I don't think that's what I'd call it. Depression is a mental illness suffered by humans under an extended duration of sadness, most frequently described.
It's a lot to ask, but--do you think you might be able to have a look at my code? There must be something wrong with it. Otherwise, I can't diagnose where this...sensation is coming from.
[Of course he doesn't get it, he shouldn't have expected him to. One didn't have to have depression to feel depressed. But there's no need to argue over semantics right now.]
Sure, I don't mind. Send over your location and I'll be there shortly.
[strangely he can't imagine letting anyone else into his space right now. more importantly--he doesn't want to let anyone into hank's space. everything is arranged exactly as he left it, with the exception of one piece of clothing connor has been holding periodically for traces of hair, skin cells, sweat, and smell.]
[connor takes a moment to make sure his tie is on straight, suit neatly pressed before taking the elevator up 57 floors to the apartment 9s has specified. he looks--the same as usual, nothing outright wrong, but maybe to anyone who knows how particularly animated and human he is in his behaviours might notice he's much more subdued. his led keeps flickering from red to skin-toned, blending in and never returning to blue.
he knocks twice, folding his hands behind his back and waiting.]
[There isn't much 9S needs to do to make his and A2's apartment presentable. He keeps it pretty clean and tidy (thanks to being a bit of a neat freak) and so there's not much he needs to do to make it acceptable (in his opinion) for having company over. When he hears the knock on the door he wastes no time in going to open it. He isn't wearing his visor (since A2 hates it and while staying in there isn't really much of a reason to wear it) and so icy blue eyes meet brown when the barrier separating each android is pulled open.]
Hey Connor. [He...he might look okay on the outside, but it's clear to 9S something's off, which is understandable really.] Come on in.
[that's actually a pleasant distraction--one that has him blinking once in consideration. it's the first time he's actually seen 9s' face in full, and it answers the question as to whether or not the (what he presumed were) blindfolds are removable.]
Hello 9S.
Thank you for allowing me to come here. I--should have asked. It was impolite.
[he sounds pleasant enough. but that's his default--easy to slip into. it's how he was programmed to be, not how he's really feeling, if he'd admit it.]
Oh. Um, thank you? I don't think anyone's called them striking before...
[A compliment's a compliment though - he'll take it. It's funny really, how many people are taken aback by his eyes. Looks like androids aren't immune to their effect either.]
It's fine. Don't worry about it.
[He waves it off casually before gesturing for Connor to follow him inside, making sure to lock the door behind them. Off he heads toward the kitchen, letting his fingers trace around the edge of the counter as he casually makes his way to the fridge.]
A2 isn't home right now and shouldn't be for awhile, so you can make yourself comfortable.
[he repeats it, because the idea of needing to be comfortable isn't something he ever needs to focus on or that matters much, really. he can't feel pain or discomfort, but he's not going to play semantics. he oddly thinks that trying to explain it now would be a waste of time, and it hardly matters when hank--
his led flickers yellow briefly, before he decides that he should--sit. that would be a polite way to acknowledge it. so he sits at the island, palms flat against it and watches 9s at the fridge.]
[It's not the fridge part of the refrigerator that 9S goes for. Instead it's the freezer, as he opens it and pulls out a tub of...chocolate ice cream. A spoon is soon procured as well as he makes his way back to where Connor is, setting both down on the counter top while he sits.]
Just relax, okay? It shouldn't take long to check you out.
[Not that he expects anything will be out of sorts, but y'know, if anyone can find a bug it's him.]
[connor nods, voice soft and a little far-away. he eyes the ice cream and just figures 9s is hungry again. at least he won't have to scan it for an allergen--he's not sure he could even do so accurately right now.
(of course he could--he's just...not used to feeling like everything is on manual.)
he extends his hand, palm up and fingers slightly spread.]
[He's not hungry, which is the funny part about him eating. It's simply done for the pleasure of the act, the feel good response it brings about. There's an eyebrow raised at the hand he's offered, before 9S is plucking his gloves off. He's still not really sure why contact's needed (it isn't - he checked - wireless works completely fine) but there's something that drives him to press his palm to Connor's and connect not only on a wireless level but a physical one.
