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.

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[ Tony winks at him and Bruce stares back with an arched eyebrow and an otherwise inscrutable expression. He'd never in a million years take it seriously, it's just Tony being Tony-- and even if he is flirting, it's just... nothing. It's harmless. Bruce is a toaster, he has no delusions of being anything more than that.

Besides, have you seen this body?

He slides into position because it's rote by now, settles at Tony's side like he belongs there. Lapses into a comfortable and easy silence like he's often wont to do, flowing easily into work that's as mindless as it is satisfying, in a way. ]

[ Bruce has probably, in his time working around Tony, seen him flirt with a literal toaster while waiting for a bagel. It's not that odd save for all the ways it kind of is for anyone but Tony, he's just. Eccentric. Making kissy faces at Jarvis is something else he's probably seen, Tony flirts like breathing with damn near everyone and anything depending on his mood and, injury aside? His mood's been pretty good lately.

The extra company in the lab's settled him a little. Maybe. Probably. Most likely.

Grate, cable, silicate sheets and he frowns at the first one he pulls out, squinting at a hairline fracture along one edge. Sure they're replacing them but- ]

Shit. Ping J if you can, have him do a quick server assessment?

[ He's definitely seen Tony flirt with the coffee maker like it's the love of his actual life, which is amusing every single time it happens. Not quite as amusing as Jarvis' occasional deadpan toward the come-ons, but it's up there pretty high.

He spots the hairline fracture a second after Tony does, and nods his head. Rolls his eyes up to absently stare at the grating above them while he reaches out through his uplink. ]

He's running a diagnostic on it, sir.

[ Bruce murmurs in answer when he realizes Tony can't hear the what he's getting directly into his processor. The sir is quite clearly a slip of the tongue, it's verbatim from Jarvis and out his mouth before he can censor it.

He imagines that's what people think telepathy is like, not a sound so much as a concrete alien thought spoken directly into your consciousness. It would probably be weird if it didn't feel so natural and intuitive. ]

Can we get a timeframe on how long that'll take? Might as well mark which ones need adjustment while we're down here.

[ A beat, one that's a bit drawn out before Tony clears his throat, smothering amusement and mild discomfit both. ]

Let's also not have you call me that ever again too, ok? It's- weird.

[ It doesn't suit Bruce's voice, his temperament. Even if Jarvis' butler schtick is something he leans into wholeheartedly there's not a subservient circuit in him. Something like 'sir' coming out of Bruce leans into the realm of maybe kink and-

No?

Yes.

Maybe?

Oh god what are the ethics on this shit? ]

Ten minutes.

[ It's out his mouth the second it's in his head, which is... interesting, but more importantly, he's huffing out a breathy chuckle at Tony's obvious discomfort. ]

Trust me, it was weirder for me than it was for you.

[ Probably. Maybe not, actually, because he's not thinking kink. Either way, it's not really his style and, frankly, he hasn't put any thought into whether he'd be, you know, dominant or submissive, or if-

Nope, just stopping that right there before he travels down a rabbit hole in close quarters. Probably something to contemplate on later.

Introspect. ]

I'm willing to bet.

[ They haven't dropped to 'hey asshole' 'yeah moron' levels of comfort yet but maybe, one day, they'll get there. Or stick with toaster-stroodle and 'why, Tony, please'. That works for them, no reason to get wild when the system isn't broken. He is absolutely ignoring any odd thoughts suddenly prompted by a little radio android telepathy.

Might as well finish the job they're here for- so. He replaces the sheet with the same care as he's been handling the rest, replacing the next one- no crack. So that's not a terrible sign, really. ]

...what's it like, being able to communicate with him like that?

[ Why, Tony, Please was probably the most apt possible nickname Bruce could come up with to adequately express his feelings towards Tony 99% of the time. Constant fond exasperation and surprise all intermingled together behind a layer of I'm So Done With This Shit.

At the question he turns his head, angling his jaw up a little to shine the headlamp just above Tony's forehead instead of into his eyeballs like some kind of savage.

He hmms thoughtfully. ]

I was just thinking- it's probably like how people think telepathy is, you know? Like... having someone in your head, just... beaming thoughts directly into you. [ A beat, and he shrugs a shoulder. ] It's like hearing, just... not out loud.

