bakerstreet | my blood is boiling; my brain's IBM

Entry tags:

[meme] shipping

my blood is boiling; my brain's IBM

NOT just A ROBOT
shipping meme

There's always a right tool for the job, be it as simple as a hammer for a nail or on up to the much, much more complex. In this, the near future, the new tool for the abstract, post-modern job is no longer from the humble tool box - it's robots. Robots have taken over most sectors, such as assembly, law enforcement, and even health care. Things run so much smoother when they're automated. Yet the most impressive factor is that robots have just recently begun to enter a sector previously believed to require human touch: the personal sector. From personal assistants to robo bodyguards to pleasurebots, most anyone who's anyone has a personal robot these days. Of course, humanity being the narcissistic charmers we are, all "companion" sector robots are made in our own beautiful image, or close to it.

But you know this. You have a personal robot, after all...or you are one.

Whether owner or robot, it's important to remember one key rule: robots, no matter how human they appear, cannot feel emotions. Any appearances thereof are programming in the AI.

Robots certainly, absolutely, cannot fall in love. Again, any appearances thereof are programming in the AI. If that's not the case, and "love" still seems present...

...well, a toll that no longer functions correctly may not be right for the job.

HOW TO PLAY ➟

Comment with your character, preference, and whether you want to play a human or a robot.
Reply to others.
Use the RNG to choose a prompt or pick one yourself.

OWNER ➟

Long Time Owner → You and your robot are a well-oiled machine, no pun intended.
New Purchase → Congratulations, you have your brand new personal bot!
Second Hand → Someone else owned this robot before you, but it can't be too damaged. There's no way you could afford a brand new one, anyway.
For Science! → Your interests in robots are purely scientific. No matter how yours begins to act towards you, honest!
Rescue → Whether you took them from the dump or from a bad owner, you brought this robot from the jaws of deletion.
Reluctant → You never wanted a robot, but you've got one thrust on you anyway.
Cruel → They're just a fancy computer, so you'll treat them however you like.
See the Humanity → Even if you know it's all machinery and programming, you can't help but see the human side of your robot. They shouldn't have to be a servant.
What's Real and What's Not → The lines are beginning to blur between real people and their emotions and your robot.
Incompatible → You can't be with a machine, either romantically or sexually. You're simply not compatible.
Too Engrossed → They say you've created a fantasy world. You're forgetting reality, or choosing to ignore it.
Don't Care → You won't listen to what the others say; you know how you feel.
Have to Pull Away → The close relationship you had with your robot has to be put aside for your own good.
Live a Normal Life → As much as you can, you and your robot live like a normal couple.
Bad End → Your robot is taken away, reprogrammed, or destroyed.

ROBOT ➟

The Perfect Robot → You know what you and exactly what you were made to do. You will not stray.
More Human than Human → Whoever programmed you made you to be just like a human.
Conflicted → There is no way you could have what they call "feelings." But what is this stirring in your circuitry?
Confused → Why do people treat you like a robot? You're a living thing, damn it!
Damaged → Somehow, you've been corrupted. You're a blank slate and have to be cared for, though it should be the opposite. Or it could be that you're showing erratic behavior that no robot should...
Shown Kindness → When you're treated kindly by a human, you are unsure how to process it. It makes you feel - content.
No Longer Just a Program → Your "love" and "affection" may have been shades and imitations at first, but that's not the case any longer.
Obsolete Model → You know you're old. Will you be forced to leave your master's side?
Jealousy → A robot should not feel jealous. Still, you envy those close to your master.
Job is Personal → You were programmed to protect or to serve, though you also do it because you...care
Second Chance → Your old master tossed you aside and now you are wary. But you've been given another chance instead of being used for scrap.
Rogue → There is no way you will be tied to the oppressive system. You refuse to serve the Living Things. Somehow, though, you've become aligned with one.
One of a Kind → There are no other robots like you, and perhaps you are intended for a sinister fate. Rather than face your true duty, you have escaped to take refuge with a human.
Specialty → You were created specifically for this one special person.
Reprogrammed → Because of previous defects, you were taken back to factory settings before. However, that treacherous virus, "love," is bubbling back up.
Android → You can't just forget the part of you that was - still is - organic.
Learn to Be Human → Despite the odds and the prejudices you both will face, you have decided to live as a free, living person with the one you care for most.
Bad End → You're to be junked, impacted, wiped clean, or taken away from your owner.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

[ That prompts a crackle of laughter- one that's startled out of Tony in a cascade of what he'll never admit to considering giggles, but that's more or less what they are. It aches to laugh but- the humor's appreciated. It helps settle him.

Shit went bad, he survived. Recovery's proceeding quicker than usual due to having Bruce on hand so- that's a bonus.

