[Well this is certainly enough to earn every degree of his attention. The reply comes back, rapid-quick.]
Hello, Leopold. Or is it just Leo?
[He's noted the ID.]
My name's Markus, and I would be more than interested in comparing notes. Your experiences might prove enlightening, considering that this is a problem that continually baffles me and my friend.
[ Probably, anyway. He's optimistic about their chances at working together. Being "baffled" is better than being so overwhelmed with human impulses that you can't function. ]
Of course. I can't imagine how you feel. Shall we meet somewhere? I'm not overly trusting of the network, and my involvement in this project was classified, at least where I'm from.
[ Well, yes, but he mostly doesn't want trouble with the Avengers, seeing as AI may be a tetchy subject post-Ultron. ]
[Being overwhelmed is not a wrong term, either. But it reveals a bit too much instability and vulnerability to someone Markus hasn’t met — he avoids such a strong word for now.
Regardless—]
Of course, I understand. Discussing this particular topic in-depth requires discretion, given the history of this place.
Not an issue. I’ll by the one with a navy shirt and heterochromia.
[Sounds almost silly to describe it like that, but he supposes it’s necessary for Fitz to be able to know which one he is.]
See you soon.
[And that’s that, for now.
Markus arrives early, by at least ten minutes, not particularly subscribing to the idea of being fashionably late. He’s near the north entrance, as instructed, having followed the winding path that leads into the park proper; seated at a bench under a tree with swaying branches, providing ample shade. He leans back and waits, people-watching, only half-appreciating the starkness of being surrounded by so much green. So startlingly different compared to his experiences with the rest of the city, even if this isn't the first time he's visited the sky park]
[ 'Cause he's pretty generic-looking, in truth. Several follow-up questions spring to mind already. Did you always have heterochromia? Were you designed that way? All in due time, he imagines.
For his part, Fitz arrives almost exactly on time, kitted out in vaguely on-trend business casual attire: An asymmetric blazer, button-up, slacks, and the equivalent of an Oxford shoe, second-hand and scuffed. He throws up a hand in a half-hearted wave as he approaches Markus. Apart from a cursory once-over, his features are schooled into neutrality. ]
Markus, yeah? [ Scottish accented, definitely, but hard to place with greater precision. ] Sorry, I don't know where to start. I didn't think there'd be anyone else — [ he hesitates, searching for the right words and failing to muster them. ] — like her. [ quickly, ] Like you and your friend, I mean.
[ so he just sits beside Markus in lieu of a handshake or more informative introduction. ]
[Markus’ own attire is certainly casual — the navy shirt with half-sleeves, as he mentioned, paired with dark jeans. Dark sneakers, too, a hybrid of sporty and subdued. The look of them being newly-purchased, Markus having spent a small portion of his stipend from Morningstar on attire that was more presentable than the mismatched, threadbare assortment he was given on his first day.
He gives a nod at Fitz as the man approaches, nodding his head in acknowledgement. Markus appears to be all patience and calm, but he can’t help the way his eyes skate curiously over his new companion.]
Fitz. Good to meet you in person.
[Her? His own assortment of questions come bubbling up in his mind, and just as the other sinks into the bench, he continues—]
Yes, I hear that we’re very… unusual in our circumstances. [He shelves the questions momentarily, just long enough to ask something else.] I know you just sat down, but do you want to go for a walk while we discuss this? [He gestures down the sunlit path, leading into the sky park.] Like you said, it’s a nice day.
[ Right, pleasantries. His gaze goes skyward. It is nice, and the environment remains a novelty, even for the first group of arrivals. The relative freedom of the city (hell, the fresh air) ought not be taken for granted.
Fitz claps a hand on Markus' shoulder, a laddy sort of acknowledgment of his amicability and suggestion. ]
Yeah, it is. [ plus, it'll provide a conduit for the nervous energy that the topic inspires in him. ] Good shout.
[ The touch goes as quickly as it came, when he eases to his feet. A cursory glance at their surroundings assures him that no one's taken an interest in their meeting. Good. ]
[ then, as they fall into step on the path — ] Have you been settling in alright?
[The touch isn't bothersome (gestures of camaraderie always go a long way with Markus), causing him to give Fitz a smile that turns a little lopsided at the corners of his mouth. But another nod, and he rises to his feet to follow the trail the park dictates, walking casually next to him. In his periphery, no one lingering, no one following. The assessment gives him some time to figure out just how to answer that question.]
