[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.
[ At first, he only nods, following Markus' conclusions. The tense lines of his features smooth out as the topic shifts. ]
So it's like your consciousness, [ Fitz waves a hand at Markus, more to release nervous energy than illustrate anything specific. ] the entirety of you, Markus, [ it feels important to say his name, too, reiterating an acknowledgment of the personhood involved in any theorising. ] was just transferred to a different body.
[ His voice ticks up at the end, awaiting confirmation. This is the "science" of it all, in the loosest sense. New body, new rules. ]
[Except the "hale" part might be a little bit of a stretch, when you haven't quite come to accept a new body you never asked for.
He shifts his weight to the other foot.]
Though that begs a different question; where's my original body? What's being done with it? [Oh, that makes him frown, his features darkening. A very disturbing thought, his true self stored away somewhere, empty and lifeless. Markus lifts his eyes back to Fitz, straightening the line of his shoulders.]
...How did you do it? How did Ophelia gain a human body?
[ The bodies ought to be in storage somewhere. No sense in getting rid of them. Perhaps that's unsettling scenario-thinking.
Fitz stands upright, digging one hand into the railing. It takes him a minute to formulate his explanation. In all honesty, he remains unsure of the science, given Ophelia's own work on the project and his recent cognitive slippage. ]
Most bodies are occupied already, aren't they? And they're not adaptable, so to speak. [ without missing a beat. ] So, you have to make one, purpose-built — which I'm aware sounds Frankenstein-esque. And ethically questionable, at best. It is that. Both of those things. [ said with a measure of firmness, despite his verbal stumbles. He makes a point to meet Markus' eyes. ]
Took almost a decade of research, with all the resources and minds at a... top corporation on deck to troubleshoot. Collected samples from all types of individuals, so we had a variety of DNA — human blueprints, in a sense, to pull from. [ He huffs a breath of air. ] And we had access to someone else's designs for generating matter using quantum physics, which provided the means of creating the body, with some tweaks. [ marvel??? science?? ] It's advanced, borderline otherworldly stuff, if you can believe that.
[He listens, understanding the concepts in generalized terms, not hoping to ask for details because Markus knows the limits of his own knowledge and understanding. Just because he's an android doesn't mean he could hope to comprehend the ins and outs of quantum physics and theory, which were apparently applied in heavy doses to grant Ophelia her human body.
The nitty gritty of the details hardly matter that much, anyway. It's only the process itself that Markus is interested in, wondering if the same was applied to him in this place. If a body was... catered to be like himself, what he already had looked like, for the sake of easy integration. Easy integration. He almost laughs at himself for the thought.]
After what's happened to me here, I'll believe it. And that's impressive, but what I'm also hearing is that none of it was easy.
[It took time and exceptional resources. Frankensteining DNA together to create a new, unmanned body for an AI that wanted to inhabit it.]
If that's similar to what happened to me, they managed to recreate my original body down to every detail. Every imperfection, every little nuance. Is it possible to DNA match someone that was never organic in the first place?
[ easy prompts a huff of air, not a laugh, no, but it might have become one in a lighter conversation. ]
Who's to say you can't scan and print a body here, with all the other advances in technology? [ people aren't that much more than designs. Internal programming from life events instead of code, external wear-and-tear that requires repairs. It's far from easy, but he imagines it's as possible as time travel, dimension hopping, and the forced integration of powers on individuals without the inhuman gene. ]
People have been forging art for centuries. [ with enough detail to trick the experts. ] Our likenesses can't be considered an insurmountable obstacle.
[ Fitz could be a copy, too — another life-model decoy or an upload to a VR simulation. It only matters in that it impacts his route back to his home universe. ]
[Even for an android like Markus, someone who was quite literally made of advanced tech — for his time, at least — has difficulties wrapping his mind around it. He thinks of bodies being sculpted or grown or organically printed like in those dystopian novels, or the movies, the ones thematically centered around the question of identity, reality, and the consequences of playing god. But as applied to reality, it's so far beyond his experiences; so much that even as Fitz speaks, and Markus understanding, it all sounds so very fantastical.