Without realizing it he's gone the extra mile, lacing said fingers together as he makes himself comfortable. Ice cream ignored for a moment a display suddenly materializes before him, holographic in nature, acting much like a touch screen would, his free hand typing in a few commands.]
So...what part of all of this concerns you the most?
[connor relaxes into it slightly, eased by the touch. he likes that kind of contact, he's decided. but part of it is habit too--he's used to needing to interface by pressing synthetic skin together with another android. it's an added sense of connectivity on levels he doesn't even comprehend.
his brows are furrowed together, eyes downcast]
Concerns? About--ice cream?
[he's not avoiding the obvious topic on purpose. he's just...lost, clearly.]
No, no...not the ice cream. How you're feeling. What you're experiencing.
[It's almost child's play for 9S as he begins to sift through Connor's data, byte by byte, acting like a living anti-virus if you will. So far though nothing has turned up. He does catch him relax once their hands connect though. It's interesting, considering 9S feels the same way. (Relaxed, that is.)]
[connor is convinced there’s something he missed—something he won’t dare admit is actual emotion causing the sensation of distress and a dull ache beneath his chestplates. he watches his artificial skin receding where it’s connected to 9s at their hands, and somehow the reminder that he’s not as advanced makes it hurt that much more.
he’s staring down at the table, mouth purses and eyes dull as he quietly asks in lieu of an answer:]
You can—watch the footage. Do you think it’s because I wasn’t advanced enough? Would you or another of your kind have been able to spare him?
[as if somehow the unpredictability and suddenness of freak accidents was somehow preventable among humans.]
It would've depended on the circumstances, Connor. Sometimes things happen that's out of everyone's control.
[Instinctively he finds himself giving Connor's hand a squeeze as he continues to sift through data, finding his memory bank to review the footage. It's easy enough to find and so he plays it, unable to keep the frown off his face. It's...gory, that's for sure, to see a human he's met die the way Hank does. It's clear though that there's nothing that Connor could've done. Not even a YoRHa unit would be able to have done anything for him.]
It's not your fault. [He shifts closer to Connor, venting warm air he didn't realize he'd been holding. It might not make him feel better, saying as much, but it's the truth.] There isn't really anything anyone of us could've done in a situation like this.
[Leaving the memory behind 9S finds himself sifting through more code. He's curious, of course, to see just what makes Connor 'different' if you will, and the answer is found quicker than he suspects it would be. The lines of code are connected, ironically, to his memory bank. Somehow vital functions have been intertwined with memories and the complex learning algorithms Connor's been given seem to be reinforced positively or negatively depending on his experiences and ultimately, what memories his code has decided is important to keep.
This isn't the first time he's seen this happen.
It reminds him of the machines he's hacked in the past, how those who seemed to exhibit signs of thought and emotion all had one thing in common - they all had a 'treasure' if you will - something that they all had assigned importance to that fueled their emotional development. He can't help but think back to the machine in the theater he and 2B had killed, whose 'treasure' had been the pursuit of beauty, in the hopes of being adored by the one she'd fixated on. It's really, in a way, no different here, is it? This person with their face caved in...it's Connor's relationship to him that seems to be the android's 'treasure', the thing that fuels his coding to develop and evolve past what he was initially installed with.
It's something that 9S has been thinking of himself, the concept of a 'treasure' and how really, when it comes to this particular thing, machines and androids aren't so different. He has a 'treasure' too, after all - 2B was undoubtedly this to him - and while he was given the ability to feel and think for himself straight off the assembly line, it'd be a lie to say she hadn't changed him, for better or worse. His voice is quiet when he speaks next, not exactly liking the answer he's to give the other android.]
So...I found where the issue is, if you want to call it that. I can do something about it, but it wouldn't be very ethical.
[Because if Connor really doesn't want to feel anymore, he'd have to rid him of the memories he seems to cherish the most.]