[ Which has the fortunate (unfortunate) side effect of showing off the jawline Tony had carefully crafted specifically to not be distracting and here it is. Existing. And. Being distracting. Fuck his brain this is not what he needs. Later he'll go out, have a few drinks, find a good time, get this out of his system.

Yeah.

That's an excellent plan he'll absolutely fail to follow through on. ]

Now and then I think about maybe- finding a way to plug in. Make communication instantaneous. And then he reminds me that my brain, while a marvel of biology and genius, would probably fry if I tried it due to the sheer speed of calculation and I'd end up a very pretty vegetable.

[ Bruce eyes him skeptically at the notion, a little divot in his brow, a clear knit of concern. Completely, wholly oblivious to the internal conflict Stark is feeling because he genuinely can't imagine himself as the object of anyone's affection or attraction. ]

Yeah, no, that's a terrible idea.

[ He agrees immediately, shifting like he wants to cross his arms and then realizing before he manages that it'd put an elbow right in Tony's sternum, which is... no. So instead he winds up just brushing their arms together and settling back down again. ]

I'm sure you'd revolutionize all the other celery stalks in the personal care home, but- no. Don't use yourself as a guinea pig to test neural implantation.

[ First the jaw, then the brow, did he really sculpt a face this striking subconsciously? Bruce was supposed to be safe. Not being able to predict how he'd emote probably helped, it's the motion he puts in the chassis that has Tony's attention-

Shit. This could be a problem.

It won't be if he ignores it. He'll just ignore it. It'll pass. ]

I wouldn't jump straight to human testing- but none of the sims I've worked out have turned up promising. Nine times out of ten? Melted brain jelly. It's just- if Hydra and Zola were able to put him on tape reels, why can't I figure out how to do something better?

Be...cause you're not a horrific evil genocidal insane nazi?

[ He speculates incredulously, and... gets abruptly tired of having to tilt his head the way he does, so he snakes a hand up past their bodies to wrap around his headlamp and tug it off. He'll put it back on whenever they get back to work, but he wants to be able to look Tony straight in the face instead of cocking it to one side like a bird or some kind of weird... lizard-person. ]

So it's ethics holding me back? Well shit.

[ if that's the only issue he can't really fix that, can he? Can't make a workaround or learn a new trick to make the thing happen because there was probably some kind of human experimentation involved in making Robo Zola possible and-

Yeah. That, that's probably exactly what they did. Maybe if he digs through the hydra data dump? ]

Quick note: remind me to dig through the hydra/shield data dump when we get out of here.

Yeah, tragedy.

[ He mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes up to the grating again.

That little divot doesn't disappear, though, at the note request. In fact, it seems to dig a little bit deeper into his forehead, and he swivels his head back again to pin Tony with a concerned look. Something head-on, straight in the eyes. Stern. ]

Look, I'm probably talking to myself here, but- don't go messing around with something like that without being careful, okay? I'm serious. [ Because, yes, okay, just reading the hydra files on Zola's upload process is probably fine, but-] If this is gonna be like taking that first hit of meth or something, there's a reason they say not even once. It's a slippery slope, so just... Don't get over-invested.

...As a former addict and current functioning alcoholic- you really don't need to come at me with that angle.

[ He gets it. He's got strict limitations on what he will and will not attempt put down by Rhodey and Pepper, maintained by Jarvis. Dowloading himself into a computer is on the list of Do Not Attempt Ever.

For- more or less this very reason.

He's not offended, not really. It's something he doesn't talk about- it wasn't meth but it'd been bad enough for him to push back hard against even the most basic painkillers when he absolutely can manage without them. And sometimes even when he can't. ]

They managed it, so it's possible. The odds of us being able to use it for people with deteriorateing mental states or something is possible. And, yeah, my bullshit need for a few more workable decades.

[ Never enough time. He will never, ever have enough time and it sits like a coal in his gut most every hour of every day. ]

[ There's an instant shift in his facial features, a contrite sort of apology that tugs at his brows and his lips. He's been suitably chastised, it seems, for the thoughtless metaphor. Considers apologizing for it, but something tells him it might actually force his foot a little further into his mouth and down his throat.

He stifles it, but there's no denying that he pulls back a little. Reels in his concern and slips his expression back into something carefully neutral.

