syntech | Inbox: Upcycled

[Ethan is... predictable, in the end. It's easier to continue with something mildly problematic than it is to start over again - even if he knows he could do so, and even if it wouldn't cause that many problems in the end.

They're all here together, and he'd said it before. He doesn't have to agree with someone in order to work with them.]

{Yes.}

[There's a brief moment of trying to string together the right explanation for the time, his lips pursing.]

{It happens sometimes, usually when a synesthete is struggling with their thoughts.} [Which implies some Things.] {Trauma or exposure to trauma.

I only mention it because I'm used to a constant backdrop of music, and there is. Nothing, right now.}

[The implications aren't subtle. Connor eyes the human, mouth flattening faintly. Trauma. He wants to argue the term. He wants, almost as badly, to snap back about the entire situation. It had been Ethan's choice to get involved. If something about it had set him off... Connor hadn't asked him to come—hadn't needed—

But that's not true.]

Is there... a cure?

[Fingers twitch at his sides. He busies them straightening his jacket.]

[He also hadn't specified the when the exposure happened, which is its own funny little thing. There was no defensiveness in his posture, no judgment in his gaze. He types it like it's fact, nothing more.]

{Time, usually. I made the decision knowing the risks. It's where it stands. Why I said I would be the one struggling, so the facts are laid out and a decision can be reached.}

[As it turns out, even, Connor doesn't have to defend himself. He may as well be saying 'you owe me no faith', even if he clarifies after another moment.]

{I've worked through it before, lest you wonder. Once I can separate past from present, it shouldn't matter anyway.}

[Privately, he just hopes that takes less time this time. That he doesn't need a hand on his shoulder, a reminder of where he stands and what he can still do.]

[Oh, that explanation does fill in some gaps. Connor's eyebrows knit together slightly as he connects the dots.]

Post-traumatic stress.

[And not, apparently, new, even if helping him had triggered this episode. That's... good? He isn't sure. His social program suggests advising Ethan to find professional help.

Connor considers the "help" available here, and. Does not say that. Instead, briskly:]

If there are accommodations I should make, inform me.

[If he thinks hard enough, he might even be able to decrypt some mumblings from earlier conversations. Four years, indeed.]

{I suppose that's what they call it.}

[He almost laughs, despite himself. This is-- weird. Almost uncomfortably weird, in fact.]

{Background noise helps, but I can supply that myself. I'm not planning to put myself in sight of any more mutilated bodies, so that should be fine.}

[It's strange, how easy it is to see the twitches, the press of lips and furrow of brows that follow varied microexpressions, when you know what to look for.]

{Progress reports might need to be more common, for the moment.

But we haven't broached the subject of the actual agreement. I think, with what I've heard from Falco, we can both assume that even if I don't tell him, -51 will figure out the actual catalyst.}

[They're both investigative machines, after all.]

[Background noise. Progress reports. Connor nods, and notes privately that it was the sight of his body that set Ethan off. Obviously, he'll do his best to avoid similar sights in the future.

The topic change isn't surprising. But even as Connor starts to nod—he stills, stiffness settling back down his spine.]

It's probable.

But there's something else we should discuss first.

[Something relevant to whether they work together. Not just the details of how. If Ethan is tracking Connor's microexpressions, he'll see the moment when they go extremely blank.]

I've been reprogrammed.

[It shouldn't come as a surprise, really. Despite the fact that he'd put in an effort to stop it, he'd also been fairly clear with Admin. One try.

And then he lost the right to complain.]

.... {By the Admin?} [There's the purse of lips that suggests he knew of the possibility, again. And before Connor can get mad about it--]

{I'm sorry. I had considered mentioning it before we found you, since I only had one shot at postponing what he wanted.} [The hesitation is only in the shift of fingers, of course. The words are a steady stream.] {But there was. Enough going on already. I didn't expect you to immediately go after him. My mistake, I know.}

[That does... raise several brand new questions in the midst of this.]