[he insists, because he's just not designed to fail. he always accomplishes his mission, and even if the parameters of it have changed here, his relationship with lieutenant anderson was crucial to this. even if it weren't complicated by the memories and the contract, the feelings connor is denying he has regarding his partner...at a base level, he should have protected him.
of course, any logical human or machine would accept and understand that in this case it's true: nothing could have been done. there was no predictive software to explain the anomaly of a freak accident. that's a difficult thing for connor to accept, just like 9s trying to assure him that even he wouldn't have been able to do anything. he doesn't seem to have the extra motivation to argue or to ask further, so instead he just closes his eyes and leaves his connection open for further investigation. there's still the chance that something faulty in his software could be blamed for this--something that will undoubtedly make him feel guiltier than he already does even if he won't call it that--but it'd be an answer.
when 9s speaks up again, his eyes widen, and his led circles from yellow to blue in a flash. so there is an issue. he knew there must be.]
If something is wrong with me--I should fix it. It could be the reason I wasn't able to protect the Lieutenant, and it could impair my mission in the future.
Please, 9S. I would--It would be more helpful than you know. If you can just give me the diagnostics or inform me of the problem, I can determine the best course of action.
Is it a calibration? A virus?
[he has no idea the answer is something he's never going to want to fix.]
[It's frustrating, in a way, to hear him talk like that, if only because it hits way too close to home. Just how many times had he been scolded and talked down to, warned and almost threatened just because of the way he'd been made? He still gets treated like this, told that his feelings don't matter or are invalid because of what he is - it just comes out of the mouth of his creators more often than not now, not his fellow androids.]
It's neither of those things. Connor, you need to listen to me and listen to me very, very carefully...the way you're made? The only way for you to stop "feeling" is if you have your memories wiped, especially of the Lieutenant. Even if you did do this it's only a matter of time before your code lands you in the very same state you are in right now all over again.
[he can sense maybe he's said something wrong by the way 9S emphasizes that. it's confusing to be told his coding is unlike anything he'd ever seen, that there is something different and then just be meant to accept it. connor is torn between knowing his code was meant to evolve to make decisions and new algorithms based on the data he obtains, and knowing there should be some sort of limit to keep him from ultimately going deviant. he knows there's no link or specific piece of coding they've narrowed it down to in the course of his investigation--any of the recovered deviants haven't been fully analyzed yet.
he's conflicted. which is in itself a feeling, but more easily chalked up to something that still is within the parameters of his case. he's had conflicting priorities to handle before.
but the solution...the solution makes him feel that same tightness in his chest again without any warning or error code flashing on his hud. the thought of losing his memories and--progress with hank?
it's devastating to consider. it makes him feel--frightened? pervasively, and deeply sad, almost as sad as seeing him die.
his led flashes red, and he lifts his gaze to look resolutely at 9s.]
I--
[it would jeopardize the mission too, that's just it. he's not being completely deviant or irrational in saying this, even if his reasoning is truly selfish at its core.]
I can't do that.
[he pulls his hand away, terminating the connection abruptly. as if the very idea of it happening even accidentally while connected to 9S is too much to handle.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It's a lot to ask, but--do you think you might be able to have a look at my code? There must be something wrong with it. Otherwise, I can't diagnose where this...sensation is coming from.
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[Of course he doesn't get it, he shouldn't have expected him to. One didn't have to have depression to feel depressed. But there's no need to argue over semantics right now.]
Sure, I don't mind. Send over your location and I'll be there shortly.
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[strangely he can't imagine letting anyone else into his space right now. more importantly--he doesn't want to let anyone into hank's space. everything is arranged exactly as he left it, with the exception of one piece of clothing connor has been holding periodically for traces of hair, skin cells, sweat, and smell.]
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he knocks twice, folding his hands behind his back and waiting.]
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Hey Connor. [He...he might look okay on the outside, but it's clear to 9S something's off, which is understandable really.] Come on in.
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Hello 9S.
Thank you for allowing me to come here. I--should have asked. It was impolite.
