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

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[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

[ 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.

Yeah, yeah.

[ He dismisses irreverently. Fortunately, he's a toaster with good knees because if he were actually as haggard as he thinks he occasionally looks he can't imagine this would be a really fun time.

He pauses at the pathway to the left, allows Tony to twist around and get himself comfortable before he heads in himself. Slides up along the side of Tony's body with the dragging of fabric, and then twists himself until he's flat on his back, pressing into Tony's side from shoulder down to hip.

There sure as hell isn't a lot of room, is there? They're lucky to have a good six inches between their faces, let alone any personal space. ]

If you could do us both a favor and not fry yourself, that'd be ideal. I'm not looking forward to dragging your lifeless corpse back the way we came.

Your concern is touching. [ He shifts, pulling a screwdriver from his pocket to unfasten the grate blocking the access point he needs. Peering up at the underside is always strange, he doesn't know why he expects there to be that same soothing blue that lights up every other aspect of Jarvis- he designed these servers, lights would be inefficient and a waste of space but-

Fanciful sentiment, honestly.

Tony lets the grate slide to the side, reaching in to unplug the power source- gingerly withdrawing the cable to hand it off to Bruce. If the personal space issue was bothering him, it doesn't show on his face. Honestly he doesn't think anything of it. ] Just keep it from touching anything metal. You'll be fine, I'll fry like bacon.

Good thing there's hardly any metal in here.

[ He muses sarcastically. Hardly any except, you know, the server itself and the grating and the floors and the walls and even Tony's god damn chest. He uses the arm not currently pressed against Tony's to reach up and curl around the cable just beneath the head. He handles it with great care and locks his arm into a stable position, cognizant of the fact that he's fortunate it won't get tired like a standard human might. No muscle fatigue, no releasing of lactic acid.

Easy. ]

Every time you sass me back it warms my heart.

[ Just another sign that Bruce has developed into a mostly realized person that is 100% done with everything- which feels appropriate for a sentient robot in the year of our lord 2016.

Once he's sure Bruce has the cable he reaches in, delicately removing the older silicate sheets. His hands are steady, his eyes focused, touch light and deft along the edges as he slides the first one out of the housing and sets it next to the grate. Unwrapping the first means a little fumbling with the package braced on top of the arc reactor, but he manages. ] We'll be hitting three other towers after this one so. Get comfortable.

Happy to help.

[ He responds wryly, though this time he actually means it. It took him a while to warm up to Tony, that first day he'd been convinced the guy had all the wrong intentions, suspected maybe some kind of a god complex, thought there were a hundred different ways he'd grow to dislike or disapprove of Tony.

He couldn't have been more wrong. Now, he takes every laugh like it's an accomplishment and all of those fond pats like a personal sort of victory.

Tower one he spends watching Tony's hands as they work, deft and skilled and sure of themselves, aside from the brief fumbling with packaging. Tries not to feel a little weird about the fact that they crafted his, you know, everything. It's a one-sided sort of intimacy, as if there wasn't already a weird power imbalance in play. ]

They say laying on flat surfaces is great for your spinal alignment.

[ He figures he'll throw that out because this is actually... incredibly uncomfortable, but you know, he'll manage. ]

Wonder what they were smoking when they made that up.

What the kids call 'the good kush'. [ Slide one? In place. He gingerly slides the second sheet out with just as much care before replacing it. ] Which you can, coincidentally, simulate the influence of if you really want to. I think J's got a file from a few sessions where Rhodey and I lit up to study the effects on brain chemistry. Or at least that was the excuse.

[ Mostly it was, is in the odd moment he considers trying it again, a way to slow his brain the fuck down without dipping too deep into the bottle (he's a functional alcoholic and would like to keep the functional part true) or into opiates. It hasn't been so bad lately with Bruce around to help divert or course correct his tendency to obsess over minutiae, or offer nudges in a more productive direction so if he is going to obsess over tiny, stupid shit, it'll at least be worth something. ]

Just go ahead and reach in there to replace the power cable. It'll be easier than me reaching in again. See right- there? [ He points with the plastic end of the screwdriver to a socket just inset on the underside of the tower. ] Plug it in and we're good to move on.

Yeah, no, sounds great. Let's take artificial anxiety and throw being artifically stoned on top of it, I'm sure that'll go well.

[ Because god knows if he were to ever partake he'd probably be one of those paranoid stoners who got convinced by minute five in that they were having a heart attack. His processers would fucking explode or something, he'd bet money on it. If he had money. Which... Tony says he apparently does, but thus far he's had no reason to use it. He only eats for recreation or knowledge, he lives in Stark's lab, and his hobbies are illegally downloading medical texts these days.

He's not exactly an expensive personality.

He shifts, lifts his shoulder up a little to gracefully slide the power cable back into place. It takes a little bit of a push, but when it's firmly seated he lowers his arm again. ]

'Kay.

[ He murmurs, verbal encouragement for Tony to slide the grate back into place. ]

[ It does mean Bruce is leaning up a little into Tony's space, making that six inches more like three and a half but- again. Tony's not all that bothered, eyes on the cable and housing in case he needs to say a quick prayer to- Tesla? Who knows, he's not one for praying. But Bruce lines up and plugs the cable in without issue. For all his earlier chill there's a palpable tension in Tony's shoulders that eases; he hates being electrocuted and really, truly doesn't want to die of it.