A sudden voice in his head has him flicking his eyes up to the grating again, and rather than pursuing the conversation he shifts gears. ]

The server's optimal, no sign of degradation. It's clear.

[ He waves it off as best he can, letting his gaze roll back to the grate above and his sour frustration that someone out there figured out a thing before he did because they were terrible fucking human beings and not because they were brilliant seep for approximately five seconds before he shakes it off.

Lingering on that thought isn't going to get the job done or get him closer to an answer.

Good news is: He's no longer distracted so much by Bruce's appearance. Hurrah! ]

Right. Next tower?

[ Yay. What an achievement.

Still feeling aptly chastized and now perhaps a little awkward, he nods. Takes the change in conversation and scenery (however small) with enthusiasm, and opts to be the first one out this time. He shifts, rolls, hovers over Tony for a second and backs his way out the way they'd come.

Waits patiently a few feet back from the intersection, since he doesn't have the faintest damn clue where their next stop is. ]

[ Tony blinks up at Bruce, brow quirked, one hand lifting up to pat his ribs in what's as close to a nonverbal 'we're cool' as he's likely to get before he shuffles upward in search of...fuck if Tony knows, he doesn't know where the next tower is. He rolls over himself, propped up on his elbows, peering forward into the dark before wryly drawling out. ]

A little lost, Toaster-stroodle?

[ He huffs a laugh, he can't help it. None of the others got him, not Brucie-Bear or B-Money or B-Man, but for whatever reason, toaster-stroodle? That's the one that breaks him. ]

Adorable.

[ He comments flatly, eyebrows hitched up and completely exasperated.

Shut up and lead the way, Tony, damn. ]

[ And if he can still get that laugh? It means they actually are okay. That he doesn't need to keep worrying. It's reason enough for Tony to relax those last few inches and shuffle forward, squishing himself up against Bruce's side in an effort to climb around and past him to the next tower. There is all kinds of interesting friction going on that he is just- going to ignore. ]

You know you like it.

[ Interesting is definitely one word for it. Laying side by side is one thing, shifting done one another's space, sure, but Tony slides right up against him, and Bruce does his best to flatten himself against the wall, to angle his back against it and make room so Tony's only got to deal with his front.

Yeah, no heading out first was definitely a mistake. He'll be sure to write a formal apology letter, or just... actually not say anything about it at all, to be honest.

Except it's followed with a you know you like it, and he can only let out another, altogether different sounding huff.

This whole experience has been a damn exercise in so many different ways.]

You wish.

[ Is all he can think to mutter, and then he's trailing along begrudgingly after. ]

I wish for many things.

[ How he can keep something so offhand and still leave it some shade of coy, eyelashes fluttering over his shoulder as he peers up at Bruce for the half second they're close enough to maybe share a breath before he crawls right along to the last tower. Down a bit and turning left once before, as with the last three, he rolls over to start working on the grating. ]

Mostly for danish, right now, thanks for that.

[ Frankly, it leaves him sort of speechless. Sort of frozen for a second even after Tony crawls on, stuck there with lips parted, trying to wrap his head around it.

Run system diagnostic. Procressor failure?
Nope, running fine.
What the hell.

It takes him a little longer than usual to catch up, he's got to shake it off first before he can seem to get himself in motion again. And then he's settling down carefully at Tony's side once more, staring up at the grating. ]

Yeah, sorry, my expertise ends at the bagel. You're on your own.

[ That right there was part of The Stark Experience. Not something Bruce really sees because- he gets Tony. Not the Lothario. Not the showman. But that was a taste of both and neither and maybe it was a little weird, flirting with the toaster?

Nah, he does it all the time.

Tony starts working at the grate, already working it free by the time Bruce catches up to settle. ]

A toaster that can only handle bagels? I feel like you should be ashamed of yourself.

[ Maybe it says something kind about his composure that despite it all, he's still easily and fluidly slipping into the routine of glorified cable holder.

He does it, however, with a little incredulous snort and a quirk of his lips. ]

Take it up with the mirror, pal, you made me. Maybe you should've integrated a pastry function.

[ He shoots right back in a quick and airy dismissal, because despite weird looks or flirting or awkward conversations or sticking his foot in his mouth, this? Is easy. This he can do. He makes bagels and he builds sassy rapport. ]

Thought you were supposed to be some kind of genius, but your magic talking toaster can't even do bear claws.

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