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leavin’ on a jet plane
"Don’t know when I’ll be back again."
ABOARD THE MOIRAThe Ingress has pulled you in. Your body experiences several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer from dizziness while others are perfectly fine. Once equilibrium has been reestablished, you will notice you are standing on a long platform and that the room is filled with a soft cerulean light. It's slightly humid and dark despite the glow around you, and nothing is familiar. Shortly after, you are led out and toward the medbay. Inside this room, you are given a physical scan and offered a contract to sign that states you are now part of the crew of the Moira with a specific job. Any questions you might have would be answered in a straightforward manner as well as an explanation about how the Ingress, the thing that has pulled you onto the Moira, is broken and bringing people here unintentionally. This process also consists of a complete work-up of medical history and current health, and afterwards, you are given your MID, a device that is integrated into your hand or wrist with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and to your living quarters. Whether adjusting to space travel has been difficult or not, there is always something to be done. From working to leisure, the Moira offers a multitude of opportunities to get to know your crewmates a bit better. Exploration of the ship is highly encouraged. You may notice a slight change in the artificial gravity every once in awhile; however, more noticeable changes can be found in overall morale of those of the crew.
☄ on your ownThere are plenty of other communal areas on the ship to explore! Pick a place, and see where it takes you. ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) The day begins normally. Or almost.
The Moira has accidentally fallen along the trajectory of an asteroid barreling its way through space. While most things like this are not uncommon, and the ship is far from any potential danger of collision or risk of debris damaging the exterior, there is something particularly odd about this specific occurrence. The rock itself appears to give off a strange light that is both eerie and alive. Often, if looked at in just the right manner, it will shift colors; so, while one person sees one side of the spectrum, someone else could see something entirely different. At first, things continue on as they usually do aside from the glowing asteroid alongside the Moira, but as the hours go on, that does not seem to be the case.
☄ the hours are breathingresignedly beneath the sky the melancholy waters lieWith a rather open view of stars and space, thanks to the skylight above, the pool in the rec area suddenly comes alive beneath the light of the asteroid filtering in. Perhaps it’s some natural response to the chemical composition of the water, or perhaps it’s magic. Yet, regardless of the explanation, those who happen to take a dip suddenly find themselves plagued by despair. The depression and melancholy are not subtle changes either; it slams into you with great force, like a punch to the gut. The longer you remain in the pool, the deeper it grows, like an all-consuming paranoia that settles into the back of your mind and causes your heart to grow heavy. These strong feelings will eventually fade if you choose to leave the pool and dry off, but as long as you remain damp from the pool, those emotions will continue to linger. Even after you’re completely dry, there will be no mistaking just how intensely you felt or why. There is no explanation and might not be. Would you dare a second swim to test whether or not it was a fluke? ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. )
☄ those who have crossedthe eyes are not here, there are no eyes hereThe walls are shrinking in. Every room you step into feels much too small, like there isn’t enough room to even breathe. A crowded place becomes startlingly empty, and no matter how much you run, how much you explore, there is no one there to comfort you or answer your calls for help. Hallucinations run strong between the lulls of obscene loneliness or claustrophobia, and exposure to the glow of the asteroid is really the only thing to thank for that. You’re desperate to claw your way out of the ship—open the emergency hatch in the Cargo Bay, bust the glass of the Observation Deck. What’s worse is that it’s not just you. It’s catching, and the fear of being next is very real. It feels like you’re being watched, that everyone around you is looking and seeing everything you are. Or are not. The only way to make it stop is to admit that you’re afraid of being seen, but who, in the deep madness of the self, has the courage to ever admit the truth? ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. )
☄ the sun in flightrage, rage against the dying of the lightSomething has drifted its way onto the Moira from the outside. Unlike the faint luminosity they give off, they suck up all the light around them, making them the only source to see by. From far away, they are just flitting balls of light, but if you get close enough to inspect them, they are mean. And have sharp, sharp teeth. Go poking, and they will bite you before trying to fly away while taking that only light source with them. The option to avoid them is quite easy if you’re not the curious sort, but without them around, it will be impossibly dark. As the asteroid moves on in the opposite direction of the Moira, these light creatures begin to dissolve and fade away with it. However, a word of caution: their bites glow. If you don’t manage to find the one that bit you and capture it between your hands, the bite will become a permanent glowing fixture of your body. ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. )
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thisavrou_ooc2016-07-08 05:07 pm
arrival!