What might not be is- well. The saddest posture ever in every curled in line. Dum-E pulls it when he's sulking, Tony knows it, but- he's not quite sure how to read it in Bruce. ]

How much do I have to bribe you for a cup of coffee?

[ Don't worry, Tony, he's going to chalk the giggles up to the pain pill settling in. Opioids are a hell of a drug, especially if they make Bruce out to be funnier than he actually is. It might put a sort of secret, subtle curve to his lips - one he does his best to mute because he doesn't want to look like he approves of anything that just happened or is about to happen.

That question does earn Tony a sharp and incredulous look. ]

Hell no. [ He answers automatically, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. ] Seriously? No way, you're not mixing caffeine into what you've already got going on, Tony, you need sleep, for Christ's sake.

[ Is that the first time he's ever directly denied a request? It might very well be, it feels weird too, but it was an impulse reaction spewed from his mouth before he could even think about it. ]

[ Incredulity and irritation is a fair sight better than The Saddest Posture Ever, so Tony will take it, and the vitriol, without so much as a blink. Mission accomplished, Bruce no longer looks like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Though it does lead into a very interesting denial which- is also par the course of being in Tony's circle, Analog, Digital, or Synthetic being or no. He gets told 'no' plenty.

Usually the requests are played for laughs or a reaction, honestly, if he really wants or needs something he'll handle it himself.

Still. He raises his brows, offering Bruce his widest, saddest, most wounded eyes, like that might move him. ]

Not even decaf?

[ His expression filters into something annoyed, betrayed, maybe accusatory. How dare you level those eyes on him like that, making that face like he's the bad guy here. Ugh. Fine, maybe decaf, but-

First he's going to just eye Tony suspiciously on the off chance: ]

Your decaf is actually decaf, right? You didn't, I don't know, switch it with the strong stuff for when Pepper tries to decaffeinate you?

[ Just checking. He's got a Profile built. It's a serious possibility. ]

Edited 2018-08-17 19:57 (UTC)

[ The sad, wounded look drops immediately upon Bruce caving. It's not so much about wanting to be awake as it is about wanting something comforting and familiar. He got a little rattled. Coffee is familiar. It's grounding. Soothing. ]

See, a few years ago I tried that and ended up staying awake for seventy two hours and that was- yeah. Not a good time. So it is, in fact, decaf. Have J scan it if you don't trust me.

[ It'll be decaf, true to his word. A nice, light roast, relatively mild for moments like this. When he wants a cup but doesn't really want to be awake much longer (which is a rare fucking thing). ]

I trust you.

[ He says tentatively, even if he still sounds just a touch wary about it. Good to know his assessment hadn't been wrong. It was, in fact, a thing Tony'd done at some point even if it was no longer a relevant issue. He's pleased his behavioral expectations are holding true to reality.

So Bruce makes him coffee, strictly decaf in the way he's silently observed Tony make it for himself when he's not strictly drinking it for the chemical effect. He's taken in three weeks worth of habits, filed away the nuances of what Tony uses depending on his mood and his situation, and he thinks he's gotten it down pretty exact science even if this is the first time he's ever taken the liberty of making it himself.

He passes it off gently, but doesn't stick around to see the results of his hard work. No, he's got bigger priorities: namely, downloading a few dozen medical texts and integrating them into his primary drive. ]

[ In the moments when he doesn't want or need the stimulant? half ounce of cream, two spoons of sugar. A little sweet and milky, how Jarvis the First used to make for himself back in the day- made for them in the weeks following his parents demise when he was deemed old enough to sit up for a cuppa. It' a bittersweet kind of familiarity, but it's familiar none the less and all the more soothing for it.

There's a moment, briefly, where Tony almost does the usual request that Bruce set the mug down for him to pick up but- he doesn't want to see that hunch again. So he takes it. Sips slowly, eyes fluttering shut under the creamy warmth. ]

...thanks.

[ For the coffee. For patching him up. For not freaking out- for giving a damn even if it might be an obligatory one. For worrying. ]

[ There's a quiet moment where Bruce eyes him over his workstation. Eyes the softness in his expression as he says a single word that's probably meant to mean about a dozen different things. At the patch over his wound and the lines of his body, the exposed skin of his ribs.

And then he says: ]

You're welcome.

[ Because he is.

And he drops his eyes back to the monitor. ]

[ He manages to finish half his mug of coffee before he feels sleep start to take hold- Dum-E whirrs over to steal the mug from his loosening grip before he can spill it all over himself. It's happened before, reasons he's got an awareness of that particular posture of exhaustion. Healing is...slow. All around. No calls come in which is probably for the best- Tony drifts in and out of the lab, spending half his time dozing or reading in the common area for the other Avengers to wander past and reassure themselves that he's still alive. Pile in and watch terrible infomercials at the ass end of dawn when none of them can sleep.

