etraya | text; un: romano

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

Hello Etraya, a few of the newest arrivals are originally from wherever we told you we're from, but before coming here we were in Etraya's sister city, Solmara. Solmara has overthrown their AI and is ruled by a woman named Alrys. She sent us here on a recon mission to steal supplies, and while some of us were considering it, upon arrival we decided not to.

I can't speak for the others, but I know for a fact if Alrys got wind of what this place is like, she'd start a war. I'm not interested, not because I'm kind and noble (I'm not) but because making two whole cities miserable would be stupid.

Aurora has been informed of everything, but in the interest of transparency I'm letting the rest of you know too.

We will be answering questions but only if they're not stupid and you're super nice about it. Keep in mind we're probably gonna get tortured then killed then tortured again for snitching. 😃❤️🥳👍🚀🦈

PS: Any magical healers out there?

(The PS is not included on the things we will be answering questions about)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Of course. I'll meet you there.

[Shadowheart doesn't know what she's walking into, and she certainly doesn't trust any of the people involved. But if she meets the person responsible for the shooting, she can at least get a sense of whether they seem like a liar, or whether they're sincere in wanting to help their victims.

And so she stands in front of the hospital, dressed in armour with an ornate spear strapped to her back, keeping an eye out for... well, she's not sure who. Skimming the other network responses, it sounds like the person she's meant to meet is some sort of robot, and the only robots she knows are the companion bots. And that can't be right. So she's just generally keeping an eye out.]

[Well it seems Robert is not too keen on the idea either, but Connor has to try and make right with at least one of his friends. So, he's walking up to who appears to be a healer of some kind, dressed rather ornately. Connor himself is dressed as he always is, with denim pants, a nice jacket, and a crisp white shirt. This time, there's no tie.

He approaches her with a measure of caution.]

Are you the healer?

[Shadowheart doesn't answer immediately, instead looking the person who approaches her up and down curiously. Some robots, it appears, can look quite human.]

You're the one who shot his compatriots?

[Connor nods, grateful he had the repairs when he did. Otherwise he would still look like something much more monstrous.]

I am. My name is Connor.

[She doesn't introduce herself. She doesn't particularly see the point. Instead, she starts in with the questions she has.]

Tell me why you did it. And why you want to help them now.

[It's probably that he's explained as much somewhere on the network, but she has little interest in searching through other peoples' conversations. And besides, writing conveys a poor sense of a person compared to speech.]

I was programmed to achieve my mission at any cost. That unfortunately included hurting friends.

[Connor presses his lips into a thin line.] If I'd had the choice, I wouldn't have done it.

Programmed?

[She doesn't understand how robots work, so she assumes that 'programming' is similar to a charm, something that compels someone to do something whether they will it or not. And charms can last for minutes, or they can last for much, much longer, sometimes without the charmed person knowing.]

How can you be certain that you're no longer affected by this programming?

I'm thinking on my own. I'm not compelled to follow orders given by others.

[He's not sure how much she believes him, but here he is.]

[Shadowheart isn't sure how much she believes him. She stares at him curiously with narrowed eyes.]

How can someone program you?

[Connor holds out his hand, not to hold her in any way, but to demonstrate how the false skin pulls back to reveal a smooth white surface underneath. He carefully lifts one of the plates to reveal the black current of wiring beneath.]

By having access to my inner wiring.

text; un: romano

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