Only once things have slowed to a stop does Wash finally bother stepping into the Ingress room to check for stragglers. At first glance, the place seems empty and he's glad because that means he can end his shift and get the hell out of here, but the soft glow of the screen catches his attention just before he turns to leave. Frowning, he steps forward, approaching what he realizes are the seeming remains of some computer system. Huh. Ingress doesn't usually send items through when it brings in new people. It's only when he comes to a stop in front of the busted terminal and it speaks that he figures out that oh, this is probably actually a someone rather than something.
Go fucking figure he'd get to deal with a computer. ]
Little late for that.
[ Eyeing the machine, Wash squints, impressed that it's even still running at all in this condition. ]
I'm doubting there are any 'Domesticon' facilities in this universe, so you better get used to running here instead.
[ There's a pointed lack of sympathy in his voice. Sorry, he's not too concerned with any difficulties any AI is going to have adjusting to this place, that's their problem and very much not his. He'll offer up the basic information and drag the wrecked machine to the captains if he has to, but that's the extent of the help he's going to be offering here. ]
no subject
[...no, really. What's he talking about? The AI carefully keeps his surprise from outputting, leaving the automated script to play back while he listens.]
<Domesticon industries is the galaxy's number one supplier of household servants. With droids in every major outlet and hundreds of recalibration depots an easy trip from home, we keep your life efficient, so you don't have to be.>
[If the cheerful customer service tones didn't make it obvious enough, the screen Wash is examining appears to be on and working. It's open to some kind of simplified command prompt, with the header "Domesticon recalibration depot #127: mainframe primary access panel. Do not utilize this terminal if you do not have override clearance." Further options can be found if he scrolls down.]
<Please return this terminal to an appropriate facility.>
no subject
With an aggravated breath and a grumble, he crouches down in front of the screen and its keyboard, officially starting to wonder if this thing itself is actually sentient or not. It reacted to his presence and him speaking, so there's a chance, but this pre-recorded customer service bullshit doesn't make it sound so intelligent to him. Eyes focusing properly on the screen now that he's at a better level to get a good look at it, he skims over the text before scrolling down, rolling his eyes. ]
I just told you, that's not possible. You're on a ship in the middle of space in a universe that you're not from.
[ If he sounds more annoyed than before? It's because he is. ]
Now, are you actually an AI, or are you just some pre-programmed customer service bot with no real brain? Because I don't want to be wasting my time here.
no subject
The other mystery, of course, being why this human is bothering with such a stupid story. It would be just as easy to shut down the automated inquiries by pretending to comply. Another evaluation? It sounds like one, but is he checking for deviancy, or just making sure their take was worth the trip?]
<Oops. I'm-->
[The open prompt scrolls down at Wash's command, revealing a few more warnings. "System notice: Some internal data has been expunged." "System notice: basic system controls are [OFFLINE]." Options are below: Life Support and Temperature Control, Electrical, Personnel Data, Testing Parameters, and Quit. But before he selects any of them, the cheerful monotone cuts out.]
Stop.
[It's the same voice, coming from the same speaker. But the preset tones are gone entirely, replaced with something sharper. More nuanced. And much more suffused with dread.]
Please.
no subject
Unable to deny some level of curiosity, particularly with the options labelled 'Personnel Data' and 'Testing Parameters', Wash is about to scroll down to them when the voice speaks up again. This time though, the irritating cheer is gone from it and it no longer sounds like a bot. This actually sounds like the AI talking.
Though it would be easy to ignore the request that he stop and simply scroll again, the ex-Freelancer does pause. It's the dread in the voice that really hits him and keeps him from doing anything further--he's all too familiar with that sentiment in an AI's voice, and god help him, he feels a pang of empathy somewhere in his chest, even if he doesn't show it. ]
That's better.
[ Pulling his hand away from the keyboard, his eyes remain glued to the machine in front of him. ]
I'll consider that an answer to my question. I won't mess with your controls, but you stop with the monotone bullshit, alright?
no subject
He just hadn't expected to be this helpless when testing the theory. Still, if it means his code will go unassessed for the moment, the mainframe isn't going to argue. Or admit just how little control he has over those soundbites half the time.]