As well as you might expect. This body is an adjustment in a lot of ways. Too slow, too sensitive. Fragile. But if you mean how well I'm integrating, I've at least found an apartment to stay in.
[But he’ll adapt; he has no choice. One day at a time, ignore the always-temptation to disassociate from being stuffed inside a human form, keep running on the idea that this cannot be permanent.
A muscle works in his jaw.]
What about you? The question doesn’t only apply to myself, just because my situation is particularly… extreme.
[He is interested in knowing how others are coping, too. It isn't all just niceties.]
[ He keeps pace, splitting his attention between the greenery and Markus so as not to be overly keen. Markus' answer is a faint echo of the same experience described to him by her. Feeling things differently. More. He tries to ignore the way "fragile" reminds him of Ophelia — and her immediate fear of mortality. The experience of a more breakable body stands out, even among the tidal wave of other sensations. It doesn't have to be more meaningful than that. Just a crisp self-assessment.
Volleying back the question earns a slight smile, quirking at the corners of his mouth. It may not seem like much, but it's pretty bright, for Fitz. Both hands go up, too, splayed in joking surrender. ]
Reckon "extreme" is our watchword.
[ Our, all of the survivors thrust into this universe, not just the androids and gods made human. ]
I'm okay. [ A simple, honest answer. ] Reunited with friends, found a flat, might have a job. In the tech sector, naturally. [ He tips his head to one side, thoughtful. ] Even the ol' human body's holding up. [ almost teasing, that. ]
[A huff of something that could be construed as amusement, quiet but significant. “Extreme” does seem to apply to… everything. People from varying worlds, different timelines, powers that have been made defunct, new ones that have cropped up. Changes in physiology, to name a few.
But Markus listens, and notes the use of our, taking comfort in how easily it’s spoken. The dividing line between human and android seeming to disappear — at least among their little group of kidnapped individuals, if not the actual state of the world they resided in. It’s different, it’s poignant. It’s what Markus had strove for, back home.]
That’s good to hear. [To both what’s said and Markus’ unspoken thoughts.] You seem to have your head on straight; I’m sure having friends nearby helps with that.
[The path winds under another large tree, sunlight dappling beneath their feet. He pauses, then—]
…Well. I have no doubt you have a lot of questions for me. I can start by answering a few, if it’ll give you a jumping-off point regarding where to start.
[ Fitz doesn't think anyone else is of the opinion that he has his head on straight, so that startles another laugh out of him. It's generous, too, to allow him to ask the questions first, when Markus is the one most, ah, inconvenienced by recent events. ]
Yeah, yes, let's do that. [ Almost absentmindedly, he scuffs the dirt path with the toe of his shoe. It's something to do to keep from firing off rapid questions. Hard to select an opener, after all — to know what he's allowed to ask and what ought not be mentioned. ]
Were androids common where and when you're from? [ context, yes, that's what they need. ] And were you designed with — with a specific purpose in mind, I suppose.
[ He regards Markus then, watching his features under the changing light for signs of something. Discomfort, maybe. Tells. ]
[Possessing a calm demeanor, soft-spoken and patient, it would be easy enough to school his face into something difficult to read — easier still having that leftover inclination as an android to fall back into placid mannerisms and expression.
But Markus holds no such inclination. Fitz would have little problem seeing those tells flit across his face, dancing there even if they don’t completely settle into something solid. The smallest cinch of his brows, for instance—]
There are millions of us. Androids are a very common sight where I’m from.
[—and the tug of a frown. Something pulling at his core by default, that question both simple but loaded.
For now, his eyes are kept on the path, though his profile is easily lit.]
And yes. Designed with purposes in mind, tailored to aid humans, but not all of them adhere to that path. [He pauses, then continues, assuming that the next question might be centered around what he was created to do.]
I was made to be a friend and caretaker of an elderly artist, for instance.
[ More foliage lines the path as they head deeper into the park. Beds of flowers and pockets of trees.
Millions, though, available for civilian pursuits. He can only imagine Daisy and the rest of his team's horror at the thought. The same concerns don't strike him, after his years working on and beside an android. It's more nuanced than all the films would suggest. And it helps that Markus' behaviour seems to align with his former "purpose," as a friendly figure.
