[His mind, just like a human’s, is a vast network of connections and electrical impulses. But everything that makes up Connor’s brain is complex and firing so very quickly; information passing through at a flash, so much of it, again and again and again, and all he’s doing currently is sitting there, letting her delve into what makes up his mind, his memories.
It’s vast. Like a bottomless pool, and one could drown in it if they weren’t careful. Lines of code, calculations, numbers and words and things that are inherently defined as clockwork, machine-like. But there’s something else there — his consciousness, memories, emotions. Like flotsam coming up in the sea, large glittering things that stand out in the electrical web and processes of Connor’s brain.
scan rain cyberlife hank ra9 ra9 ra9 snow crunching underfoot the feeling of a gun in his hand life i am alive machines freewill desperation fear humor happiness androids deviants kill her and you’ll i’ll tell you what i want to know software fluctuation destabilization error which side are you on are we on the right side jericho police hidden hiding evidence the color of blue blood staining his lips his tongue samples pigeons chasing through the stalks in the sunlight sumo and cole and a bullet through the head of a face that looks like him
(—his consciousness is like a gentle hand guiding her along to where she needs to go. This is his mind, and none of it hurts him like they promised it wouldn’t, he can wade through this endless sea of himself without drowning. He finds the memory she wants, and it plays.
”Sumo! Where are you going?” Connor’s voice rings out, and from his perspective he sees a large dog walking ahead of him. The dog ruffs a little, panting slowly, and they both walk atop long blades of grass. The weather is getting warm again, the green of the land peeking through dead things in the park.
Hank’s dog was pulling ahead, excited about something or other, large tail swaying lazily. Connor keeps up, curious, and unwilling to lose him, hurrying his step. Through the path, under a line of well-manicured trees casting a shade over his form. Sumo stops, sitting down next to an unoccupied bench. The end of his leash drags behind him, and Connor reaches down to pick it up.
“You shouldn’t pull like that,” he says, plainly. Sumo lets out a long whine and Connor cinches his brow, wondering why the usually laid-back creature seems to be concerned about something. “What is it?” he asks, looking around; but seeing nothing, Connor sits on the old bench with the loop of Sumo’s leash still in his hand.
And then the world stops in a flash. Everything goes dark, and Connor feels like his body is being pulled in every direction at once. The leash slips from his hand — or at least, he thinks it does — or maybe it was never there once he sat. It’s a rush, a fall into a void, the sound of the universe creaking to admit him within. He feels something tearing at his heart (no he doesn’t have a heart, just parts and plastic and strangely colored blood), his chest sears with not-pain, and suddenly he’s on the ground.
It isn’t the grass of the park. It’s the cold concrete of a dirty alleyway, his vision sideways with his face planted against the ground. Liquid pools at his chest, staining clothes blue. He tries to pull himself up, and it floods down his front, his chest, too much of it lost — the countdown timer appears in his vision. Warning: internal critical failure eminent.
He tries to stand. Presses a hand to his chest, tries to walk, but braces himself against the alleyway. What was happening, he needed help, was he going to die—
Connor brings her back, out of the memory. Back into the torrential flow of connection. From here, she’ll have to get herself out.)
amanda rk800 everything is blue all the sleeping ones lined up ready to awaken and he feels fingers clench around a wrist chains prison freedom your people what choice will you make man or machine snow escape speeches and droves of plastic marching down the street burgers alcohol a friend on the ground androids who claim to love and feel and care a hole in the heart and what does he do now with so much freedom]
no subject
It’s vast. Like a bottomless pool, and one could drown in it if they weren’t careful. Lines of code, calculations, numbers and words and things that are inherently defined as clockwork, machine-like. But there’s something else there — his consciousness, memories, emotions. Like flotsam coming up in the sea, large glittering things that stand out in the electrical web and processes of Connor’s brain.
scan rain cyberlife hank ra9 ra9 ra9 snow crunching underfoot the feeling of a gun in his hand life i am alive machines freewill desperation fear humor happiness androids deviants kill her and you’ll i’ll tell you what i want to know software fluctuation destabilization error which side are you on are we on the right side jericho police hidden hiding evidence the color of blue blood staining his lips his tongue samples pigeons chasing through the stalks in the sunlight sumo and cole and a bullet through the head of a face that looks like him
(—his consciousness is like a gentle hand guiding her along to where she needs to go. This is his mind, and none of it hurts him like they promised it wouldn’t, he can wade through this endless sea of himself without drowning. He finds the memory she wants, and it plays.
”Sumo! Where are you going?” Connor’s voice rings out, and from his perspective he sees a large dog walking ahead of him. The dog ruffs a little, panting slowly, and they both walk atop long blades of grass. The weather is getting warm again, the green of the land peeking through dead things in the park.
Hank’s dog was pulling ahead, excited about something or other, large tail swaying lazily. Connor keeps up, curious, and unwilling to lose him, hurrying his step. Through the path, under a line of well-manicured trees casting a shade over his form. Sumo stops, sitting down next to an unoccupied bench. The end of his leash drags behind him, and Connor reaches down to pick it up.
“You shouldn’t pull like that,” he says, plainly. Sumo lets out a long whine and Connor cinches his brow, wondering why the usually laid-back creature seems to be concerned about something. “What is it?” he asks, looking around; but seeing nothing, Connor sits on the old bench with the loop of Sumo’s leash still in his hand.
And then the world stops in a flash. Everything goes dark, and Connor feels like his body is being pulled in every direction at once. The leash slips from his hand — or at least, he thinks it does — or maybe it was never there once he sat. It’s a rush, a fall into a void, the sound of the universe creaking to admit him within. He feels something tearing at his heart (no he doesn’t have a heart, just parts and plastic and strangely colored blood), his chest sears with not-pain, and suddenly he’s on the ground.
It isn’t the grass of the park. It’s the cold concrete of a dirty alleyway, his vision sideways with his face planted against the ground. Liquid pools at his chest, staining clothes blue. He tries to pull himself up, and it floods down his front, his chest, too much of it lost — the countdown timer appears in his vision. Warning: internal critical failure eminent.
He tries to stand. Presses a hand to his chest, tries to walk, but braces himself against the alleyway. What was happening, he needed help, was he going to die—
Connor brings her back, out of the memory. Back into the torrential flow of connection. From here, she’ll have to get herself out.)
amanda rk800 everything is blue all the sleeping ones lined up ready to awaken and he feels fingers clench around a wrist chains prison freedom your people what choice will you make man or machine snow escape speeches and droves of plastic marching down the street burgers alcohol a friend on the ground androids who claim to love and feel and care a hole in the heart and what does he do now with so much freedom]