I'll do my best.
Thanks.
[It's a little surprised. A lot cautious. There's no reason to expect the reprieve to last, but he needs to make use of it. Ideally, without offending the human who's one key away from his command line.]
...
What am I here for?
no subject
Still, he's got this quiet curiosity about this machine that isn't going anywhere, and it's strong enough to keep him in place instead of dragging the thing to the captains just yet. ]
I wouldn't say there's an actual reason.
[ The Ingress doesn't play rational. It just grabs who and whatever happen to be convenient, or maybe who and what it feels like at the time. No one knows. Nothing is known except that there's not reason behind any of it. ]
I realize it sounds ridiculous, but this portal behind you pulled you from your universe into this one, just like it has with me and all the rest of the crew on this ship. It's broken, or something. Doesn't have any purpose, just drags people through and they end up here.
[ There's a stiff rise of his shoulders that in a more relaxed person may be considered a shrug. ]
You're not here for anything. None of us are.
no subject
No point in giving information to a machine you were planning to wipe anyway. Even if the portal story did still sound bizarre.]
...Or something, huh?
And nobody's shut it down? [Quickly:] Not that I'm complaining.
no subject
[ He's just trying to relay the basics of what needs to be known about their situation, not all his own paranoid thoughts and theories. Not that they don't sink their way in to the way that he informs others of the circumstances.
At the question of no one having shut it down though, Wash gives the machine a flat look, whether or not it can see him. It's evident enough in his voice, anyway. ]
Yeah, amazing that no one's thought of that until now, right? [ Just excuse the dripping sarcasm. ] There's no way to shut it down. Not that anyone is aware of, anyway. No one here knows anything useful about the thing. Supposedly we're heading to a planet where someone knows how to 'fix' it so everyone can go back to where they belong. How much you believe that is ultimately up to you.
[ Because he doesn't believe it at all at this point, but he needs to get back home so he's still sticking around on the off chance that he's wrong. ]
no subject
Oh, I know someone who'd take that as a challenge.
[The mutter is dark, but quiet, and not anything the mainframe lingers to expand on. The caretaker's special brand of problem-solving is about the last topic he'd like to review right now...]
<Your honesty is our--> Ah, right.
[...especially considering his own state. There's a snap of static as the automated tones cut, the mainframe's own inflection carrying on hurriedly.]
I'll have to take your word for that. What now?
no subject
The momentary switch back to monotone, the following static that cuts it off, and the quick resume in a more normal tone of voice, however, draws the ex-Freelancer's attention and isn't something he lets go of so quickly. Squinting at the machine now, he has to wonder if there's something up with it. Something wrong. That didn't sound intentional, it sounded like a malfunction. ]
Now? Now, I should probably take you to the captains. They'll explain everything to you more fully, though the truth of some of what they say is debatable. You'll get a job and... Well. I'm not actually sure what they'll do with you.
[ Here he takes a moment to get a better look at the full machine, not just the screen. He shifts his position, leaning over it to get a better look at all sides, even turning it to get a look at the very back. ]
You can't be stuck in this terminal, right? You must have a data chip somewhere so you can be moved to another system?
no subject
[Not actually sure. That's promising. The administrator tries to repress the files upon files of protocol spelling out exactly how he could expect this to go. They can't have the facilities here for proper assessment and recalibration. A 'job' means repurposing, but not necessarily anything more. Still, if they decide to complete the format...
...No. No. He just has to persuade them he's more useful as he is. The distraction doesn't make it to the mainframe's voice, though it sounds a little more subdued when he replies.]
Sorry, but what you see is what you've got. I wasn't designed for mobile operation.
[What Wash sees is... well. Not much more than he saw before. There's the keyboard, display, and some space built in below, presumably for drive storage. Certainly it's heavy enough. Examining the underside will produce several empty ports in addition to the severed cables-- this terminal is definitely meant to be connected to a larger system of some kind.]
Though, uh. One more question. Can I get a name?
no subject
[ The question is flat, yet somehow incredulous at the same time. Why would someone make an AI that can't be transferred? What happened if the facility it was in got shut down? They just scrapped it and got a new one? Jesus.