That'd kind of suck. ]

Alright. [ He screws the grate back in place, patting Bruce's shoulder to give him warning before he rolls over and goes back to crawling to the next Tower. Rinse and repeat. Grate, cable, slides. All while it gets warmer and warmer in the crawlspace. ]

[ That whole rolling over thing is sort of an interesting affair. Tony has to shift to his side, hover right above Bruce for a second or two, flip onto his elbows so he's just above him and they're just to the left of face to face. Then it's a matter of easing backward down the side of the length of his body, which is... an interesting sight to witness.

With the free space he's given it's a hundred times easier for him to follow suit, turning over and shifting back with only the softest of exhales.

The next grate over and he's crawling up by Tony's side again, hovering above him for a second until he can twist over and flop on his back. Funny how quick it's becoming an easy habit. A hand comes up before he's even asked this second time, slipping the power cable from Tony's fingers like they've been working together for years instead of- what- two months? Give or take? ]

How'd you manage this the first time?

[ He murmurs, glancing over to study Tony's expression instead of his hands this time. ]

[ It does lend a decided hint of intimacy to an otherwise mundane task. When Bruce crawls up him the second time Tony can't help a subtle eyebrow waggle, all in good fun. Innocent enough, right? Right. He doesn't make a thing of it, just resumes the task at hand without overt commentary. They fall in sync as well as he and Rhodey ever had and- that's a nice thought. One he'll keep in mind the next time he needs extra hands. ]

Mmm? Power wasn't hooked up, no risk of accidentally frying myself.

[ His eyes flick to the side, lit from the headlamp like they are it's less of a blackened brown and more a honey'd amber, bright with humor. Work is work and it's familiar work, but company? Makes the work less tedious. Maybe he'd built himself a conversational toaster for company after all.

Not that he'll ever admit it.

Eyes back on the job so he doesn't fuck up the placement, his brow furrows somewhat, eyes narrowing in focus, corer of his mouth curling in so he can gnaw on his lip, tongue flickering out to soothe the mild sting once he's finished. ]

Also I plugged the bases in individually before assembling the towers on top, so. Easier to move around, less crawling involved. It went much faster.

[ It's probably weird, he thinks, to study someone's face the way he is. Probably socially inappropriate to memorize the way Tony's eyes slit a little, or the way his teeth graze his lips, or the way his tongue chases them shortly after. It's a unique gesture, one that makes his lips twitch almost empathetically like he's imaging doing it a little too clearly.

He tilts his head up an inch or two out of consideration, so the headlamp doesn't shine in his face as he watches.

Interesting. Very interesting. What was it Tony said to him once? You're fascinating, I can't help it.

He might get that, now.

He hmms in response to the answer to his question, tilting his head like he's acquiescing to the validity of the method. ]

Fair enough.

I didn't anticipate trying to hack someone that had shit that could maybe in a five percent window of possibility damage Jarvis.

[ Hence, doing this. That five percent? Is still far too likely for Tony's peace of mind. Anything more than one percent is unacceptable, so. Crawling around in ducts full of potentially lethal cables with his new companion cube of a toaster.

One sheet, two and again the moment where he gestures for Bruce to plug the cable back in so he can close it up. ]

I don't think I'll need to do this again for at least another two years after we're finished.

God forbid.

[ He agrees, and this time although it still sounds a little wry there's also a note of seriousness to it. Although he and Jarvis have something of a comfortable and occasionally symbiotic relationship (insofar as they exchange information and keep tabs on Tony), his bigger concern would be how hard Tony would take it if someone managed to compromise him.

Of course, yeah, all the confidential and absolutely harmful data, but he thinks Tony might take an assault on an AI he clearly treasures as more of an affront than the fallout of the information itself.

He twists a little again, almost on his side as he settles up on his left elbow to reach his right arm up. Shoves the power cable in until it's firmly seated again, and then drops down. ]

'Kay.

[ He says again, shorthand now for put the grate back. ]

[ Back the grate goes, screwed in place, and it's another round of rolling over above Bruce- winking down at him this time because he can, because it's harmless- and crawling his way up to the next tower.

As a rule he holds all his creations near and dear- the ones he keeps to himself. Not everyone in the tower understands how complete a personality Jarvis has except Rhodey, Pepper, and Bruce. Even Happy doesn't quite grasp it, and that's fine. No one else understands how much the bots mean to him, why he keeps them around if they're willful and on occasion buggy. Anything he makes to sell? Works well as a point of pride. Anything he makes for the Avengers or the Iron Man Armor? Is perfect because it must be for them to do their job correctly.

Anything for himself? He's poured his soul into, in so much that he believes in souls. It shows in the extra effort he goes through with minding every burr, every squeaky axle, every scuff on the bots, weird line of code in Jarvis, or moment of comfort or reassurance Bruce needs. ]

Tower number three. Halfway done. [ He rolls over onto his back, waving Bruce up. ] Come on up, big guy.

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