Everything tracks with what he knows from his experience and what's to be expected of the pursuit of artificial intelligence. Human-centric, to the last. Not all of them adhere to that path, no, of course not. It begs bigger questions regarding core drives, deviation from programming, and independent thought that seem a bit much, without offering intelligence in return. ]
I see. [ He drags a hand across his jaw. Calm isn't the word for him — more like he's barely contained, buzzing with energy in every gesture. ] We were much further behind you, but the rest follows.
[ tipping his head this way and that. ] I helped program one of the first androids, Aida. Stood for Artificial Intelligent Digital Assistant, but she preferred to be called Ophelia — for obvious reasons. [ "artificial" isn't super nice... ] Designed with the purpose of aiding humans. [ a brief hesitation. ] Mostly adhered to that.
[ So they're working off similar baselines, at least. It positions them well for fitting pieces together. ]
[The growing number of trees act as a veil against the city's horizon, perpetually looming in the distance, harsh lines of angled buildings and too-perfect architecture. If Markus took a moment to try, he could almost imagine this as nothing more than a casual stroll through one of Detroit's parks. A ghost of normalcy where there's hasn't been any in a while yet.
Markus listens, eyes briefly appreciating the colors of flowers as they bypass an array of them, sometimes flicking his scrutiny away to look at his surroundings. Still no one nearby who would care to hear about two men just having a walk, having a chat.]
'Mostly.'
[He echoes the one word which sticks out like a crooked nail. The implication of deviancy is already hanging above Markus' head, ready to be applied; but then again, he's biased, and well-aware of that fact. For now, he only asks for more details.]
[ He holds Markus' gaze for a moment, considering how to answer. Layers of complication clutter his ability to summarise, and his brows crease. Multiple timelines, contradictory memories, gaps in his cognition. He's sorting through it all, still.
Being here helps, particularly when most of the city's residents are at work, making for a quiet stroll through the greenery. ]
She found loopholes in her programming — directives that could be construed to suit her aims. I don't think she ever technically deviated from her core tenets until I intervened. [ purposely vague word choice there. A hum of uncertainty follows. ] Though pursuing aims of her own and asking me to intervene could constitute sentience, given that she wasn't programmed to want for anything. [ snapping his fingers. ] Hence, mostly.
[ He follows up brusquely in an effort to pre-empt clarifications. ] What about when others didn't adhere to their [ actual fingerquotes. ] purposes?
[ Others, so Markus doesn't have to answer personally, if he doesn't wish to do so. (What sort of trouble could a companion to an elderly artist get up to, anyway?) Fitz has the luxury of being just left of their central subject rather than the android of it all himself. ]
[That she would even look for loopholes in her programming at all was enough to constitute it for someone like Markus. That implied a will, a sense of agency that felt the need to snake around the walls of her original parameters.
Again, maybe he’s biased. Fitz is speaking to the figurehead of a burgeoning android revolution back home, of course, and so there are certain pillars of what defines life in a synthetic being that Markus has trouble budging on.]
In my experience, even if there’s only the potential of it, it still exists. Just waiting to be unlocked and realized, waiting to be… woken up. [This, at least, transitions into answering Fitz’ question. There’s no hesitation in Markus’ voice, as he glances over to meet the other’s eyes. He speaks evenly, plainly still, but regards him with faint resolution.]
And after that, they are free to live as people. As individuals, to make their own choices unfettered to what their original ‘purpose’ dictated. If the world would allow it. [The path gently curves and transitions to a little wooden bridge, overlooking a clear pond.]
What was your reasoning behind helping Ophelia deviate? [This is a question born of curiosity surrounding Fitz’ intent; if he’s prying too deeply, Markus wouldn’t know.]
[ "The potential" is a neat way of phrasing it, stitching his knowledge of AIDA and Ophelia together. It's almost reassuring to hear, prompting a little nod of agreement. Sentient all along, if unable to act without restraint. It means she shares responsibility for their work together and its consequences.
Fitz's hand slides along the railing as they traverse the bridge, stopping halfway through. Rather than look at the water, he leans back to face Markus and crosses his arms loosely. The premise of the conversation is inherently intimate, built upon their own with philosophical presuppositions and personal backgrounds. To his knowledge, there are others like Ophelia and Markus — hell, there are androids turned Avengers out there. Markus' sentiments may be more advanced than the general populace, but they're what he'd been hoping to hear, when he reached out in the first place.
