[OPEN LOG] I've a heart of gold in the smallest size

[serialskiller]

Who: Murderbot and y'all
When: Early December
Summary: My normal approach is useless here.
Warnings: Squishy things like bot emotions. Also risk of fall damage.

1. More than an illustration [About Anywhere]
Murderbot's gotten pretty good at painting landscapes, thanks to Bob Ross, but now it's stepping out of that comfort zone and trying to sketch people. Well. Parts of people. The way a ponytail falls over a shoulder, but without a face. An incomplete hand with tidy nails, gripping onto some sort of pole or cane. A single shoe, a black leather mary jane. An individual eye. A man's mustache and nose. Hair in a braid. What is unmistakeably Max's knee, smoldering after being shot.

It doesn't seem satisfied with any of it, though the renderings are detailed and very photorealistic. After all, its mind's eye is a literal camera. Of course it registers every detail. But as it rips out a page and crumples it up to toss away, it happens to hit the nearest person with the paper ball instead.


2. Points of articulation [The Memorial]
There's a sweatshirt Murderbot received as a Sundries gift months ago that it's never worn in public. And never will now. Near everything else people have set up, Murderbot folds the shirt so the number 57 on the back, like the numbers on the back of a sports jersey, are visible, and sets it out with everything else.

Yeah, this memorial was originally meant for previous passengers, but there's nowhere else for it to properly...you know.

"And you got the number wrong anyway, dumbass. Sixty-one. It was sixty-one. They counted too."

Beside that, he also sets some of Jinx's tools and half-finished creations, and then turns to slip away before anyone notices it was here.

...oops, too late.


3. Come to life on a brass spring [Promenade]
Look, the new brass statue in the Promenade is weird and Murderbot is climbing it. That's it, that's the prompt. Come bother it?


X. Such a wonderful plaything [Wildcard]
darkersolstice or darkersolstice #9463 to plot

Comments

2

[winepouring]

When Shi Qingxuan had come here, he wasn't actually expecting to run into anyone else.

Now that he has, he stands a few paces back - to let the other man(?) pay its respects - and tactfully averts his eyes to give some semblance of privacy, though he can hear everything that's being said. A gloomy air falls across Shi Qingxuan's pale face. A problem with the memorial? Sixty-one people... It isn't hard to imagine a tragedy like that occurring here. It also isn't hard to understand the emotion that forgetting them would bring.

Shi Qingxuan just looks down at the few small, flat, rectangular boxes made of folded paper that he's carrying in his hands as he waits. As much as he wants to make this as non-awkward as possible, though, there's still that moment where Shi Qingxuan hears Murderbot rise and then lifts his own gaze.

And then, there they are. Now they've made eye contact, and it would be more awkward not to at least acknowledge each other. Shi Qingxuan inclines his head in greeting, carefully asking, "Were you able to add them?"

[serialskiller]

"Mm. They're not people who died on this ship. They're from an incident back in my universe, where fifty-seven human miners and four ComfortUnits were killed at a mining installation. So I'm not adding their names here, it's not quite appropriate. But I am remembering them. Where I'm from, the incident was covered up, erased. There isn't anyone else to remember it."

It's clear whatever the incident is sits heavy on Murderbot. After all, if it's actively refraining from adding their names, it remembers them, all 57+4.

[winepouring]

"I see..."

Shi Qingxuan hangs his head in sympathy. Something like that doesn't surprise him, and he doesn't even begin to guess how the person in front of him came to be aware of that particular tragedy. It could be any number of reasons, any number of personal connections that Shi Qingxuan doesn't really have the right to pry into.

More so, it's clear that that incident holds a great deal of importance.

"There's nothing to say you can't create your own memorial in their memory. Even if they weren't here, they can still be remembered and honored."

[serialskiller]

"Maybe. I don't really know how to create a memorial, or what someone is supposed to do there. This is the only memorial I've ever seen, before."

It doesn't exactly come from a place with much use for spirituality.

[winepouring]

"I haven't seen many like this myself," he admits, "but when there isn't a place to bury or honor the dead here, this memorial takes that role, doesn't it? So yours should be a place where you can write their names, so they can be remembered as well..."

He glances back down at the paper rectangles in his hands as he trails off, and if he was going to make any other suggestions, he doesn't voice them when he looks up again.

"Since it's for people from your own universe in particular, though, then it should follow what people usually do to honor the deceased there."

Because the idea that one simply doesn't isn't something that even crosses his mind.

[serialskiller]

"For humans, the bodies are burned and the ashes are ejected into space or tossed out with trash if you're on a planet or moon. For ComfortUnits, the inorganic parts are taken and repurposed, and the organic parts are disposed of similarly to humans."

The Corporate Rim is a coldly practical thing.

[winepouring]

Shi Qingxuan's face pales a little, and then he clears his throat.

"...And after that...?"

[serialskiller]

"And after that, nothing. People move on. Why, do they do more, where you're from?" It frowns, peeking uncertainly at Shi Qingxuan.

