[... 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.]
One second, his eyes are widening in shock. The next — his facial expression is going carefully blank. Almost like someone slammed the breaks on whatever he was experiencing. He takes a step back. Smooths out the front of his jacket.]
I'm not. But it was a convincing simulation of anger, wasn't? [Hah. Haha.] That's the problem with deviants. Those who sympathize with them have been fooled by what's only an extremely sophisticated AI.
I know everyone who was on Love when we were Strung Red. I know who did it, and what abilities the others chose. There’s nobody else who could have used it on me and someone other than you. There’s nowhere else for the feelings I was getting to have come from except you, Connor.
[Without his LED, it might initially be difficult for Zoe to guess what he thinks of this. Still, it'll become rapidly obvious the moment he opens his mouth. His composure slips ever so slightly with every word he speaks.]
... Someone must have lied to you. That's the only reasonable explanation. Because— I'm not—
[She's successful in taking his hand! Though it doesn't do much to improve his mood. If anything... it makes him more confused. And he stares at their hands for a long, long moment before he speaks again.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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...So what you're saying is that they have free will.
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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.
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I’m not sure there’s much of a difference between thinking you’re feeling something and actually feeling it, Connor.
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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?
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...Connor. You’re angry.
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One second, his eyes are widening in shock. The next — his facial expression is going carefully blank. Almost like someone slammed the breaks on whatever he was experiencing. He takes a step back. Smooths out the front of his jacket.]
I'm not. But it was a convincing simulation of anger, wasn't? [Hah. Haha.] That's the problem with deviants. Those who sympathize with them have been fooled by what's only an extremely sophisticated AI.
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[She takes a breath.]
I know everyone who was on Love when we were Strung Red. I know who did it, and what abilities the others chose. There’s nobody else who could have used it on me and someone other than you. There’s nowhere else for the feelings I was getting to have come from except you, Connor.
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... Someone must have lied to you. That's the only reasonable explanation. Because— I'm not—
[...]
I'm not compromised. I can't be compromised.
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[Slowly, she shakes her head.]
There isn't a way that could have happened. If there was, you know I'd tell you, right?
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[Everything he's done? Every sacrifice he's made? It'll have been for nothing. He would have lost his friend for nothing.]
They'll destroy me. I'll have failed my mission, and they'll tear me apart piece by piece to figure out what went wrong.
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It’s going to be okay.
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Why are you doing this?
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[So much is happening.]
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[So much is happening.]
I don't understand it.
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Remember what I said? You’re my friend. Whoever you are is whoever you should be.
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[He's curling his hand into a fist when she pulls away, pressing it against his side.]
He didn't get that, either.
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[Very, very gently:]
It’s just that I don’t think it’s something you should run from, either.
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[Quietly. The existential crisis is. A lot.]
I was created for a purpose. Without it— I'm nothing. There's nothing else for me. How will I accomplish my mission if I'm as compromised as you say?
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[But, hm.]
When you said your partner stopped wanting to complete the mission... Did he say why? I’ve got a point here, promise.
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He said that deviants are alive. [And that stung.] That I shouldn't do this. That I was going to kill a man who only wants to be free.
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[As if she hasn’t done that already.]
Maybe you should think about what he said little more. Not in that, like, you did anything wrong - but maybe you could be free, too.
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... I can't do that. I've already gone too far.
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Just... Think about it. Okay?
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You grew up in a world without androids. You lack the context to understand what you're asking.
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