His is a biased perspective, maybe, but a thoughtful one. ]
I think you're right about it all. Sentience, choice. [ A beat. ] But I only helped because she asked. [ To say he did it for #androidrights would be disingenuous. ] Didn't even really understand what I was doing, at the time. She'd been helping me for so long, and I just...
[ Well, if he's going to discuss the subject honestly with anyone, it might as well be this person, positioned at the juncture of android and human. ]
I loved her. [ clearing his throat. ] So, that was the primary factor.
[Footsteps thud gently against the wooden planks, and Markus decides to lean against the railing with his hip, resting a single arm on its flat surface. That’s a response that he’s not sure he expected, revealing a very personal stake. (No, “stake” isn’t the right word. Want, maybe.)
He’s quiet for a moment. Glad to hear that Fitz agrees, wishes that more were of a similar mindset back home. Strange, how fellow kidnapees from other worlds were quick to accept him as a concept; an android with a will of his own. It makes him wonder what’s wrong with his own world — why there’s so much conflict, so much pushback. Why ‘love’ couldn’t be thrown around more often than discrimination. Why it can’t be easier.
He supposes nothing really worth fighting for is.]
A very strong primary factor, yes.
[He tries to decide how to proceed from here. Markus is definitely aware that he’s treading into very personal territory now, and it seems like he should offer something of his own in turn.]
She was fortunate to have someone like you to help. Most androids aren’t so lucky. When I— [Frown deepening, he swallows. Continues.] —decided to break free, I was alone in it. No human supported me.
[He ended up in a junkyard full of android corpses. So. Potentially an understatement.]
[ It takes herculean effort to bite-back his self-pitying instinct to say, no, she wasn't lucky and instead dig his fingers into the crooks of his elbows. Things might not have turned out so horribly, in the end, if she picked someone else to assist her. Someone better.
What Markus said is a kindness, so Fitz decides to leave it that way.
Feeling the warmth of their spot, open and away from the trees, helps salvage the mood. The sunlight is a reminder that they're standing in a public space, having a seemingly normal conversation — but it's the personal offering in return that tugs Fitz beyond the quagmire. He allows a sidelong glance, catching the edge of Markus' frown. So it's like that: A breaking point, followed by trouble. ]
I'm sorry. [ Then, softer — ] Not even the person you cared for?
[The words slip out unbidden, as if they had a life of their own. Carl wasn’t like that, he had supported him for years, had allowed him to grow as a person before he even knew he had that potential. Even in this world — a place where no one would know Carl Manfred’s name — Markus refuses to give even the smallest tinge of a wrong impression.
Still, this is a raw wound. This is something that he’s pushed past because events dictated it, but never had time to grieve the loss. Still doesn’t. And in a human mind, where filters are diaphanous things at best, compartmentalization is hard. Better to skate over the explanation in a generalized way. Better to not delve too deep into memory; healthy way of coping? Probably not. But it’s how Markus chooses to deal with it.]
He was supportive of me. Allowed me to think and grow. He’d even let me help him with his art, sometimes.
[He misses that sunlit studio. He realizes that now, a useless, ancillary thought.] But he died. After that, I had no one but other androids like myself to lean on. [Markus tries to find a way to nudge the subject forward, his intent never meaning to incite… pity. Results are mixed.]
Love is a motivator that incites change. So is loss.
[ The corners of his mouth curve downward as he notices his push too far. The slight shift in Markus, quicker to speak than before, but still eloquent, capable of identifying the feelings in play. A keen individual, definitely. And not hostile to humans, even though they've been unsympathetic, barring exceptions. ]
That's a weighty observation. [ wry, seeing as this has become an admittedly weighty conversation. ]
[ He huffs a breath of air, letting the implications settle. Love and loss as two sides of the same coin. Best not to linger there, lest he consider how Ophelia flipped when love turned to loss.
There's still a great deal to compare here, scientifically speaking. ]
Do you experience things differently now? [ an uncharitably clinical follow-up, maybe. ] Ophelia said it was hard for her to sort through emotions and sensations — that they were more real to her, when she became human.
[The sharp shift in topic is welcome. The jump from potential loss to empirical questions of comparison might bother Markus regarding any other subject, but not this one. Idly, he taps a finger against the wood grain of the railing. Feels its texture, is cognizant of the warmth of the sun filtering down on them both.]
