Dorian, DRN-0167 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
50shadesofpurple) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sojournerdeep2016-12-25 12:24 am
50shadesofpurple) wrote in sojournerdeep2016-12-25 12:24 am
Entry tags:
[Arrival log! Open as soon as he steps out from the Room]
It isn't the voice itself that brings Dorian out of his standby mode, but the tiny itching prompt running along his neocortex like little specks of light. It suggests, in the dry, jagged tones of someone he's come to respect and count as a friend, to update your files.
It's a memory triggered by some unknown quantity, and perhaps that's why he opens his eyes some three-point-zero-zero-eight hours before schedule. What he sees is not the clinical, functional (living Hell) housing for androids in the CPD basement. It isn't Rudy's dishevelled lab space, with wires and tools and androids hanging in dust covers from the ceiling, waiting to be fixed or tweaked or brought back from an offline status.
This is different. The walls are alive with pulsating lights, very much like his own face, when accessing or correlating data.
There's not a single defect in the entire room. Everything is seamless, from floor to ceiling. Stepping out of his...now standalone standby charger, he stands inside a perfectly symmetrical, uniform, square box with rounded corners.
Not a single seam in the entire room. And then, the voice, soothing, distinctly female.
'Welcome, traveler. You have been selected for a remarkable opportunity. You are currently aboard the ship Sojourner Deep, and I am Ship's Services. It is my job to make sure you are comfortable and satisfied during your stay with us. I'm sure you have questions. May I direct you to your new feature? This is your "comm," a fully integrated communications application. You can use it to talk with other passengers, or with me. Let's get started. May I have your name?'
"Hello," he says, feeling-- uncertain of how he should feel. No time like the present to find out, though, and he's found the best way to find things out is to ask questions, whether people appreciate it or not. It's part of being a cop. What's not part of being a cop is being abducted to a completely sealed-off room in WhoKnowsWhere.
He doesn't know which is more disturbing: that he can't access the police department vi-fi network or detect any disturbance or scheduled maintenance that would explain why, or that he can't get a lock on his own location. He has a pretty impressive range, you know. How far away from the precinct is he?
"My designation is DRN dash Zero One Six Seven. You can call me Dorian. I am a police android designed to be as human as possible, while trying to prove to people I'm not a bucket of crazy just waiting to be kicked. It's not always easy to do what you're designed to."
Is she a pre-recorded message? Her sound waves/pitch/tone/background noise (or lack of it) indicate otherwise, but he could be wrong. Is she a machine? Or...something more like him?
"Sounds like you have your work cut out for you, Ship's Services. Could you define 'comfortable' and 'satisfied' for me, please?"
*
Some time later, a young man comes walking through the Arrival Plaza, lugging about what looks to be a cross between a closet and a bathtub. It doesn't seem to weigh anything, by the way he carries it, in front of himself, one hand on each side.
He's moving in a very specific trajectory, but there's something about the way he looks at things that makes him seem like a kid who's just about to get distracted by butterflies. Or...whatever those wingy things are, over there.
It's a memory triggered by some unknown quantity, and perhaps that's why he opens his eyes some three-point-zero-zero-eight hours before schedule. What he sees is not the clinical, functional (living Hell) housing for androids in the CPD basement. It isn't Rudy's dishevelled lab space, with wires and tools and androids hanging in dust covers from the ceiling, waiting to be fixed or tweaked or brought back from an offline status.
This is different. The walls are alive with pulsating lights, very much like his own face, when accessing or correlating data.
There's not a single defect in the entire room. Everything is seamless, from floor to ceiling. Stepping out of his...now standalone standby charger, he stands inside a perfectly symmetrical, uniform, square box with rounded corners.
Not a single seam in the entire room. And then, the voice, soothing, distinctly female.
'Welcome, traveler. You have been selected for a remarkable opportunity. You are currently aboard the ship Sojourner Deep, and I am Ship's Services. It is my job to make sure you are comfortable and satisfied during your stay with us. I'm sure you have questions. May I direct you to your new feature? This is your "comm," a fully integrated communications application. You can use it to talk with other passengers, or with me. Let's get started. May I have your name?'
"Hello," he says, feeling-- uncertain of how he should feel. No time like the present to find out, though, and he's found the best way to find things out is to ask questions, whether people appreciate it or not. It's part of being a cop. What's not part of being a cop is being abducted to a completely sealed-off room in WhoKnowsWhere.
He doesn't know which is more disturbing: that he can't access the police department vi-fi network or detect any disturbance or scheduled maintenance that would explain why, or that he can't get a lock on his own location. He has a pretty impressive range, you know. How far away from the precinct is he?
"My designation is DRN dash Zero One Six Seven. You can call me Dorian. I am a police android designed to be as human as possible, while trying to prove to people I'm not a bucket of crazy just waiting to be kicked. It's not always easy to do what you're designed to."
Is she a pre-recorded message? Her sound waves/pitch/tone/background noise (or lack of it) indicate otherwise, but he could be wrong. Is she a machine? Or...something more like him?
"Sounds like you have your work cut out for you, Ship's Services. Could you define 'comfortable' and 'satisfied' for me, please?"
*
Some time later, a young man comes walking through the Arrival Plaza, lugging about what looks to be a cross between a closet and a bathtub. It doesn't seem to weigh anything, by the way he carries it, in front of himself, one hand on each side.
He's moving in a very specific trajectory, but there's something about the way he looks at things that makes him seem like a kid who's just about to get distracted by butterflies. Or...whatever those wingy things are, over there.