[he sounds pleasant enough. but that's his default--easy to slip into. it's how he was programmed to be, not how he's really feeling, if he'd admit it.]
You have very striking eyes.
[he adds on absently in observation.]
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[A compliment's a compliment though - he'll take it. It's funny really, how many people are taken aback by his eyes. Looks like androids aren't immune to their effect either.]
It's fine. Don't worry about it.
[He waves it off casually before gesturing for Connor to follow him inside, making sure to lock the door behind them. Off he heads toward the kitchen, letting his fingers trace around the edge of the counter as he casually makes his way to the fridge.]
A2 isn't home right now and shouldn't be for awhile, so you can make yourself comfortable.
no subject
[he repeats it, because the idea of needing to be comfortable isn't something he ever needs to focus on or that matters much, really. he can't feel pain or discomfort, but he's not going to play semantics. he oddly thinks that trying to explain it now would be a waste of time, and it hardly matters when hank--
his led flickers yellow briefly, before he decides that he should--sit. that would be a polite way to acknowledge it. so he sits at the island, palms flat against it and watches 9s at the fridge.]
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Just relax, okay? It shouldn't take long to check you out.
[Not that he expects anything will be out of sorts, but y'know, if anyone can find a bug it's him.]
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[connor nods, voice soft and a little far-away. he eyes the ice cream and just figures 9s is hungry again. at least he won't have to scan it for an allergen--he's not sure he could even do so accurately right now.
(of course he could--he's just...not used to feeling like everything is on manual.)
he extends his hand, palm up and fingers slightly spread.]
no subject
Without realizing it he's gone the extra mile, lacing said fingers together as he makes himself comfortable. Ice cream ignored for a moment a display suddenly materializes before him, holographic in nature, acting much like a touch screen would, his free hand typing in a few commands.]
So...what part of all of this concerns you the most?
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his brows are furrowed together, eyes downcast]
Concerns? About--ice cream?
[he's not avoiding the obvious topic on purpose. he's just...lost, clearly.]
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[It's almost child's play for 9S as he begins to sift through Connor's data, byte by byte, acting like a living anti-virus if you will. So far though nothing has turned up. He does catch him relax once their hands connect though. It's interesting, considering 9S feels the same way. (Relaxed, that is.)]
no subject
he’s staring down at the table, mouth purses and eyes dull as he quietly asks in lieu of an answer:]
You can—watch the footage. Do you think it’s because I wasn’t advanced enough? Would you or another of your kind have been able to spare him?
[as if somehow the unpredictability and suddenness of freak accidents was somehow preventable among humans.]
no subject
[Instinctively he finds himself giving Connor's hand a squeeze as he continues to sift through data, finding his memory bank to review the footage. It's easy enough to find and so he plays it, unable to keep the frown off his face. It's...gory, that's for sure, to see a human he's met die the way Hank does. It's clear though that there's nothing that Connor could've done. Not even a YoRHa unit would be able to have done anything for him.]
It's not your fault. [He shifts closer to Connor, venting warm air he didn't realize he'd been holding. It might not make him feel better, saying as much, but it's the truth.] There isn't really anything anyone of us could've done in a situation like this.
[Leaving the memory behind 9S finds himself sifting through more code. He's curious, of course, to see just what makes Connor 'different' if you will, and the answer is found quicker than he suspects it would be. The lines of code are connected, ironically, to his memory bank. Somehow vital functions have been intertwined with memories and the complex learning algorithms Connor's been given seem to be reinforced positively or negatively depending on his experiences and ultimately, what memories his code has decided is important to keep.
This isn't the first time he's seen this happen.
It reminds him of the machines he's hacked in the past, how those who seemed to exhibit signs of thought and emotion all had one thing in common - they all had a 'treasure' if you will - something that they all had assigned importance to that fueled their emotional development. He can't help but think back to the machine in the theater he and 2B had killed, whose 'treasure' had been the pursuit of beauty, in the hopes of being adored by the one she'd fixated on. It's really, in a way, no different here, is it? This person with their face caved in...it's Connor's relationship to him that seems to be the android's 'treasure', the thing that fuels his coding to develop and evolve past what he was initially installed with.