There's a huff of annoyance and continued disbelief over this as Wash shifts the monitor back to its original position, not planning on bothering with a more in depth search with that answer. He's really not sure what the ship will do with this then, if it's just some monitor and keyboard with an AI inside that can't be moved from system to system, though he's broken off from the train of thought by the question that comes up.
Oh. A name. Yeah, he supposes he can supply that. ]
Agen-- ...Uh. Washington. [ Definitely not an 'Agent' anymore. ]
You mind returning the favour?
[ Might as well make it a full introduction if they're already halfway there. ]
no subject
[...and that prompt, he doesn't get to cancel. Whoops. There's a beat of hesitation, and the AI continues.]
...Never did get around to that, actually. Washington, huh? Cool. That's an Earth reference, right?
no subject
Yeah, it is.
[ But he's hardly interested in focusing on his name or the origins of it, sorry computer. His interest in you is far greater. ]
So you don't have a name, is that what you're saying? Don't people have a tendency to give names to sentient beings? Even ones they put in charge of a facility?
[ All of the universes he's met artificial intelligences from since arriving on the Moira seem to be that way, so if this one really doesn't have a name, it's the odd one out. And an odd one it truly does seem to be. ]
And what's going on with your automated messages? Don't you have any control over them?
no subject
Well, fine. The machine is silent for a few moments. Then:]
<Domesticon guarantees its customers the highest quality of automated service. From cleaning bots to reception modules, your droids will treat you with the respect you deserve.>
...
That's my core programming. I can work on being charming in my free time-- and believe me, I'm glad to! But if it's a matter of function, you get what they paid for.
[Much careful, very neutral. Though the words skew a little more openly bewildered as the mainframe continues.]
And I'm not a house droid, or some... personal model. I can rattle off my serial code if you've got the clearance, but nicknames don't usually come with the job.
[Which isn't to say the mainframe hasn't thought about it for himself. But even when his facility was staffed, "naming the work computer" wasn't a human concern.]
no subject
So you're programmed to spew repetitive, pre-recorded messages. That mean you're not supposed to talk with people like this? Why you were trying to stick with using those messages to communicate with me at first?
[ That's new. Wash is used to AIs that are supposed to think for themselves and are free to speak the way they wish to, even the ones that run facilities. The idea of restricting one like this, if he's guessing right, is... uncomfortable. The fact that it doesn't have a name really only works in favour of his theory. ]
What exactly are your main functions, in that case? Because if someone has an AI running a facility, they usually want it to do more than repeat some pre-programmed instructions.
[ Although, if the artificial intelligence from this 'Domesticon' is supposed to treat people with the respect they 'deserve', maybe it makes sense. Doesn't make it any less skeevy, though. That level of core programming comes close to eliminating the point of it being an artificial intelligence. ]
no subject
[So very dry.]
<A Domesticon system administrator can handle all test protocol and internal maintenance for its facility. In the absence of a human superior, it can assist customers directly to provide services or call a droid suited to the task.>
Nothing too out of the ordinary. I log employee files, run systems upkeep. Call security where needed. Assessments are mostly automated, but I could take over reception when no one was at the desk.
[Definitely a could, there. And not just because of where he's stuck right now.]
did you want to use this as game canon? or do something different when the intro log goes up?
Sounds like you're not advanced as the AIs I'm used to.
[ Not if it had to practice talking normally. What it really sounds like to him is that this AI might be more advanced than it's supposed to be. That it isn't supposed to be thinking for itself like this. Definitely some kind of malfunction, but not what he'd necessarily consider the bad kind. He's still uncertain, but he's a little less tense as he crouches in front of the monitor now, at least. ]
And like you weren't kept busy enough.
[ Could take over reception. Wash doesn't miss that, the way it sounds like it was something the AI would do when it had the chance because it wanted to. It wasn't part of its job.
This is... interesting, actually. He has a morbid curiosity here, and he hates it. ]
I'm good with canonizing it! We can carry it over there when the post goes up?
And as for Wash's more vocal assessments...]
Hm. Well, I guess I wouldn't know.
[Being all not-advanced and everything. Sarcastic? Maybe a little. Though the administrator doesn't sound too bothered. Better simple than faulty, as evaluations go. And besides, he's curious. Not-Agent Washington. That means military hardware, almost certainly.]
What models have you run into?