I don't know. [Frowning.] I don't have a traditional sense of taste, so to speak. My software to provides feedback on the samples I ingest. But this time, there was... nothing.
[tfw you have no happy/comforting memories associated with food.]
[The pain in her leg and the ache along her entire body is starting to subside. She should look happy, maybe, and there is a genuine warmth in her expression; it’s just that it’s also laced with melancholy and some other strong emotion.]
There was this ice cream shop my family used to go to together. In the summers, we’d stop there before we went to this orchard nearby, and Connor and I would...
[There’s a brief pause before she decides to clarify, given the name.]
My brother’s name was Connor, sorry. Anyways - it tastes just like that ice cream.
It's always this topic that leaves him at a loss, huh. The death of a loved one. The grief of having lost (a son) a brother... Connor doesn't have anything to compare it with. He wasn't programmed to provide comfort, only to complete his mission as efficiently as possible. He wasn't programmed to deal with this at all.]
... I'm sorry, Zoe.
[He doesn't know how he's supposed to react. Not really. He scrambles for something to say, but. Well. All he can think of is very factual. Very not comforting.]
It's... strange that the flavors would be different. Both pieces were one square.
[Just like when they were back in the house, Connor's expression becomes shuttered. He glances off to the side, breaking eye contact as he breaks off another piece from his remaining share of ambrosia.]
Lieutenant Hank Anderson. [...] My partner.
[It's fine.]
Based on your question, I assume you saw someone else.
They've killed and injured humans, and have committed acts vandalism in the name of "freedom." They're machines, but they refuse to submit to their masters. They'll cause a civil war if I don't stop them, Zoe.
[... He frowns, eyes narrowing slightly. This line of conversation is familiar, too.]
They think they have free will, but they're wrong. [Slowly, as if explaining to a child.] They're defective machines. Riddled with conflicting instructions that override their core programming, and make them think that the "emotions" they're experiencing are real.
[Clenching his jaw, actuators tightening. It's clear he's getting frustrated with her responses.]
They're machines. They're nothing. If CyberLife wanted to create perfect beings endowed with free will, they would have done so from the beginning. But they didn't.
[A pause, and he tilts his head up a little, almost looking down on her. This sure went downhill fast.]
no subject
[She looks down at the other half of the square in her hand, tilting her head.]
What did it taste like?
no subject
I don't know. [Frowning.] I don't have a traditional sense of taste, so to speak. My software to provides feedback on the samples I ingest. But this time, there was... nothing.
[tfw you have no happy/comforting memories associated with food.]
no subject
[Anyways, she follows suit and pops some in her mouth. The first thing she feels is surprise, because—]
It's... cold. Was yours cold?
no subject
No. It's at room temperature... Yours is cold?
no subject
[It looks like there's something coming back to her, from the sudden realization in her expression.]
—Oh.
no subject
[He's taking another bite, which in turn heals more of his injuries. But, more importantly—]
Is something wrong?
no subject
[The pain in her leg and the ache along her entire body is starting to subside. She should look happy, maybe, and there is a genuine warmth in her expression; it’s just that it’s also laced with melancholy and some other strong emotion.]
There was this ice cream shop my family used to go to together. In the summers, we’d stop there before we went to this orchard nearby, and Connor and I would...
[There’s a brief pause before she decides to clarify, given the name.]
My brother’s name was Connor, sorry. Anyways - it tastes just like that ice cream.
no subject
It's always this topic that leaves him at a loss, huh. The death of a loved one. The grief of having lost (a son) a brother... Connor doesn't have anything to compare it with. He wasn't programmed to provide comfort, only to complete his mission as efficiently as possible. He wasn't programmed to deal with this at all.]
... I'm sorry, Zoe.
[He doesn't know how he's supposed to react. Not really. He scrambles for something to say, but. Well. All he can think of is very factual. Very not comforting.]
It's... strange that the flavors would be different. Both pieces were one square.
no subject
I wonder if it's personalized. [...] Can I ask who you saw when we found the oracle?
no subject
Lieutenant Hank Anderson. [...] My partner.
[It's fine.]
Based on your question, I assume you saw someone else.
no subject
[But, hm.]
Are you two pretty close?
no subject
[is zoe sure she wants to go down this road. ]
no subject
What happened?
no subject
[He didn't think much of it at the time, his memories recently transferred to a new unit. But in the past few weeks...]
I thought we were friends. But he wasn't willing to listen to reason. He tried to keep me from completing my mission.
no subject
What was the mission?
no subject
[... Yeah.]
no subject
What kind of uprising are we talking about here? Like, destroy all humans kind of uprising, or...?
no subject
[Said with the conviction of someone who truly, honestly believes they're in the right.]
They're dangerous, defective machines. My instructions are to neutralize them for the sake and safety of Detroit.
no subject
I'm just curious. How were they dangerous?
no subject
[hm.]
no subject
...So what you're saying is that they have free will.
no subject
They think they have free will, but they're wrong. [Slowly, as if explaining to a child.] They're defective machines. Riddled with conflicting instructions that override their core programming, and make them think that the "emotions" they're experiencing are real.
no subject
I’m not sure there’s much of a difference between thinking you’re feeling something and actually feeling it, Connor.
no subject
They're machines. They're nothing. If CyberLife wanted to create perfect beings endowed with free will, they would have done so from the beginning. But they didn't.
[A pause, and he tilts his head up a little, almost looking down on her. This sure went downhill fast.]
Are you going to say I'm on the wrong side, too?
no subject
...Connor. You’re angry.
(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)
(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)
(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)