And yet something to consider, nonetheless.
The mention of forging art has him shaking his head a little, the tug at the corner of his mouth betraying empty, dry amusement.]
Given that my original likeness was designed by outside hands, then I have a hard time arguing against your point. So should I consider it generous that they were kind enough to "match" me to how I was?
[It's obvious from Markus' intonation that he's not ever going to ever equate kindness to their interdimensional kidnappers.]
[ Another not-quite-laugh. Unking is the multiversal MO. ]
I imagine it suited their aims. [ splaying his hands, as if that's a normal logic jump for a person to make. Maybe it is, given the nefarious circumstances of their capture and release. ] You might not be of use, if you were struggling with further changes to your person.
[ of use as a weapon, as the prevailing theory goes. ]
[Words echoed with something that coils around his insides, squeezing tightly. Of use, to be used -- for a purpose unknown, admittedly, but everything Markus is and stands for absolutely writhes at the idea.]
Of use for what? [He's heard that prevailing theory. And if he's to be honest, he would've been a far more effective weapon if they had just left him in his android body.]
[ Fitz sorts through various scenarios, with some more grounded in the evidence thus far than others. He pulls theories from his own experiences, too, working for and against HYDRA. ]
As a weapon, [ that's the big one, thanks to El's contributions on the network. ] or a test-run of man-made bodies. Perhaps an experiment on integrating unnatural abilities with different hosts, purpose-built bodies [ He gestures at Markus and then back to himself. ] versus pre-existing hardware.
[ It's possible that they won't be able to withstand the alterations to their persons in the long-term. Foreign DNA and wetware, inhuman abilities — they take a toll on the body. ]
But that's all conjecture.
[ And he's a pessimist with too much time for considering all the ways this ends terribly. ]
[A moment for all of that to settle. Theories beyond 'we're all weapons' have flitted through his mind on occasion, but hearing them from Fitz? That seems to solidify them, give them more credibility, though he's only just met the man.
And finally, his reply is just a huff of air. Humor strained, and he pushes himself off the wooden railing, gesturing for Fitz to continue walking with him.]
Isn't it all? I suppose, one way or another, we'll find out eventually. If there's a purpose behind us, it won't be long before that purpose becomes clear.
[If they're made to be tools, well. Tools are meant to be used, not observed.
The path leads into sunlight again. A long stretch uninterrupted by the usual branches hanging overhead.]
...I appreciate you sharing all of this with me, by the way. When I arrived here, I had initially thought I'd have trouble- [A pause searching for the right word.] -connecting with humans. Fostering trust.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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. ]
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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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So it's like your consciousness, [ Fitz waves a hand at Markus, more to release nervous energy than illustrate anything specific. ] the entirety of you, Markus, [ it feels important to say his name, too, reiterating an acknowledgment of the personhood involved in any theorising. ] was just transferred to a different body.
[ His voice ticks up at the end, awaiting confirmation. This is the "science" of it all, in the loosest sense. New body, new rules. ]
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[Except the "hale" part might be a little bit of a stretch, when you haven't quite come to accept a new body you never asked for.
He shifts his weight to the other foot.]
Though that begs a different question; where's my original body? What's being done with it? [Oh, that makes him frown, his features darkening. A very disturbing thought, his true self stored away somewhere, empty and lifeless. Markus lifts his eyes back to Fitz, straightening the line of his shoulders.]
...How did you do it? How did Ophelia gain a human body?
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[ The bodies ought to be in storage somewhere. No sense in getting rid of them. Perhaps that's unsettling scenario-thinking.
