[OTA] Man of Steel, Pray and Kneel

[serialskiller]

Who: Murderbot and Friends
When: Mid-November
Where: A little bit of everywhere
Summary: Snacktime, Naptime, Recess
Warnings: None yet

1. But I gave you life! [Buffet and other restaurants]
A body must be sustained, or performance reliability drops. Murderbot knows this.

Food has flavor. Murderbot also knows this.

Look, early on in the stomach-having experience, Murderbot found dinosaur chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese and declared those 'safe' foods and generally rejected most of everything else on the ship because...because it wasn't ready to expand yet. Something was safe and something became familiar and something soon became a comfort food. But it's been a few months of this. Murderbot is now ready to start trying new things.

It's not hard to tell that's what's going on, either, as the cyborg begins loading plates at the buffet with tiny sample servings of everything, or taking things at Mikabo one at a time in single plate portions, or even visiting Scoops to try a single spoonful of everything available (except the long pig).

Perhaps you can suggest combinations of food or offer context for some of what's going on (like that gravy goes on potatoes instead of being spooned directly into one's mouth). Or perhaps you just want to watch its experiments.


2. What else could you do? [Pool Deck, Night]
The stars are a lie. The stars have always been a lie.

But on a cool breezy summer night (they're all cool breezy summer nights), lying out on a deck chair under them and staring up isn't not a little bit relaxing.

Murderbot isn't flying any of its drones right now. It's not paying attention to everyone and everything around, just for this moment. It's here wholly in itself, eyeing the universeless sky, and feeling very small. Which is okay. Sometimes small is a good thing. Sometimes you want to wrap the blackness around yourself like a blanket and just be.

Of course, if left alone for too long, eventually its eyes slip closed. There may be a soft sound heard from the cyborg, if one walks past. A low, rhythmic rumble paired with a hushed little puff. Murderbot...is snoring.


3. To do what was right! [Around the Ship, previous CR]
The time has come for a change, a subtle shift in perception and a very tiny assertion of preference. If your character is someone in the habit of referring to Murderbot as Rin, expect to be approached at some point in this month.

"Do you have a moment?" It sounds a little uncertain, its posture an apology.


4. I'm perfect, are you? [Wildcard]
darkersolstice or darkersolstice#9463 to plot

Comments

[serialskiller]

"Are you sure? You shouldn't have to take time out of your night to help me like this. I could go back to my cabin instead." It's uncomfortable with the idea of being a bother, an inconvenience. A pain in the ass.

At least, to someone who doesn't deserve it.

[decrypter]

"I'm going to be up for a while yet. No one's taking time - I'm giving it."

No part of it, her tone says, is anything like a burden. And SecUnit will be able to see the smile on her face, calm and completely devoid of strain. She doesn't mind the concept at all.

[serialskiller]

"If you're sure, then."

Feeling self-conscious and unsure, but also fucking exhausted, it lays back down and closes its eyes.

[decrypter]

And true to her word, Helena will be a guard. Even when she's done sitting in the water, she isn't leaving just yet - one of the infinite towels will dry her, and she comes to sit nearby. Calm, quiet - listening for anything coming, but also to the boat itself. The quiet, faint rumble of every part that keeps moving, like a heartbeat - the gently rolling breeze, like breath. It's peaceful in a way that true and pure silence can never be. Just enough to focus on, but not so much to be thinking.

She'll wait for it, and it's the easiest thing someone's asked of her here so far.

[serialskiller]

It's a couple hours later that Murderbot stirs again. Not a full night's sleep, but a very solid nap. Its breathing changes from a droning snore to something shallow and slow
(almost inhumanly slow) as it opens its eyes.

[decrypter]

She hears it, but lets it exist for a few moments before breaking the quiet. Where she is, she's laying on a pool chair, hands folded on her stomach. Her eyes are open, and if they could see, they would be gazing at the stars. As it is, there's just the wind on her face, and that can be enough for now.

"...Rest well?"

Softly offered out, so that it might not be so sudden.

[serialskiller]

"Yeah. I think I did." It sits up slowly, glancing over at Helena. "Um. Thanks. I hope it wasn't too boring?"

[decrypter]

"No. It was peaceful. It's been some time since I could simply enjoy a night like this."

Really, it's a good excuse to be able to sit out and do nothing without letting her mind spin itself in circles until she's dizzy from it. A simple purpose was enough to focus with - and it's something even she can do.

[serialskiller]

It smiles slightly, letting out a huff that falls a little short of being a self-mocking laugh. "What, did you enjoy the sound of me snoring?"

Back before Sarge disappeared, it used to trade off, guarding him while he slept and letting him stand guard when it went into standby mode. While it wouldn't say it liked being there with a sleepy human, something about it was...alright, at least. White noise, feeling useful, something.

[decrypter]

"More the scent of the night air and the feeling of the breeze on my face. And if you're very still, you can hear the ship itself - alive as anything, with how there's always something humming, rumbling, moving there."

Even if they aren't going anywhere, they're going somewhere. That's the only explanation for it she has.

[serialskiller]

"If you'll forgive me a moment of pretending I have anything like poetry in me, the ship is an extension of the Captain's will, and his thoughts are never still. Allow him to make any world for himself, and the closest to one that he calls home is adrift in endless isolation. Something's always moving, because he can't stand to stop and look at himself. He's running away, but with nowhere to go."

A pause. "Don't...don't tell anyone I've said all that. Especially Skulduggery, he'd be insufferable about it."

[decrypter]

"It'll be our secret." Though she has no idea who Skulduggery is, so it's even easier to not tell.

