un: romano | text

[badlydisarmed]

Looking for a mechanic capable of fixing a prosthetic arm, altruistic introverts highly preferred, opportunistic assholes also acceptable.

Age irrelevant, but if you're a child I will comment on it.

Comments

[badlydisarmed]

It was restored when I was, or I assume it was. I don't remember much.

[ Probably for the best, gripping terror followed by waking up in a different world; Narnia for grown-ups.

He takes the arm off and sets it on the table. It's a myoelectric limb with an elbow joint, what passed as realistic in the early 2000's, also high tech for its time, extremely underwhelming in comparison with the artificial limbs he's seen here. ]

[ornithologist]

... Ah. [ He buttons up his sarcasm, shoots Robert a quick sympathetic glance. He'd thought he might be lying, but if that isn't the case, it is possible he woke up here with it in better shape than he expected. ] My condolences.

[ It's genuine, but Harold doesn't dwell on it further. He picks up the prosthetic limb with obvious professional interest, assessing it. He examines it carefully before setting it down on the counter and pulling out some tools, tiny screwdrivers suited to computer work. ]

This may take a while. Would you like to have a seat?

[badlydisarmed]

[ He's not lying about that. No need when what happened is so absurd.

Robert's an asshole, but he respects skill and professionalism and it's quickly obvious this man's got both. He hesitates before taking the offered seat. ]

I can go for a walk if you'd rather work without chit-chat.

[ Finch is clearly the altruistic introvert Robert was looking for, the man might work better without feeling watched. ]

[ornithologist]

[ It did sound absurd. Harold has learned better than to discount the absurd while he's here, but he still has an automatic reflex to be skeptical of anything and everything. ]

That won't be necessary. [ He leans over the counter, adjusts his glasses, and starts gently removing the outer panels of the limb. ] I may not typically work on prosthetics, but this doesn't seem terribly complicated.

[ Not compared to, say, building a whole car from scratch a few months ago. ]

From what I see here I suspect we're from similar time periods. Earth? Early 20th century?

[badlydisarmed]

Yes. 2003.

[ He'd be hurt, this arm was the best there was to offer at the time. But he knows Connor, a fully working, thinking android. This arm probably looks like lego blocks to anyone familiar with more advanced tech. ]

They tried giving me a shittier one first. It was a weeks of paperwork to get something with fingers.

[ornithologist]

[ Harold really isn't comparing it to futuristic technology -- he'd have quite a bit of pause before working on someone like Connor -- but he's gotten too comfortable here letting on to others that he's something of a genius with computers and mechanics. With no neural interface on the limb and therefore no biology to confuse things, he's on solid ground. ]

2013 for me, so just a decade later, [ he notes. How bizarre to think a single decade is a minimal difference in timeline... He talks as he works. ]

I'm sure there's someone here who can make you something better -- you can spend points on it, if nothing else -- but in the meantime I can appreciate wanting what you're used to.

[badlydisarmed]

It's better than nothing.

[ And that's about as much as he can say in favor of it. ]

I met a man who uses something that sounds like... uh... something between magic and nuclear power. He said he could think of a way to make a neural link. And I'm meeting up with "SV" later, they have experience too.

[ But that's for later, he has one more thing to bring up. Unrelated to his arm. ]

Do you know an android named Connor?

[ornithologist]

[ That sounds like Jayce to him just from the description, but Harold focuses on the question asked, filing that away as he tinkers. ]

Connor? Yes. Though we're not well acquainted.

[ One or two conversations with his previous version, however meaningful, and a brief encounter with this one did not merit him a lot of familiarity in Harold's opinion. But he knows who he is. ]

You were speaking with Accelerator about him being damaged, weren't you? [ Harold hates that his actual use name is Accelerator, but for clarity's sake he'll use it here. Has Harold been managing to stalk this network post in the thirty minutes before he got here? Yes. Absolutely. ]

[badlydisarmed]

[ He's not remotely surprised people are following the network post, but this does remind him he has to be careful about who he talks to and when. ]

Yeah. Accelerator [ Robert doesn't love the name either, but he doesn't care to inquire on whether that's an actual given name or a code name. ] He mentioned you, as I assume you've read. You know how androids work?

[ Robert sure doesn't. Furbies are the smartest toy that exist in his time. ]

[ornithologist]

That would be an overstatement, [ he demurs. ] My area is more software than hardware, but I can make do with some assistance.

[ He glances up and over from his work for the first time, expression mildly curious. ]

Gorgug Thistlespring is another option; he's been working on the helper bots. With all of us working together I'm sure we could at least improve things.

[badlydisarmed]

So you're good at... computer viruses? That kind of stuff?

[ It's very obvious this is all outside Robert's own expertise, but he's curious about it. ]

[ornithologist]

[ He'd been going to turn back to focusing on what he was doing, but at that comment he stops short, nonplussed. Computer viruses, really? Well -- he is, but he doesn't share that. Normally he'd say something blithe like, Among other things, and remain mysterious and unknowable, but in this context and speaking of Connor he feels he really does need to elaborate a little. ]

The social network you used to contact me? I made several improvements to it. [ He considers Dr. Romano's likely frame of reference and hazards, ] Neurology rather than orthopedics.

[badlydisarmed]

[ That's a helpful simile, and exactly the kind of thing Robert wanted to know. He's reluctantly worried about Connor, it's good to know who could help if they need it. ]

"Social network" is a new term. [ For him, anyway. He likes the internet as a tool, but he's still a decade away from it becoming a way of life. ] I thought it was an internet.

[ornithologist]

[ Meanwhile, Harold was an enthusiastic advocate and illegal user of ARPANET. He's been through every stage of internet development and is almost physically pained to hear the term an internet.

He makes a face but diplomatically concedes, ] Social media wasn't quite around yet in 2003, that's true. The internet is a data transmission method -- a network of networks.

[ Point made, Harold resumes working. ]

I take it you're looking for people to help repair him?

[badlydisarmed]

[ Robert is, unfortunately, a boomer. He's 30 years behind on tech, he still has a pager on him even though its battery is long dead. ]

Yeah. He doesn't seem to have self-preservation programmed in, and it sounds like he'd welcome repairs but wouldn't ask for help himself.

[ If Robert had any understanding of mechanics and had the parts Connor needs, he'd help himself. But incompetence, regardless of good intentions, does more harm than good. Plus, finding people who know what they're doing will be a positive in the long run. ]

[ornithologist]

[ That grabs Harold's attention; he sounds grumpy in the way a true professional does when coming across someone else's shoddy work. ]

That seems a gross oversight, in my opinion. He's clearly an extraordinarily advanced model; it's a waste to make him so careless with his own well-being, not to mention ethically void.

[ He reflects briefly on how much he absolutely loathes Elijah Kamski despite never having met the man. ]