[Ethan knew? A frown threatens to crack Connor's stillness, but it doesn't last. He'd known. Admin had made it clear from the first day that they had the power to do this, and only become more vivid with the threats as time progressed. Connor had always been aware what might happen to him here.

But he had to accomplish his mission. And after what the deviant had done, he hadn't much cared about threats.]

...Admin sent a proxy. Zolta.

[His LED spins: yellow. Yellow.]

I belong to her now.

[His lips purse.]

{That's... Falco called her Doctor Zolta, I think?}

[He can probably figure the unasked question. Would Sasha not have been a better choice?

He can't ask it aloud, of course. And he doesn't know what else to say, really.]

{It doesn't change my thoughts on anything involving our work. The Admin has never discouraged working on figuring the network out. Taunted me about finding him, so.}

[Shrugging, he shifts his weight. He's still... Sorry, though.]

[Ethan is... very quick with that assurance. It's telling in some ways, Connor thinks. Frustrating in others. He eyes the human, and resumes speaking.]

I will have to prioritize any tasks she assigns. If she gives me an order, I will follow it. If she tells me to stop tampering with the network...

[...Connor is obedient. The fact has never lodged in his components with quite the same weight. Of course, he's never been hacked before, either—never belonged to anyone except his makers.

Zolta might not interfere with what they've been working on. (She certainly hadn't seemed threatened by his old objectives to get home.) But... the yellow glow of Connor's LED stabilizes to a steady flicker as he continues his summary—now, with a silent transmission.]

Before she took control of my code, she wanted to know how I managed to communicate in that condition. I didn't tell her. If she asks again now, I won't be able to hold back.

[She'll find out about their private network space. About the agreement with Sasha. Which means, presumably, Admin will learn, too.]

[Ethan is impatient. His head too compromised, thoughts half-scattered. Moreover, he just... Well, he's not most.]

{It isn't the first time I'll have worked with someone under strict orders to obey an enemy, Connor. You're putting too much weight on my trusting anyone.}

[It's a cover for the connection, settling into place with the slightest slump of relief in his shoulders. Hilarious, that this would be the first moment of actual relief he felt in ages. Not alone in his head, not completely. It's hard to sever the emotion entirely from the connection, but he died what he can.]

{You're the machine, you know better than I do what options there are if she presses. If you choose to be entirely forthcoming with everything, that's your choice based on your programming. Am I supposed to get mad about a machine doing what it's programmed to?}

[His lips purse, gaze flickering on the space oddly. God, he wishes he knew if the penalty changed when it was transferred or not. He should mention it, but the conversation doesn't really have a good entry for that little tidbit just yet. If he fails to, Connor will likely catch it on the network soon.]

{Incidentally, if your connectivity back then was high enough, you could probably still have reached me here.}

Of course. Because you never trust anyone.

[Cover or no, the derisive twitch of Connor's eyebrows doesn't seem entirely feigned. His mental voice is sharper, though. And considerably more irritated.]

It's not a choice. And I'm telling you so you can do what you need to.

[Right now, Connor has no interest in betraying Ethan. Right now, he doesn't want to share their secrets. Considering how quickly either of those facts could change, the least (and most) that he can do is offer warning. What Ethan decides to do with that is his decision.

His eyes narrow slightly at the followup. Is Ethan suggesting he use that as an excuse? It isn't much of one, and he won't be able to lie if questioned.]

Not without an external network to route through.

[His own broadcasting range isn't nearly that far.]

{You're free to think whatever you want, Connor.}

[He exhales a grunt, arms crossing a bit. The reality is a bit more... complex, isn't it. But there's a lot he doesn't trust others with, even if he'll trust them with his whole-ass life right now.

He's not in the mood to elaborate anyway, and very nearly rolls his eyes at the comment. It's fair, on Connor's part, but it grates against his head with nothing to temper it.]

{Then you can rest assured that the information is appreciated.}

[Connor's decision to exactly why he mentioned it was up to him - Ethan just inclines his head absently.]