Fitz stands upright, digging one hand into the railing. It takes him a minute to formulate his explanation. In all honesty, he remains unsure of the science, given Ophelia's own work on the project and his recent cognitive slippage. ]
Most bodies are occupied already, aren't they? And they're not adaptable, so to speak. [ without missing a beat. ] So, you have to make one, purpose-built — which I'm aware sounds Frankenstein-esque. And ethically questionable, at best. It is that. Both of those things. [ said with a measure of firmness, despite his verbal stumbles. He makes a point to meet Markus' eyes. ]
Took almost a decade of research, with all the resources and minds at a... top corporation on deck to troubleshoot. Collected samples from all types of individuals, so we had a variety of DNA — human blueprints, in a sense, to pull from. [ He huffs a breath of air. ] And we had access to someone else's designs for generating matter using quantum physics, which provided the means of creating the body, with some tweaks. [ marvel??? science?? ] It's advanced, borderline otherworldly stuff, if you can believe that.
[ life's weird these days. ]
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The nitty gritty of the details hardly matter that much, anyway. It's only the process itself that Markus is interested in, wondering if the same was applied to him in this place. If a body was... catered to be like himself, what he already had looked like, for the sake of easy integration. Easy integration. He almost laughs at himself for the thought.]
After what's happened to me here, I'll believe it. And that's impressive, but what I'm also hearing is that none of it was easy.
[It took time and exceptional resources. Frankensteining DNA together to create a new, unmanned body for an AI that wanted to inhabit it.]
If that's similar to what happened to me, they managed to recreate my original body down to every detail. Every imperfection, every little nuance. Is it possible to DNA match someone that was never organic in the first place?
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Who's to say you can't scan and print a body here, with all the other advances in technology? [ people aren't that much more than designs. Internal programming from life events instead of code, external wear-and-tear that requires repairs. It's far from easy, but he imagines it's as possible as time travel, dimension hopping, and the forced integration of powers on individuals without the inhuman gene. ]
People have been forging art for centuries. [ with enough detail to trick the experts. ] Our likenesses can't be considered an insurmountable obstacle.
[ Fitz could be a copy, too — another life-model decoy or an upload to a VR simulation. It only matters in that it impacts his route back to his home universe. ]
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And yet something to consider, nonetheless.
The mention of forging art has him shaking his head a little, the tug at the corner of his mouth betraying empty, dry amusement.]
Given that my original likeness was designed by outside hands, then I have a hard time arguing against your point. So should I consider it generous that they were kind enough to "match" me to how I was?
[It's obvious from Markus' intonation that he's not ever going to ever equate kindness to their interdimensional kidnappers.]
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I imagine it suited their aims. [ splaying his hands, as if that's a normal logic jump for a person to make. Maybe it is, given the nefarious circumstances of their capture and release. ] You might not be of use, if you were struggling with further changes to your person.
[ of use as a weapon, as the prevailing theory goes. ]
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[Words echoed with something that coils around his insides, squeezing tightly. Of use, to be used -- for a purpose unknown, admittedly, but everything Markus is and stands for absolutely writhes at the idea.]
Of use for what? [He's heard that prevailing theory. And if he's to be honest, he would've been a far more effective weapon if they had just left him in his android body.]
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As a weapon, [ that's the big one, thanks to El's contributions on the network. ] or a test-run of man-made bodies. Perhaps an experiment on integrating unnatural abilities with different hosts, purpose-built bodies [ He gestures at Markus and then back to himself. ] versus pre-existing hardware.
[ It's possible that they won't be able to withstand the alterations to their persons in the long-term. Foreign DNA and wetware, inhuman abilities — they take a toll on the body. ]
But that's all conjecture.
[ And he's a pessimist with too much time for considering all the ways this ends terribly. ]
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And finally, his reply is just a huff of air. Humor strained, and he pushes himself off the wooden railing, gesturing for Fitz to continue walking with him.]
Isn't it all? I suppose, one way or another, we'll find out eventually. If there's a purpose behind us, it won't be long before that purpose becomes clear.
[If they're made to be tools, well. Tools are meant to be used, not observed.
The path leads into sunlight again. A long stretch uninterrupted by the usual branches hanging overhead.]
...I appreciate you sharing all of this with me, by the way. When I arrived here, I had initially thought I'd have trouble- [A pause searching for the right word.] -connecting with humans. Fostering trust.
[He's been proven wrong more than once.]
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wrap this up to focus on our other thread? c:
PERFECT