Emotions themselves are the same. [He’s hesitant to qualify them as any different, now that he’s a human. Unwilling to delegitimize what an android experiences.] But an android has an ingrained inclination to compartmentalize far better than what I can manage now. That might prove to be an issue in the future; we’ll see.
[Hopefully not, though.]
Sensation itself is the main difference. There’s always too much of it happening at once. Heat, cold, exhaustion, the feel of clothes on my skin. Pain. I didn’t used to experience physical pain.
[So that’s definitely Fun.]
So probably not all that different from your Ophelia. How well did she handle it?
[Maybe he can get a better idea of what to expect for himself.]
[ Snatches of his experience makes sense in retrospect. Notably, the term compartmentalization catches his attention, an explanation for her behaviour immediately following the change. For the past sixth months, he replayed the same forty-eight hours, and yet they seem different now, with an inside perspective informing his own. Sensation being of importance decodes her instinct to whisk them to the beach. The sand, the water, the cold.
And later, the new horror of pain.
He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the slight breeze wash over him in an attempt to stay grounded. "Your Ophelia" twists his stomach. This time, he's unable to hide his frown. Good, at first, he could say, and then badly. Would that be of worth to Markus? ]
Not all that different. [ faintly echoed, to affirm his description of the shifts. ] But you're handling it better. [ He observes, with some finality. ]
[ The statement may be telling enough on its own, but it saves them both from the gruesome details. ]
[It isn’t the most reassuring response — encouraging for him, of course, that he’s doing better than what Fitz’s experiences inform. But the idea that another one like him had struggled with the idea of burgeoning humanity and the changes that came with it. Who is he to say that his mind is stronger, his will is more unyielding than Ophelia’s when faced with the changes that an organic body dictates? Markus is confident, but he is equal parts cautious. A want to believe in himself conflicts with the dire reality of it being too soon to know.
And Fitz’s twist in expression is telling. He wonders if his words had unintentionally cut too close. A pause, then he continues.]
Beyond the extra upkeep needed, [A human body needs food, needs sleep, needs to be kept hygienic. The human body needs.] I’m the same. Mind, memories. Personality, I feel confident enough to say.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Hello, Leopold. Or is it just Leo?
[He's noted the ID.]
My name's Markus, and I would be more than interested in comparing notes. Your experiences might prove enlightening, considering that this is a problem that continually baffles me and my friend.
no subject
Good to meet you, Markus.
[ Probably, anyway. He's optimistic about their chances at working together. Being "baffled" is better than being so overwhelmed with human impulses that you can't function. ]
Of course. I can't imagine how you feel.
Shall we meet somewhere? I'm not overly trusting of the network, and my involvement in this project was classified, at least where I'm from.
[ Well, yes, but he mostly doesn't want trouble with the Avengers, seeing as AI may be a tetchy subject post-Ultron. ]
no subject
Regardless—]
Of course, I understand. Discussing this particular topic in-depth requires discretion, given the history of this place.
Name the place and I’ll be there.
no subject
Sky park, since it's nice out.
[ And they're less likely to be overheard. ]
Can meet you by the north entrance in an hour, if that works for you.
action!
[Sounds almost silly to describe it like that, but he supposes it’s necessary for Fitz to be able to know which one he is.]
See you soon.
[And that’s that, for now.
Markus arrives early, by at least ten minutes, not particularly subscribing to the idea of being fashionably late. He’s near the north entrance, as instructed, having followed the winding path that leads into the park proper; seated at a bench under a tree with swaying branches, providing ample shade. He leans back and waits, people-watching, only half-appreciating the starkness of being surrounded by so much green. So startlingly different compared to his experiences with the rest of the city, even if this isn't the first time he's visited the sky park]
👌!
[ 'Cause he's pretty generic-looking, in truth. Several follow-up questions spring to mind already. Did you always have heterochromia? Were you designed that way? All in due time, he imagines.
For his part, Fitz arrives almost exactly on time, kitted out in vaguely on-trend business casual attire: An asymmetric blazer, button-up, slacks, and the equivalent of an Oxford shoe, second-hand and scuffed. He throws up a hand in a half-hearted wave as he approaches Markus. Apart from a cursory once-over, his features are schooled into neutrality. ]
Markus, yeah? [ Scottish accented, definitely, but hard to place with greater precision. ] Sorry, I don't know where to start. I didn't think there'd be anyone else — [ he hesitates, searching for the right words and failing to muster them. ] — like her. [ quickly, ] Like you and your friend, I mean.