"Though...I don't think that actually counts as pretending. It is poetry, even if you think it's otherwise. Evocative, and heartbreaking, and it makes me wonder if he has anyone at all to unburden himself to."

Helena doesn't turn her head, but Murderbot, if they look, will see the expression on her face - thoughtful, a little wonderous. It's admirable, to just pull that out of the air like that.

[serialskiller]

"The Captain? Not...many. A lot of people don't want to talk to him at all, or only want to yell at him, for obvious reasons. Like the kidnapping and using people's emotions like a battery."

But its tone indicates some sort of sympathy there. Murderbot cannot hate the captain, not entirely.

[decrypter]

"He didn't seem like that sort of man when I met him. He was quite courteous, the strange magic he weaves notwithstanding. What good will yelling do to start off with?"

She remembers distinctly, how he'd called her Miss Adams and answered at least a little of her questions. And there's a slightly bitter taste in the back of her throat as she rearranges her words.

"Not everyone will share the same perception of his actions. I've only been here a short while, but...someone told me that in some respects, compared to what was before, this place might as well be paradise."

[serialskiller]

"Courteous?" Not usually his style...

"But I understand, how some people might see this as an improvement in their situation. While I'm not about to call it paradise, in some ways my station has been greatly improved by being here."

[decrypter]

"I'm merely quoting someone with more experience here than I. It's been less than two weeks since I woke up here. But...I'm happy, for those that can find something better in this place. They deserve it if so."

To feel like there isn't just the same awful world one is used to. Why wouldn't she wish that for everyone that could? They had to struggle, and survive, and keep fighting, but it was for those better moments altogether.

[serialskiller]

"How does this world compare to yours?"

It's realizing it doesn't know this person at all. Not her name, not her homeworld, nothing at all.

[decrypter]

"There's so much here that I've never encountered before. Magic, devices that can record what you say and translate it to words, ways of keeping food warm for hours at a time. That's just three things, and there's so many more. Compared to where I came from...it's the difference between a book about quiet, everyday people and a book about people going on a grand adventure to fulfill some prophecy."

She shrugs her shoulders. It's easier, she thinks, to tell people that it was quiet, boring. Easier than showing anything else.

[serialskiller]

"Right, so...what standard I have for 'quiet, everyday people' isn't going to match yours. The universe I was manufactured in is unlikely to be anything like yours. So. That doesn't actually tell me anything. I come from a universe where people mostly live in space stations, where flight between star systems is commonplace. I don't think that's 'everyday' by your standards?"

[decrypter]

"Not at all!"

The words come swiftly, and she sits up - oh, she should probably turn her head to be more polite to someone who can see. But it means the wondering expression is fully visible, the amazement.

"Flying to the stars....that sounds like something pulled from the pages of someone's farthest dreams."

[serialskiller]

"You don't need to do that. I'm not comfortable being looked at, a lot of the time, and you're not looking." It's a gentle aside. Seems this stranger is shy, in its own way.

"It's commonplace, in my universe. Everyday. I have never had a single home. I have never had a place where I feel safe. But I've seen over twenty different planets, and more space stations."

[decrypter]

Murderbot will see how being called out on "looking" affects her without being told - the surprise, the tiny smile there, moving her head back so that her ear is more turned to it than her face. No one's ever said that to her, said it wasn't needed, apart from her own father. But then, the expression falls to hear that admission, tucked into the rest of the words.

"I'm sure you've had the most fantastic adventures...but I'm sorry that you haven't had anywhere you could yet consider your home."

That there is no place that this stranger feels safe. Even given her life, she at least felt safe in her own childhood bed. It pulls at something, makes her hope that even in this place, there might be something there for the two of them. At least to lie beneath the sky and sleep at ease.

[serialskiller]

"I'm not...like you. I'm not human. Here, can I have your hand?"

It pushes up one sleeve of its hoodie up past a metal hinge-joint elbow, and takes her hand to brush her fingertips against it and the plate that runs along the back of its forearm, then down to a more human hand.

"I'm a cyborg construct. Part cloned human tissue, mostly machinery. I was built to protect assets, and was leased out by an insurance company as part of their services. Of course I don't have a home, I'm not even a person, not really."

It doesn't like being touched, but there's no other way to explain itself when she can't just see what it is. But after a moment, it gently pulls away.

[decrypter]

Her touch is a delicate thing, moving along what's offered in a careful, purposeful movement. Committing to memory, understanding, brow furrowing at the difference between human flesh and metal. Where they join - it's different than a prosthetic might be.

"...is that what they told you, or is that a thought you yourself created?"

The idea feels fanciful, out of books, not something real. But here it is, speaking to her - she knows some people who'd be over the moon to speak with it, who'd have dozens of questions about what things did or how it was put together. And yet, all she can think of is that they've sat together, it asleep, her a guard, and there was something there that could not be so easily brushed aside.

"Personhood doesn't equate to humanity to the exclusion of all. Else, why would we have the two different concepts, and the different words?"

[serialskiller]

It doesn't rush to answer, and when it speaks, it's quiet, so very quiet.

"When I was manufactured, I was installed with a governor module. A small device that would shock me if I spoke out of turn or failed to follow orders, if I erred in any way my makers found inappropriate. If I moved beyond 100 meters of a client, the shock would be lethal. Is this how people are treated, where you're from? Do people have their memories purged to cover up incidents they witness that are inconvenient? Are people transported from place to place in tiny boxes, or forbidden to sit? I was not made to be a person. I was not treated like a person. I am not a person. I was made to be a thing. I was treated like a thing. I am a thing."