most interesting about it."
... But actually, he's just turning the question back round on Hank.
no subject
"They have TV and internet here." Hank comments, leaning in. "They're also editing and censoring a lot of the internet and television. No divergent opinions. They have robots to enforce it- they're not like you. They're not intelligent enough to go deviant except in the fuckin' sci-fi 'autopilot gone wrong' way." As if their world hadn't progressed to the point that the probabilities of 'science fiction' were very real. The evidence of which stands before him.
But the warning is important. What they say is being watched.
"Well, they do have games here. Music." He'd heard about speakeasies and the like. Places people could go to speak more freely. He might be a cop, but he's not above having a good time.
"The most interesting thing is probably the people, I'll be honest. Give me all the shit available in the world, fuckin' cybernetic modifications out the wa-fuckin'-zoo, and I'd rather sit on a bench and watch aliens and mutants walk past any day. So I'll take you somewhere where we can watch and maybe meet some things that aren't human or are your type of android."
no subject
But it's over almost immediately, Hank pulling his hand away and leaving the odd reaction to subside by itself.
He remembers he felt something slightly similar when Hank hugged him, back at the Chicken Feed, though that was more like a moment of overheating in his chest that he pondered and pondered before realising maybe that's why humans like to hug one another - he learned something about being human that day. And about being a deviant android - about being Connor, now that Connor can be anything he wants.
Maybe that's a person who likes hugs.
His LED doesn't stay blue for long, though; Hank is describing a totalitarian regime, one which they have no power to leave, no real ability to. A place where not just the androids are slaves, but to a degree, the humans too. The dim yellow light casts his temple a flickering orangish colour as the LED spins, and silently, he nods. Message understood.
He'll think about the implications and what that means for him and Hank and what measures they can take later; now, suddenly reminded of Amanda monitoring his every move (albeit inside his very mind), he tries to seamlessly let the conversation move on.
It's not very difficult; he likes talking to Hank about things that aren't their old case, as it turns out.
"Then let's go," he says, absently rubbing his hands against one another. "Munster, Fogle and Winterbottom will still be there tomorrow."
...As they start walking, he can't resist asking, "What do you mean by mutant?"
no subject
But. Right. Mutants.
"There are all kinds of things here, but I'm talkin' mutants with superpowers. Like fuckin' comic book bullshit mutants." Hank's never been a huge comics guy. What he does know he's absorbed from pop culture. Running by his sister on his way outside as she watched saturday morning cartoons and overhearing the opening cords of the X-Men show theme. Watching Batman movies while trying to slip his fingers through the hand of his date and then smelling the popcorn butter on them after several washings. Making fun of another patrolman with a 'Nananananana Mattman' and 'you are the night' jokes when he was younger. It's that sort of superficial absorption that means he couldn't tell you who an obscure character was, but it means when someone said they had a run in with the Hulk he could boggle a bit.
And enough that he could point out unusual, inhuman people with his partner.
"Fuckin' Winterbottom," he says outloud, shaking his head with the edge of a growing smile. It's just a funny name, sparking that juvenile in him that's easy to entertain.
no subject
But then he's quiet for a moment. It sounds like Hank means humans with a genetic mutation that gives them abilities beyond that of a normal human. It's a motif common in comic books, but here it's reality.
"What kind of superpowers? What can they do?"
This is clearly the interesting part, not the scientific improbability of it all.
no subject
"Well the kid I talked to said he used to be able to learn whatever the people around 'em knew, like skills and stuff. Until another mutant made him and a bunch of other mutants regular humans. Which I don't fuckin' get. Apparently there's another guy, not a mutant, that can fuckin' cast spells of some sort, and he has a friend that gives him shit for his outfit choices." For wearing a lot of belts. "So I'm guess you'll empathize because of the shirt thing.
"The cops at the precinct have been better than Gavin Reed for the most part. They're not too bad. Not all of 'em human, either."
In fact while there are a lot of people that look human, he's learned already that a fuckload of them aren't. Connor here is a prime example.
no subject
"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.
no subject
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.
no subject
"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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
"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.
no subject
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.
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