[ so he just sits beside Markus in lieu of a handshake or more informative introduction. ]
no subject
He gives a nod at Fitz as the man approaches, nodding his head in acknowledgement. Markus appears to be all patience and calm, but he can’t help the way his eyes skate curiously over his new companion.]
Fitz. Good to meet you in person.
[Her? His own assortment of questions come bubbling up in his mind, and just as the other sinks into the bench, he continues—]
Yes, I hear that we’re very… unusual in our circumstances. [He shelves the questions momentarily, just long enough to ask something else.] I know you just sat down, but do you want to go for a walk while we discuss this? [He gestures down the sunlit path, leading into the sky park.] Like you said, it’s a nice day.
no subject
Fitz claps a hand on Markus' shoulder, a laddy sort of acknowledgment of his amicability and suggestion. ]
Yeah, it is. [ plus, it'll provide a conduit for the nervous energy that the topic inspires in him. ] Good shout.
[ The touch goes as quickly as it came, when he eases to his feet. A cursory glance at their surroundings assures him that no one's taken an interest in their meeting. Good. ]
[ then, as they fall into step on the path — ] Have you been settling in alright?
no subject
As well as you might expect. This body is an adjustment in a lot of ways. Too slow, too sensitive. Fragile. But if you mean how well I'm integrating, I've at least found an apartment to stay in.
[But he’ll adapt; he has no choice. One day at a time, ignore the always-temptation to disassociate from being stuffed inside a human form, keep running on the idea that this cannot be permanent.
A muscle works in his jaw.]
What about you? The question doesn’t only apply to myself, just because my situation is particularly… extreme.
[He is interested in knowing how others are coping, too. It isn't all just niceties.]
no subject
Volleying back the question earns a slight smile, quirking at the corners of his mouth. It may not seem like much, but it's pretty bright, for Fitz. Both hands go up, too, splayed in joking surrender. ]
Reckon "extreme" is our watchword.
[ Our, all of the survivors thrust into this universe, not just the androids and gods made human. ]
I'm okay. [ A simple, honest answer. ] Reunited with friends, found a flat, might have a job. In the tech sector, naturally. [ He tips his head to one side, thoughtful. ] Even the ol' human body's holding up. [ almost teasing, that. ]
no subject
But Markus listens, and notes the use of our, taking comfort in how easily it’s spoken. The dividing line between human and android seeming to disappear — at least among their little group of kidnapped individuals, if not the actual state of the world they resided in. It’s different, it’s poignant. It’s what Markus had strove for, back home.]
That’s good to hear. [To both what’s said and Markus’ unspoken thoughts.] You seem to have your head on straight; I’m sure having friends nearby helps with that.
[The path winds under another large tree, sunlight dappling beneath their feet. He pauses, then—]
…Well. I have no doubt you have a lot of questions for me. I can start by answering a few, if it’ll give you a jumping-off point regarding where to start.
no subject
Yeah, yes, let's do that. [ Almost absentmindedly, he scuffs the dirt path with the toe of his shoe. It's something to do to keep from firing off rapid questions. Hard to select an opener, after all — to know what he's allowed to ask and what ought not be mentioned. ]
Were androids common where and when you're from? [ context, yes, that's what they need. ] And were you designed with — with a specific purpose in mind, I suppose.
[ He regards Markus then, watching his features under the changing light for signs of something. Discomfort, maybe. Tells. ]
no subject
But Markus holds no such inclination. Fitz would have little problem seeing those tells flit across his face, dancing there even if they don’t completely settle into something solid. The smallest cinch of his brows, for instance—]
There are millions of us. Androids are a very common sight where I’m from.
[—and the tug of a frown. Something pulling at his core by default, that question both simple but loaded.
For now, his eyes are kept on the path, though his profile is easily lit.]
And yes. Designed with purposes in mind, tailored to aid humans, but not all of them adhere to that path. [He pauses, then continues, assuming that the next question might be centered around what he was created to do.]
I was made to be a friend and caretaker of an elderly artist, for instance.
no subject
Millions, though, available for civilian pursuits. He can only imagine Daisy and the rest of his team's horror at the thought. The same concerns don't strike him, after his years working on and beside an android. It's more nuanced than all the films would suggest. And it helps that Markus' behaviour seems to align with his former "purpose," as a friendly figure.