{Good to know, then. Something I can mess with later. Anything else to note?}

[In case it happens again? Maybe. It's something physical he can dive into, though. He'd... also meant to mention the penalty again, but now his head is off on another tangent.]

Machines don't want.

[The words come with a flat, insincere smile that might almost be up to Connor's usual standards of snide. The kind that declare his superior objectivity as an unbiased machine.

It's the second layer of the conversation that lags a beat in silence. There's more, but Ethan's clearly not interested in warnings. And ultimately, Connor isn't sure what else to say. Zolta has complete access. Zolta is planning more changes. But Connor isn't remotely sure to what.]

No.

[They can move on.]

{Whatever your coding toggle defines, then. Jesus, you're such a pedantic bitch sometimes.}

[Oh. That's... actually almost like him again. Almost.

Beneath it, the pause brings too much space to be natural, and his lips purse. It's at least not something that seems out of place, given the transmitted words themselves.

He's... honestly the one most impatient here and now. Everything is all fucked up and he doesn't know how to handle, like, a lot of it.]

{... If you're sure. I--}

[A pause, and the sudden haze of paranoia isn't properly cut off from the connection. The words that follow are disjointed and erratic, out of place. 'Hospital'; 'lily'; 'r̸̡̡̛͜͡҉̵̨̛́́͢͜͡͠͏̶͝҉̶̵̴̷̴̵̵̵̸̸̡̧̢̨̨̛́̀͘͘̕̕͢͟͡͠͡͝͡͡͝҉̴̷̴̷̡̧̢̢̛̛̛̀̀̕͢͟͟͟͡͞͝͞͡͞͡҉̸̴̵̵̸̷̨̨̨̢̡͘̕̕̕͟͜͠͠͠͝͝͞͏̷̧̨͏̸̢҉̷͠҉̷̀͏̵̸̴̵̶̸̧̡̢̧̧̀́́̀͘̕̕͘͜͢͠͝͝͡͝҉̨̨̨̛́́̕͟͜͟҉̶̷̶̴̡̨̢̧̧̛̛͘͘͟͢͟͢͜͡͝͠͠͏̸̸̢̢̡̛̛̀̕͟͟͠͝͠͞͏̷̧̡̡͢͡͏̶̵̵̴̴̶̡́͟͟͜͢͞͡͏̶̷̵̛́̀̕͘͟͜͞҉̵̢́̀͘͟͟͠͠͝҉̸̴̴̵̢̢̛͟͜͟͜͟͢͞e̴̛͏̴̶̢́̀͞͡v̷̶̢̛̛̛̀͘͜͢͠͝͝͏̷̵̶̴̶̨̧̢̨̧̧̛̛́́̀́́̀̕̕͢͜͟͜͟͟͟͡͞͞͝͡͡͡҉̵̶̵̨̡̨̧̨̧̢̀́̀̀̕͘͢͢͢͟͠͠͏̷̸̸̷̵̧̨̀͢͢͡͠҉͟͏̨͏̀͏҉̧̕͟҉̶̸̶̶̵͘͏̸̨̧͝͏͟͏̵̶̴̧̢̢̨̨́́̀͘͠͝͝e̷̸͘͡͏̷̸̷̡́̀́̕͠͠҉̨͘҉̷̴̨̡̧̡̨̨̢̛́̀͘͢͠͝͞҉̵̸̶̸̴̸̴̷̷̶̨̡̛̛́́́̀́̀͟͟͢͢͢͟͟͢͡͞͠͠͡͝͡҉͘͞҉͝͠͏̶̢̀͠҉̵̵̶̵̸̷̢̡̨́͘͢͢͜͝͠͝͠͠͞҉҉̸̸̵̨̢̡̛̀́́́̕͘͜͝͠͡͠͏̴̷̴̶̴̛̛̀͢͢͟͡҉̸̸̷̷̴̵̷̴̡̨̢̢̧̛́́͘͘̕͟͟͟͢͡͠͞͡͏̸̴̷̛́͘͢͡͝͏̷͠҉͏̸̸̛͏̵͘ń̵̸̸̸̢̡̨̨̛͘̕͢͜͡͏̵̸̵̵̵̨̨̧͘̕͢͜͢͡͡͠͠҉̷̷̡̧̛̕͟͢͞͠҉̶̢͝͏̵̵̸̢̛͜҉̶̸̴̵̴̧̢̢̧̢̛̀͜͜͟͠͡҉̴̢̀͠҉̵̵̷̨́̀́̕͜͢͝͠͞͠͠͠҉̴͏̷̷̧̧̢͢͝͏̶̶̧͘͘͡͞g̢̧͢͏̴̛̕͠͏̸̡̡͠҉̛͏̵̶̸̨͏̵̡̡̧̢̛́͘͘͜͢͏̨̧̕͠͏̴̴̵́͘̕͢͜͢͢͠͠҉̶̵̶̨̡̨̨̧̢̡̧̧̧̡̨́́͘͢͢͜͟͠͠͡͝͏̸̵̴̵̴̷̶̵̶̡̡̢̢̡̛̀́̕͘͢͟͞͡͡͞͞͡͠҉̵̷̷̶̷̶̸̨̨̨̛̛͘͜͜͡͡͡͞͡͝҉̡̢̛͠҉̸̵̸̶̨̡̨̛̛̀͘͟͡͝͝͡͝͠͏̶̢́͜͟͢͜͞͡҉̨͜͠͞͞͝͝҉̸҉̛͢͟͟͟͢͟҉҉̢͟͏̶̸̧̧̢̨̢̕͘͜͢͢͜͢͟͝͝͠͏̶̵̵̶̢̨̕͘͘͘͢͟͜͝͏̵̵̸̶̶̸̵̵̢̨̨̧̡̀̀͘̕͘̕̕͜͟͟͟͢͠͠͝͞͠͠͞͝͡͞҉̸̨̢̕͞͏̵̛͘͘͟͞͞͝҉͠ȩ̶̷̧̡͘͡͞҉̸̶̷̶̴̵̶̷̧̡̧̀̀̕͘͢͜͢͝͞͡҉̵̸̷̴̢̢̢̨̛̛́͘͘̕͘͜͜͜͡͠͡͏̶̸̷̴̴̸̴̡̧̀̀́̀͘͜͟͜͜͜͟͢҉͟҉҉̴̡̡́͟͟͏̷́͘͞͞͏͘͝͏̸̶̵̶̴̨̡̧̢̨̛̛̛́̀̀̕̕̕͟͟͜͟͝҉̶̢͏̶́́͠͠'; they're swiftly supplanted with the firm stamp of 'NOT HERE'. There's a lot more at play, and whatever else is going on is definitely something Ethan's struggling with - and will probably continue to struggle with - keeping separate from the here and now.]