It's something that 9S has been thinking of himself, the concept of a 'treasure' and how really, when it comes to this particular thing, machines and androids aren't so different. He has a 'treasure' too, after all - 2B was undoubtedly this to him - and while he was given the ability to feel and think for himself straight off the assembly line, it'd be a lie to say she hadn't changed him, for better or worse. His voice is quiet when he speaks next, not exactly liking the answer he's to give the other android.]
So...I found where the issue is, if you want to call it that. I can do something about it, but it wouldn't be very ethical.
[Because if Connor really doesn't want to feel anymore, he'd have to rid him of the memories he seems to cherish the most.]
no subject
[he insists, because he's just not designed to fail. he always accomplishes his mission, and even if the parameters of it have changed here, his relationship with lieutenant anderson was crucial to this. even if it weren't complicated by the memories and the contract, the feelings connor is denying he has regarding his partner...at a base level, he should have protected him.
of course, any logical human or machine would accept and understand that in this case it's true: nothing could have been done. there was no predictive software to explain the anomaly of a freak accident. that's a difficult thing for connor to accept, just like 9s trying to assure him that even he wouldn't have been able to do anything. he doesn't seem to have the extra motivation to argue or to ask further, so instead he just closes his eyes and leaves his connection open for further investigation. there's still the chance that something faulty in his software could be blamed for this--something that will undoubtedly make him feel guiltier than he already does even if he won't call it that--but it'd be an answer.
when 9s speaks up again, his eyes widen, and his led circles from yellow to blue in a flash. so there is an issue. he knew there must be.]
If something is wrong with me--I should fix it. It could be the reason I wasn't able to protect the Lieutenant, and it could impair my mission in the future.
Please, 9S. I would--It would be more helpful than you know. If you can just give me the diagnostics or inform me of the problem, I can determine the best course of action.
Is it a calibration? A virus?
[he has no idea the answer is something he's never going to want to fix.]
no subject
[It's frustrating, in a way, to hear him talk like that, if only because it hits way too close to home. Just how many times had he been scolded and talked down to, warned and almost threatened just because of the way he'd been made? He still gets treated like this, told that his feelings don't matter or are invalid because of what he is - it just comes out of the mouth of his creators more often than not now, not his fellow androids.]
It's neither of those things. Connor, you need to listen to me and listen to me very, very carefully...the way you're made? The only way for you to stop "feeling" is if you have your memories wiped, especially of the Lieutenant. Even if you did do this it's only a matter of time before your code lands you in the very same state you are in right now all over again.
no subject
[he can sense maybe he's said something wrong by the way 9S emphasizes that. it's confusing to be told his coding is unlike anything he'd ever seen, that there is something different and then just be meant to accept it. connor is torn between knowing his code was meant to evolve to make decisions and new algorithms based on the data he obtains, and knowing there should be some sort of limit to keep him from ultimately going deviant. he knows there's no link or specific piece of coding they've narrowed it down to in the course of his investigation--any of the recovered deviants haven't been fully analyzed yet.
he's conflicted. which is in itself a feeling, but more easily chalked up to something that still is within the parameters of his case. he's had conflicting priorities to handle before.
but the solution...the solution makes him feel that same tightness in his chest again without any warning or error code flashing on his hud. the thought of losing his memories and--progress with hank?
it's devastating to consider. it makes him feel--frightened? pervasively, and deeply sad, almost as sad as seeing him die.
his led flashes red, and he lifts his gaze to look resolutely at 9s.]
I--
[it would jeopardize the mission too, that's just it. he's not being completely deviant or irrational in saying this, even if his reasoning is truly selfish at its core.]
I can't do that.
[he pulls his hand away, terminating the connection abruptly. as if the very idea of it happening even accidentally while connected to 9S is too much to handle.]
It would be a setback for both of us.
[i don't want to lose him again.]