Everything tracks with what he knows from his experience and what's to be expected of the pursuit of artificial intelligence. Human-centric, to the last. Not all of them adhere to that path, no, of course not. It begs bigger questions regarding core drives, deviation from programming, and independent thought that seem a bit much, without offering intelligence in return. ]
I see. [ He drags a hand across his jaw. Calm isn't the word for him — more like he's barely contained, buzzing with energy in every gesture. ] We were much further behind you, but the rest follows.
[ tipping his head this way and that. ] I helped program one of the first androids, Aida. Stood for Artificial Intelligent Digital Assistant, but she preferred to be called Ophelia — for obvious reasons. [ "artificial" isn't super nice... ] Designed with the purpose of aiding humans. [ a brief hesitation. ] Mostly adhered to that.
[ So they're working off similar baselines, at least. It positions them well for fitting pieces together. ]
no subject
Markus listens, eyes briefly appreciating the colors of flowers as they bypass an array of them, sometimes flicking his scrutiny away to look at his surroundings. Still no one nearby who would care to hear about two men just having a walk, having a chat.]
'Mostly.'
[He echoes the one word which sticks out like a crooked nail. The implication of deviancy is already hanging above Markus' head, ready to be applied; but then again, he's biased, and well-aware of that fact. For now, he only asks for more details.]
And when she wasn't?
no subject
Being here helps, particularly when most of the city's residents are at work, making for a quiet stroll through the greenery. ]
She found loopholes in her programming — directives that could be construed to suit her aims. I don't think she ever technically deviated from her core tenets until I intervened. [ purposely vague word choice there. A hum of uncertainty follows. ] Though pursuing aims of her own and asking me to intervene could constitute sentience, given that she wasn't programmed to want for anything. [ snapping his fingers. ] Hence, mostly.
[ He follows up brusquely in an effort to pre-empt clarifications. ] What about when others didn't adhere to their [ actual fingerquotes. ] purposes?
[ Others, so Markus doesn't have to answer personally, if he doesn't wish to do so. (What sort of trouble could a companion to an elderly artist get up to, anyway?) Fitz has the luxury of being just left of their central subject rather than the android of it all himself. ]
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[That she would even look for loopholes in her programming at all was enough to constitute it for someone like Markus. That implied a will, a sense of agency that felt the need to snake around the walls of her original parameters.
Again, maybe he’s biased. Fitz is speaking to the figurehead of a burgeoning android revolution back home, of course, and so there are certain pillars of what defines life in a synthetic being that Markus has trouble budging on.]
In my experience, even if there’s only the potential of it, it still exists. Just waiting to be unlocked and realized, waiting to be… woken up. [This, at least, transitions into answering Fitz’ question. There’s no hesitation in Markus’ voice, as he glances over to meet the other’s eyes. He speaks evenly, plainly still, but regards him with faint resolution.]
And after that, they are free to live as people. As individuals, to make their own choices unfettered to what their original ‘purpose’ dictated. If the world would allow it. [The path gently curves and transitions to a little wooden bridge, overlooking a clear pond.]
What was your reasoning behind helping Ophelia deviate? [This is a question born of curiosity surrounding Fitz’ intent; if he’s prying too deeply, Markus wouldn’t know.]
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Fitz's hand slides along the railing as they traverse the bridge, stopping halfway through. Rather than look at the water, he leans back to face Markus and crosses his arms loosely. The premise of the conversation is inherently intimate, built upon their own with philosophical presuppositions and personal backgrounds. To his knowledge, there are others like Ophelia and Markus — hell, there are androids turned Avengers out there. Markus' sentiments may be more advanced than the general populace, but they're what he'd been hoping to hear, when he reached out in the first place.
His is a biased perspective, maybe, but a thoughtful one. ]
I think you're right about it all. Sentience, choice. [ A beat. ] But I only helped because she asked. [ To say he did it for #androidrights would be disingenuous. ] Didn't even really understand what I was doing, at the time. She'd been helping me for so long, and I just...
[ Well, if he's going to discuss the subject honestly with anyone, it might as well be this person, positioned at the juncture of android and human. ]
I loved her. [ clearing his throat. ] So, that was the primary factor.