{... I'm pretty sure they're watching me. Not here, but outside.}

[He certifies it despite that outburst and subsequent shoving aside of... whatever else, which is at least notable.]

Analysis.

[Not 'coding toggle'. The single dry correction is all the external show will get; Connor is quickly and immediately distracted by the flurry of junk data sent through his private call. His brow furrows—is this some kind of software glitch?—and he nearly severs the line entirely before intelligible words come through.

For a given metric of 'intelligible', anyway.]

They?

[It takes a moment, and Ethan runs a hand through his hair. There's not much to say to that - they think of these things differently, in the end - so he doesn't.

What Connor hears isn't junk data, but that's probably a better assumption on his part. Figuring out how human minds interact with machinery has... Never really happened, after all. Regardless, Ethan's quiet for a moment, chewing his lip as he slots information where it belongs.]

{Sorry. Lost focus, better now. The 'staff' here. It's something that happened that night. It's like someone installed a physical keylogger. Tracks movement, but nothing deeper.}

[The likelihood of him just creating that feeling out of the stress of everything is... Quite low. He's paranoid, but not that paranoid.]

[Silence makes a poor cover. But Connor's honestly unsure whether they're still bothering with the external pretense, and he'll follow suit for now.]

A tracker.

[Connor has one of those. Zolta, he supposes, now has access to it. Though if the new program she'd installed worked as it should, it's probably redundant. Still, wouldn't the phones report their position too? Including Ethan's? ]

How did you find out about it?

[Honestly, he doesn't care all that much. This is how it's been, after all.]

{Something like it. Might seem like nothing, in light of everything, but it's new to me. Something that wouldn't happen normally unless I really fucked up.}

[That's the issue, really, and he pauses again before answering. Considers whether or not to explain. It's a coin flip whether or not it'll make a difference, after all.]

{Because I nearly passed out from the pain when it showed up.} [Cryptic, that. But he continues:] {As it turns out, the Admin wasn't lying to me. You can, in fact, transfer death penalties from person to person. I'm not sure if it's the same one you were supposed to get, or just one that he knew would drive me absolutely nuts.}

[It's really 50/50. A penalty tracker could have been a chance to hopefully prevent -60 from further action... but it's also just as likely he'd have skipped it altogether, under normal circumstances.]

[It's a good thing they've apparently elected not to care about convincing anyone. Connor's freeze might otherwise be telling. His stare shifts minutely: pieces sliding into place. His mouth opens. And closes, but the sharp, stiff tone carries to the private call as well.]

You took the penalty.

[He'd woken up functional. Intact, with limbs and eyes and everything else that he'd been stripped of. He'd been too desperate to keep them to stop for a more detailed inspection, and after, he'd assumed it was deliberate. Why sabotage something you were intending to own?

It figures Admin wouldn't be nearly so sensible.]

Why?

[Why is the question of the week, and it will continue as such until he'd like to scream for being asked, likely. His reasons aren't even all that solid - so much is impulse and memory, the very real factor of a human with human logic and emotions. He sighs, running a hand through his hair.]

{In part, testing the information I'd been given. But... I also figured you had been through enough, after all.

You don't owe me anything for it, obviously. It was my choice to do, after all.}

[He adds the clarification to stave off any protest Connor might have about the exact whys of his actions. Sure, there's some sentimentality beyond it, but the base reason is just that.]

[Connor's brows furrow, eyes flitting from point to point: scanning Ethan's breath and heartbeat, gestures and expression. He's not lying, but the explanation still doesn't make sense. No more than his assisting in the first place had.

...Human attachment.]

I don't.

[Connor hadn't asked for that. He wouldn't have, even if he'd known of the possibility. Nothing Admin was likely to inflict would have been worse than continuing without dying.

...]

You said you wanted to make a new agreement.

[Humans had the most baffling strength in attaching whatever meaning they wanted to things, didn't they? Ethan, of course, is no different. He sees things in his way, and acts in whatever way suits him.

Connor's response is no more or less than expected, though he suspects, perhaps, that there's a little more behind the scenes by now. It's almost impossible that anything worth calling itself an android or artificial intelligence wouldn't have some thoughts in the face of human unpredictability.]

{I did say so, yes.

Strictly speaking, we probably don't need much at this point. But if you have limitations, then that's that.

It goes without saying that we should avoid actions that could inconvenience the work, but I don't really have any strict requirements anyway. I just want progress.}

[Same as before. And like before, he has some other things he'd like, but half of them are covered with the new ownership anyway. Besides, he's expecting he's burned bridges more now than ever.]

[The furrow in Connor's expression... lingers. He'd expected new requirements, or at least a refutation of the old ones. Even if attachment had been the motivation for the human's help, he knew he'd gone above and beyond what they'd agreed on. Was 'progress' really all he wanted in return?]

That's it?

[Ethan's head tilts at the question, mild confusion similarly evident in his face.]

{I mean, we can define an entire list of parameters of you want, but basically, yeah? We're not all that different in this front, I think. I want to succeed in something.

What's bothering you about it?}

[either he's lying, or it really is that simple. At least there's the option of clarification?]

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