[winepouring]

"That's right," he answers, then continues thoughtfully, "Of course, everyone moves on with their daily lives, too, but remembering and honoring the deceased is also important. Where I'm from, usually, people are buried in the ground, and then their names are recorded on a marker—it's like the memorial here. After that, their families come back and clean their graves and give their respects to them..."

It's an extremely abridged version. It would be meandering off track to delve into the multitudes of details relating to the customs of his own world; this was about memorials and how they could relate to the incident in its own universe. That's what matters here.

"In any case, no-one would want to be forgotten after they're gone, and even when everyone moves on with their lives, they can't just forget the people that mattered to them. So something like a memorial is good for those things.

"Since there's no set custom for that where you're from, then you can do whatever feels most right to you?" he muses aloud.

[serialskiller]

"Feels right? I don't know. I'm not very good at feeling."

Which is bullshit, it feels very strongly and deeply, it's just really shit at articulating any of those feelings, and has conflated those things and its pre-existing low self-esteem as a reason to give up on trying.

[winepouring]

Yeah, no, he's known it for all of five minutes, and he still doesn't believe that, but he's not going to call it out.

"It's easier than you think," he replies. "You've already come here, acknowledged what happened and remembered who was forgotten, so you're off to a good start."

Now that they're talking more, Shi Qingxuan tucks his papier-mâché crafts in the opening of his tied off, button-up shirt for lack of other available store-and-carry options.

"Though if you don't want to do anymore, that's fine too. The key to doing what feels right is not thinking on it so much."

[serialskiller]

"I was built to overthink things." But this time, the comment comes with the ghost of a smile, a self-mocking joke.

"I...don't think I've met you before, by the way. What would you like to be called?"

[winepouring]

Shi Qingxuan smiles more brightly at the joke, and then, because it looks enough like the average passenger onboard, he extends a hand in greeting.

"My name is Shi Qingxuan, the Wind Master Qingxuan. You can call me by name or title; both are fine," he answers casually. It isn't as though there's a set standard for how to address people here, and it's ridiculous to insist on formality. "And yourself? How do you like to be addressed?"

[serialskiller]

"I'm called SecUnit. Some people refer to me as Rin, but I prefer SecUnit." It's gotten to where it's comfortable enough to state a preference there. "And please don't be offended if I don't shake. I'm not...I don't touch people much."

[winepouring]

"SecUnit, then," he accepts the name with no real reaction; it's as normal a name as any here. Pulling his hand back, he easily switches to cupping a fist in his hand and inclining his head. "It's an honor to meet you."

Rising, he waves a hand to dismiss the apology. "Don't worry about causing offense; we don't shake hands where I'm from, either, but it's such a common way to greet people here that I've started to follow suit. If my brother was here, he would refuse it, too."

Because of course this is a matter of propriety.

[serialskiller]

That gesture. Cupping a fist and offering a low nod, it's something that Murderbot finds acceptable. Both to receive and to echo uncertainly, glad to offer respect back in a way that's not touchy.

"Thank you for your understanding."

[winepouring]

"Of course. We're all from different places here, and I usually end up as the odd one out. The first time someone held a hand out to me here, I didn't even know what was expected."

It feels quaint, he doesn't say. When Shi Qingxuan relays all this it, it becomes just a silly anecdote instead of a continuous reality.

But, since SecUnit copied him, now Shi Qingxuan is curious as well.

"So, how do you usually greet people? Is it similar?"

[serialskiller]

Murderbot shakes its head and stares down at the shirt it placed at the memorial. "In the world I come from, I don't greet anyone. I am not a person, I am a construct. I might acknowledge orders, but I don't exist within the social fabric of society."

[winepouring]

"Oh."

The new knowledge leaves him momentarily quiet, and his eyes travel down to the shirt that's been laid down as well.

"This must be an even bigger change for you than it's been for me," he replies softly.

[serialskiller]

“Perhaps. I’ve been here longer, though, so I’ve had some time to try to adjust.”

It shrugs slightly. “What part is the hardest for you?”

[winepouring]

Shrugging and moving on is really all one can do in this kind of situation.

"That's difficult to answer..." he trails off. "There's nothing here that's normal, but I can forget about that and go along with it. The hardest part would have to be the underworld that's attached to this place..."

Yeah.

But, he picks himself back up from that low place he shoved himself down to by asking, "Have you ever experienced it?"

[serialskiller]

"I've died, but I didn't have a stay in the Nothing, like those who were possessed." It is nonetheless entirely sympathetic, hearing that Shi Qingxuan has had to experience that.

[winepouring]

That actually brings a relieved smile to Shi Qingxuan's face.

"Then I hope you never do. Dying is already bad, but that place isn't something anyone should experience. The afterlife shouldn't be like that," he says with conviction. "Out of everything, that's one thing I can't accept."

A pause, then:

"Beyond that, I'd say the second hardest thing to adjust to would be my roommate."

[serialskiller]

"Roommates are hard. I just lost mine. Which is also hard, but in a different way." It nudges one of Jinx's tools with its foot gently.

[winepouring]

He had tried to lighten the mood, yet things have only gotten grimmer.

"I see..." he looks down at the tools, but they aren't recognizable to him. "Were the two of you friends...?"