He's either up there or in the lab, flicking through options for installing a semi-permanent or at least solidly reliable and coming up if not empty, but without solid options without taking risks with J's security that he's not willing to make.

Two weeks after he gets the papercut from hell Tony rolls to his feet, grabs a bundle of cable from his workstation, and waves to get Bruce's attention. ]

Hey, I need your hands for a few hours.

Oh, I'm... sure it wouldn't take that long.

[ He comments, and considering Tony didn't even get as far as telling him why, the only reasonable conclusion is it's a fucking dirty joke. The delivery, however, is deadpan and almost earnest.

Even so, he lowers his pen and folds his hands together, patiently waiting for an explanation on why and where. ]

[ For once he's not actively sipping coffee. He's leaning to TAKE the last swig of what's in his mug but hasn't yet gotten a mouthful- which is the one thing that saves him from choking. ]

Dirty boy. [ He wags his finger at Bruce. ] That- it would, it absolutely would, but no that's not why I need you. We're upgrading part of Jarvis' servers, I can't do it alone and Rhodey's out of the country. So- it's you.

[ His expression doesn't for a second falter, there isn't even a smile, but there's definitely still something. Some glint in his eye that gives away his amusement. Hard to pick out unless you're looking.

He only nods, pushing back his wheelie chair and rising. Generally whenever Tony wants to do something he wants to do it right now, which is fine. He'd simply been replaying a few recorded noninvasive procedures because apparently Tony's got lo-jack on the servers at John's Hopkins. Shocker. It's nothing that can't wait. ]

I've never actually seen Jarvis' servers.

[ He comments. Take that keen interest as him being on board. ]

They're in the sub-basement, below the reactor powering the building. Only way to access it is a private elevator from this level, or the garage. [ Both which require a retinal scan to get in because like hell Tony's letting just anyone crawl all up in his boy.

Said elevator's behind a rolling tool kit that he briefly considered making a swing-out shelf for secret door shenanigans but- didn't have time to finish it during the remodel and he's glad for the ease of access now. One retinal scan later has the doors peeling open with a soft hiss- Tony snags a box of wafer thin silicate sheets for the upgrade, a soldering kit, and two headlamps. ]

Sorry in advance for getting in you without taking you to dinner first, J.

I'll survive the scandal somehow, sir.

[ He's never seen the sub-basement either, which isn't a shock since he never ventures any farther than the lab and the suite made for him. One of these days Tony's going to probably pry him out of here to see The World, but until then he's content to exist in his bubble of solitude.

After all, he's got the internet.

His lips quirk up a little at Jarvis' dry response, but otherwise he accepts a headlamp easily and follows Tony's lead without much question or ado. ]

[ Tony ushers Bruce into the elevator, leaning against the back wall as they descend into the subbasement. It's a little smaller than the average so quarters are tight, but that's just how it worked out to keep it hidden from the public blueprints. ]

We'll be replacing and expanding a few of the towers to tighten up security. It'll make finding a back door into Latveria safer- I'd rather not invite Von Doom into the basement while sneaking a peek at whatever bullshit he's trying to develop. [ It's pretty straightforward. Crawl to the right tower, replace a few of the silicate sheets with upgraded hardware, lay some new cable, and they'll be back up in time for dinner.

Maybe. ]

Nah, by all means, let 'em come. Send him a dinner invitation.

[ Bruce replies, no small amount of disdain in his voice. He's carrying what he thinks is called a hate-on ever since Tony came stumbling in with about half his blood a few weeks back, and he doesn't bother hiding it now. He might not be an avenger but he wouldn't mind getting a chance to check out just how dense his bones are when he rams them down someone's throat.

Bruce, it seems, has something of a temper problem.

The elevator descends with startling smoothness, and they press shoulder to shoulder as it goes, Bruce with a little scowl on his face not because of the contact but because of the subject matter. ]

You joke but I might have to. As much of a shit as he is there's important diplomatic ground and resources to be found in Latveria and as a 'gesture of goodwill' or some bullshit? I'll host a very fancy dinner where very important political people gather around and pretend none of us know he's the maniac in tacky armor.

[ And bullshit robots. Von Doom is a pain in his ass he'll be happy to be rid of but until he can prove that they need to get rid of him? They have to endure.

Fun times.

He lists a little into Bruce subconsciously- glad for the contact, the warmth. And, honestly, trying to hide his laugh over Bruce's not insubstantial hateboner for Von Doom. ]

We get this sorted out, we'll be able to handle him without my getting skewered.

[ Sub basement and the air practically vibrates with the hum and thrum of the arc reactor just one floor above. The room they walk into is more of a narrow hallway that leads down a long path, pillars spaced on either side spreading back into the seemingly endless dark. There are...a lot of server towers. ]

Welcome to J's Brain.

