video | un: hank_127

[lostsymmetry]

[It's been nearly two weeks, with no sign of evaluation. Nobody except the Butler who even uses the same terms. And he has startled threats out of half the crew he's tried to speak with. At this point, sounding things out is practically required. The fact that it gives Hank an excuse to talk to a whole structure of real, living people?

Just a very big side bonus.]

<Welcome to Domesticon. We keep your property efficient, so you don't have to be.>

[His opening script, on the other hand? Not exactly what he'd have picked. While it logs as video, the incoming message shows only a geometric hash of blue. The sound emerges as a cheery robotic monotone—before cutting to sheepish, human-sounding words in the same voice.]

...or, uh, not. Sorry about that. Having trouble, syncing a few scripts. [All is a few, right? Still, the AI's tone brightens, curiously eager.] But wow is it cool to see this place coming to life!

Seeing how generous our hosts have been with the invitations, I figured I should say hello. Former facility administrator. Current occupant of your backup comm system. [There's a note of rueful irony.] Which, a few people have been disassembling. There's not much to find, but if you do want to know about the systems, I'd be glad to talk. Stop by anytime.

[Rather than, say, dismantling the computers he lives in. Please? Those near a communication console (found in each public space and at either end of all the halls) will see the display flicker briefly: showcasing the same hashed blue logo.]

...

While I'm on the line. What's the state of technology where you come from? Autonomous or otherwise.

Comments

[lostsymmetry]

[How... carefully vague.]

And more recently?

[chozobloodrites]

More recently, one of them, a planetary caretaker, decided that a lot of innocent life in the galaxy should be destroyed.

I'm sure she didn't represent the attitude of everything they made, but she was the only one I had ever met.

[lostsymmetry]

[Domesticon protocol requires presentation of the company's logo. Three decades spent corrupting that hasn't made Hank's face reactive. Or capable of showing fear.

But between Samus' first phrase and her second? The mainframe AI experiences a cold, terrified freeze.]

...

<Oops. I'm sorry.>

[The terms don't match. They don't, and even Domesticon knew better. It's why they'd wiped his databases; why they'd abandoned the human personnel. They never let even the news reach the rest of the galaxy. And the caretaker was bound to the site too.

...]

She?

[chozobloodrites]

They always referred to her as "she." Her name was Mother Brain. I guess the idea of her being a woman stuck.

[lostsymmetry]

Oh.

[The relief is as audible as it is inexplicable. To anyone who hasn't visited Domesticon warranty and recycling depot #127, at least. But his voice sobers quickly.]

I'm sorry to hear that.

What happened?

[chozobloodrites]

[She can hear the relief, more curious.]

She found people she could manipulate into doing her will, and used a species made by her creators as a weapon. I stopped them and I killed her.

... Your voice changed before. Was that intentional?

[lostsymmetry]

[A species made by her creators. More synthetics? Possible but unlikely; carbons tend to reserve the biological terms for... well, their own. He's curious either way exactly what stop meant. But it doesn't seem like a topic to press on, especially with this human trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.]

You mean the scripts? Not exactly. My manufacturers had some, specific interaction standards in mind.