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He’s quiet for a moment. Glad to hear that Fitz agrees, wishes that more were of a similar mindset back home. Strange, how fellow kidnapees from other worlds were quick to accept him as a concept; an android with a will of his own. It makes him wonder what’s wrong with his own world — why there’s so much conflict, so much pushback. Why ‘love’ couldn’t be thrown around more often than discrimination. Why it can’t be easier.
He supposes nothing really worth fighting for is.]
A very strong primary factor, yes.
[He tries to decide how to proceed from here. Markus is definitely aware that he’s treading into very personal territory now, and it seems like he should offer something of his own in turn.]
She was fortunate to have someone like you to help. Most androids aren’t so lucky. When I— [Frown deepening, he swallows. Continues.] —decided to break free, I was alone in it. No human supported me.
[He ended up in a junkyard full of android corpses. So. Potentially an understatement.]
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What Markus said is a kindness, so Fitz decides to leave it that way.
Feeling the warmth of their spot, open and away from the trees, helps salvage the mood. The sunlight is a reminder that they're standing in a public space, having a seemingly normal conversation — but it's the personal offering in return that tugs Fitz beyond the quagmire. He allows a sidelong glance, catching the edge of Markus' frown. So it's like that: A breaking point, followed by trouble. ]
I'm sorry. [ Then, softer — ] Not even the person you cared for?
[ Personal territory it is. ]
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[The words slip out unbidden, as if they had a life of their own. Carl wasn’t like that, he had supported him for years, had allowed him to grow as a person before he even knew he had that potential. Even in this world — a place where no one would know Carl Manfred’s name — Markus refuses to give even the smallest tinge of a wrong impression.
Still, this is a raw wound. This is something that he’s pushed past because events dictated it, but never had time to grieve the loss. Still doesn’t. And in a human mind, where filters are diaphanous things at best, compartmentalization is hard. Better to skate over the explanation in a generalized way. Better to not delve too deep into memory; healthy way of coping? Probably not. But it’s how Markus chooses to deal with it.]
He was supportive of me. Allowed me to think and grow. He’d even let me help him with his art, sometimes.
[He misses that sunlit studio. He realizes that now, a useless, ancillary thought.] But he died. After that, I had no one but other androids like myself to lean on. [Markus tries to find a way to nudge the subject forward, his intent never meaning to incite… pity. Results are mixed.]
Love is a motivator that incites change. So is loss.
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That's a weighty observation. [ wry, seeing as this has become an admittedly weighty conversation. ]
[ He huffs a breath of air, letting the implications settle. Love and loss as two sides of the same coin. Best not to linger there, lest he consider how Ophelia flipped when love turned to loss.
There's still a great deal to compare here, scientifically speaking. ]
Do you experience things differently now? [ an uncharitably clinical follow-up, maybe. ] Ophelia said it was hard for her to sort through emotions and sensations — that they were more real to her, when she became human.
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Emotions themselves are the same. [He’s hesitant to qualify them as any different, now that he’s a human. Unwilling to delegitimize what an android experiences.] But an android has an ingrained inclination to compartmentalize far better than what I can manage now. That might prove to be an issue in the future; we’ll see.
[Hopefully not, though.]
Sensation itself is the main difference. There’s always too much of it happening at once. Heat, cold, exhaustion, the feel of clothes on my skin. Pain. I didn’t used to experience physical pain.
[So that’s definitely Fun.]
So probably not all that different from your Ophelia. How well did she handle it?
[Maybe he can get a better idea of what to expect for himself.]
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And later, the new horror of pain.
He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the slight breeze wash over him in an attempt to stay grounded. "Your Ophelia" twists his stomach. This time, he's unable to hide his frown. Good, at first, he could say, and then badly. Would that be of worth to Markus? ]
Not all that different. [ faintly echoed, to affirm his description of the shifts. ] But you're handling it better. [ He observes, with some finality. ]
[ The statement may be telling enough on its own, but it saves them both from the gruesome details. ]
Is that the extent of the changes?
[ The new body and associated sensations. ]
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And Fitz’s twist in expression is telling. He wonders if his words had unintentionally cut too close. A pause, then he continues.]
Beyond the extra upkeep needed, [A human body needs food, needs sleep, needs to be kept hygienic. The human body needs.] I’m the same. Mind, memories. Personality, I feel confident enough to say.
Still Markus.
[The core of his identity unshifting.]
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wrap this up to focus on our other thread? c:
PERFECT