I could slip a little somethin' in his food?

[ Bruce offers, and by the sound of it, it could be anything from a laxative to a mickey to arsenic. Really just depends on his mood at the time, he thinks.

He bears the steady added weight resolutely and without swaying in the slightest, but does glance over a little to survey Tony's face as he does it. The moment passes silently, and they're out. He follows easily, casting curious looks at anything and everything he can land his eyes on. It's a whole 'nother world down here, and even he can taste the coppery metallic tang of technology permeating the air around them.

It's kind of nice, actually. ]

Underwhelming.

[ He states, dry as ever, taking in the sheer number of towers. Jesus Christ. ]

I wish but that'd leave us prime suspects and I'd rather not deal with the whole 'someone died at a thing I ran', really makes arranging dinner parties difficult afterward.

[ But he's laughing, even though he probably shouldn't. Rhodey being protective is familiar and welcome, anyone else feeling the same is always a little- one part amusing and one part thoroughly enjoyable because it means he matters.

Seeing as he's the only one that can keep Bruce running if anything goes wrong he knows why he matters, but it's a nice feeling. ]

Now imagine all of this just- [ He holds his hands out in front of himself, roughly the size and shape of a human brain. ] That's what you've got, along with a separate wing for storage down here that I'm still getting set up- or I was before the aforementioned skewering.

[ Tony reaches out, casual as ever, to pat Bruce's shoulder as he pushes on, checking markers in his and J's shorthand on the ground to find the appropriate towers. It's a bit of a walk into the dark, but the thrum and hum of his youngest is familiar. Comforting. ]

So blame it on the android uprising, say you had me decomissioned, problem solved.

[ Which is... probably not something to joke about, he doesn't actually want to be decommissioned, he's just keeping the idea afloat idly. He's a little bit of a vindictive machine, hard to say where that's coming from. Chalk it up to weird temperament.

It does sort of put things in perspective, though, seeing the sheer amount of towers and the prospect of it all condensed down into a space inside his head. Makes him feel like he's vastly underutilizing it. Maybe he should add a few things to the medical knowledge he's been shoving in lately. He's got a passing interest in radiation. Hmm.

He's become far more accustomed to Tony's random and seemingly inconsequential touches, they earn him a soft sort of smile every time like an unstifled fondness. Bruce is on his heels a step behind, trailing his eyes over the shorthand and over the expression on Tony's face as he takes it all in.

Interesting. ]

No one would believe that I'd decommission you, is the thing.

[ Find a way to rehabilitate or adjust or assist so something like that doesn't happen again? Sure. Digital Therapy. But going straight to 'no you fucked up, time to die?' That's not his style, it never has been, it never will be. Not with his creations.

About a minute of squinting and walking in, Tony pulls on his headlamp and takes a left through the stacks, waving for Bruce to follow. ]

We're getting close.

[ They'll need to come in under the tower so- as soon as they're in the right sector? Tony's dropping to a crouch to lift a grate off the ground, revealing cushioned cable running along a crawlspace with room enough for two very comfortable people. ] Hope you don't get claustrophobic.

[ Well, at least there's that. Not that he'd ever really been concerned about it, but it's nice to have a little verbal affirmation.

So much for the 'poison the bad guy' idea, though. Shame.

He echoes the gesture, tugging a headlamp on because he's a follower, sue him. His eyebrow does come up, though, at the apparently microscopic space they're meant to settle into. ]

Yeah, fortunately claustrophobia isn't part of my programming.

[ He murmurs, shrugging a little. He gestures vaguely. ]

After you, I guess.

Figured I'd spare you shit like that and still you manage to make yourself an anxious guy. [ He shouldn't be so fucking charmed by that, and yet. It is more charming than it really ought to be.

That and every time Bruce refers to himself as a toaster.

He slips into the crawlspace, cradling the package of silicate sheets to his chest, crawling more or less one armed deeper into the maze of cables and cooling vents. ]

It's a tight fit but I think you'll be fine.

You try being a sentient robot in this the year of our lord twenty sixteen and not winding up a neurotic mess.

[ He returns mildly, no real bite to it, casual commentary.

After Tony seems comfortable, Bruce eases in behind him, headlamp flashing up the length of Tony's back. ]

Guess now isn't a good time to criticize your cable management decisions?

[ He asks, though he sounds more amused than put-upon. There really, really has to have been a better way to do this when he set it all up. ]

I thought you were a conversational toaster? We've moved up in the world, have we?

[ Crackling a laugh as he shuffles forward, taking the first left, twisting around once he's under the proper tower to lay on his back and peer up at the slots he'll need to exchange. ]

I'm going to need you to hold a cable while I get these slotted in. Mostly so I don't electrocute myself.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject