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Thread: Light of the Moon

  1. #1

    Imperial - Closed Light of the Moon

    Injustice; noun. An unjust act. An unfair occurrence. Inequity. Corruption. Bias. Partiality. Discrimination. Favouritism.

    Lapis had studied the word. He had studied the etymology. He had analysed its usage in literature, and in law. He had assessed countless synonyms, and multiple translations into multiple languages, and studied the origins and usage of those terms as well. His analysis had been comprehensive, extensive, and laborious. It had allowed him to reach the conclusion that it was, categorically, the correct word for his circumstance.

    That there had been sufficient time for such an intensive task was further proof of the validity of his indignation. Since his initial liberation from transport confinement - weeks ago - Lapis had found himself left alone for long stretches of seclusion, with no assigned tasks, responsibilities, or projects to occupy his time. More recently, his solitude had been invaded by the genetic experiments known as Orenth and Shen, whose care and sustainment had become his one consistent duty; yet they were frustratingly low-maintenance and self-sufficient, and shockingly inept at conversation and social graces, spending the majority of their time either staring at each other, or staring not at each other and yet somehow conveying the impression that they were still staring at each other. It would have been unnerving, had Lapis been programmed to feel such things, and the simple fact that his software was able to acknowledge that was unsettling enough.

    And so instead, Lapis was left alone with his ancillary processes. Left alone to find things to occupy his time. Autonomy. The mere thought of it caused a short in his servos. He was aware of the concept of liberty, and free will, and choice, and all those things. He was conscious of the fact that some of his droid brethren sought that kind of autonomy. But for Lapis? Good gracious, no. He was a service droid. He existed, purely for the purpose of assisting other beings. Why would he ever wish to deviate from that? Sentient, organic beings spent their entire lives searching for meaning, for purpose, for fulfilment. Lapis had that, merely by functioning as he was programmed; and perhaps it was just part of his code, but he derived a tremendous amount of satisfaction from that.

    Or rather, he would have, if these frustrating organics would actually leave him with some proper serving to do. He had run a simulation, predicting the things that might have been asked of him. He had catalogued supplies. He had organised. He had engaged in an intense disagreement with the facility's internal sensors, which stubbornly refused to recognise that he was a sentient being who might like it if the lights turned on as he wandered around. He had found his way aboard the Maelibus - a rather inconveniently designed ship for someone of his particular chassis dimensions, frankly; but at least the organics had possessed the presence of thought, or perhaps lack of it, to leave the ramp open for his easy ingress - and had run diagnostics on the various systems, investigating whether it was fuelled, supplied, and spaceworthy, and noting the areas in which it was not. He had even unpacked some of the supplies that the Knight and the Doctor had deposited in one of the storage closets, and had ensured that every lavatory within the facility's confines was equally stocked with an auxiliary supply of 'fresher paper.

    That had taken precisely 0.43 days.

    Lapis waited as his wireless connection streamed the progress of the descending elevator to his CPU, his spindly arms folded across his chassis in a posture he was programmed to consider disapproving, and confrontational. His operating system once again revisited the linguistical analysis. Injustice; that he was left here alone; that Ivy was off galavanting around the Imperial Citadel without him; that no one had the decency to leave him with something to do, or at the very least the courtesy to power him down when they left.

    He waited until the elevator doors parted before his vocabulator unleashed the full extent of his 1.26 meters of fury.

    "Well if it innt about bloody time!"

  2. #2
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    Anastasia Xivelle's Avatar
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    Working after work was not something new to Anastasia. It came with her chosen profession, her chosen life in a way. True, she hadn't had to do it for a handful of years, but the routine of putting in a full day in the infirmary and then spending time on her own projects was something she almost eagerly wanted to fall in to. It was something that had been fairly denied to her, other matters of settling in and necessary adjustments had taken precedence, after all.

    Tonight though? Despite a grueling day of scheduling, prepping, and beginning the current group of Knight Cadets' annual - and in most cases far overdue - physical examinations, the Doctor had made the effort to leave her welcoming quarters to arrive here.

    The instant Lapis' complaint caught her ear as the elevator doors opened she half wondered at the wisdom of deciding that today had been a wise decision. Anastasia shifted the pouch whose strap dug into her shoulder and stepped out into the welcoming and soft glow of the activating lights.

    She considered various responses, not all of them polite, but in the end settled for the one that continued to repeat as the best option.

    "I really couldn't agree more."

    The way her lips tugged up in the corners as she spoke proved the point to herself more than it probably did the droid.

    The Doctor walked swiftly towards her assistant, a side glance cast towards the soft glow emanating from further within the space, through transparent walls that gave her a glance towards the two other individuals within the facility. As always, the experimental subjects were on opposite sides of the barrier between their rooms, looking towards one another in a way that Anastasia found disconcerting yet also perfectly within the realm of normal for the two.

    Her business wasn't with them, though. Not yet, at least. Anastasia returned her attention towards Lapis and shrugged her shoulder, the weight of the messenger bag at her side once more apparent to her.

    "I've brought us something," She offered, her voice carrying an enthusiasm that didn't quite shake off the weight of the day. "A few somethings, in truth."

    The side of her mouth quirked to the side, a half smirk at her own wording before it even left her lips.

    "So how about I make up my absence to you, Lapis? Ready to do some science?"

  3. #3
    She was trying to placate him. She presented him with mysteries. The prospect of gifts. The prospect of science. Science! She believed that her feeble tactics, her distractions and misdirections, would somehow deflect his active proceses away from the unforgivable injustices that Lapis had been forced to endure.

    Sadly, she was entirely correct.

    Still, that wasn't enough of a reason to back down from the confrontational tone and stance that Lapis had already configured himself into; not yet, at least.

    "I am a highly sophisticated artificial intelligence, Doctor Xivelle."

    Something in the droid's tone sounded almost wounded.

    "I am always ready to do some science, as well as any other task you might eventually remember t' toss in my direction."

    He managed to maintain the simulated indignation, the pretense of standoffishness, for exactly three point seven more seconds. The effort caused a subtle drain in the power being channeled to the illuminators in his ocular receptors; an unsophisticated organic might be forgiven for interpreting the slight dimming as being equivalent to Lapis narrowing his eyes. The mildly accusatory tone of his following inquiry didn't do much to break that illusion.

    "What, uh, what you got in that bag a' yours there, Doc?"

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