Connor, RK800 #313 248 317-51. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cyberlife) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
meadowlarklogs2018-11-30 02:33 pm
cyberlife) wrote in meadowlarklogs2018-11-30 02:33 pm
Entry tags:
WE COMMUNICATE IN WAVEFORMS JUST LIKE THESE—
WHO: connor cyberlife and you.
WHERE: ridin' 'round town in a drop-top benz, hittin' switches in my black '64.
WHEN: august 15th and on.
WHAT: closed prompts for irl december.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: tbd.
cyberlife and you.WHERE: ridin' 'round town in a drop-top benz, hittin' switches in my black '64.
WHEN: august 15th and on.
WHAT: closed prompts for irl december.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: tbd.
CLOSED TO @RETRAVELS. (SPACE DATE, LATE AUGUST.)
head on a swivel, looking to and from the large porthole they’re strapped in next to and fitz respectively, the android worries at his brand new navy tie with clip.)
These seats are a couple of the best. That’s what my employers told me.
(”you’re one of the hardest workers we’ve hired in the last decade,” they told him before he left for the space shuttle with fitz that evening. a boost in confidence he desperately needed, not that he had any idea. he’s always worked quickly and efficiently and he’s never shirked duties. “take some time to relax after the arm, resnik, and have a good trip.”
so there they are, treated to the premium service connor paid so much less for — worth it, all things considered.)
Do you think Earth will still be as blue as it was in our pictures? (he just can’t seem to shut up, though, even if he doubts fitz will mind.) I expect it’ll be breathtaking nonetheless, but I can’t help my concern for this world’s environment.
no subject
all that to say: he's dead chuffed to be here. one giant leap for a wannabe spaceman and all. ]
Well done. [ a hand light on connor's shoulder again, there and gone, as fitz leans forward, peering out the window closest to his friend. for once, his smile reaches his eyes, crinkling at the corners. ]
No doubt there'll be changes. [ buzzing with energy, pleased to indulge the commentary and volley it back, and waving his hands as he works through the question. ] That's the nature of the beast. [ apocalyptic futures... a thoughtful tilt of his head. ] Might be more blue, though.
[ optimism!! rising sea levels. sunken cities. a planet plagued by seismic and multiversal anomalies. could make for a pretty picture, eh? unless it's filled with radioactive monster sludge. anyway. ]
Can't wait for the stars myself. Always had this poster on my wall, far-flung constellations, and now we're just — about to be in the midst of it, aren't we?
no subject
They call it the "Blue Marble", like the photo taken in 1972. (a shallow lean in to express his enthusiasm, even if he sounds like he's quoting from a textbook... in a way he is, having downloaded compressed information packages given to him by the engineers who built him.) I guess that'll be more apt a title now, if what you say is true. Wouldn't the members of the Apollo 17 be pleased?
(to think people are living on the moon, terraforming it and the other colonies. humanity spreading to the sky.
connor hears flight information rattled off over the public announcement system, a calm, male voice instructing them what to do in the case of an emergency and all of the necessary jargon a flight attendant back in michigan might review. amazing how little has changed where people are concerned, when the face of the world is so alien now — they'll innately stay the same, while getting smarter and smarter every decade.)
What's your favourite constellation? Do you have one? Maybe we'll rocket right through it; you never know. (he continues, even as his fingers seek his seatbelt so he can blindly hook it together.
it wouldn't do to float away, would it?)
Has anyone in your iteration of Earth travelled farther than the moon?
no subject
You can see Lyra from Scotland in the summer. [ he sketches the shape int he air with a finger and adopts a reverential tone. ] Named for Orpheus and his lyre. [ he assumes Connor knows the rest of the myth, at once heroic and tragic. ] Vega's in it, the fifth-brightest star in the entire night sky. Not to mention the Ring Nebula. Other clusters, too. [ a flash of teeth. ] Pretty brilliant.
[ fitz buckles in and tugs at his button-up soon after, smoothing any wrinkles. it takes a great deal of fussing to fix. ]
Not most everyday folks, even in the space programme. [ a tilt of his head to one side, coupled with his voice lowering, conspiratorial. ] But we've got the Asgardians like Loki and Thor back home, proper aliens from far-flung planets, among others. [ his smile shifts, the edges sanded off. smaller, softer (sadder, maybe). ] I've been to one planet, light years from earth. Maveth. [ which the autotranslate on their implants or Connor's own prior knowledge may inform him means death in hebrew. not exactly a holiday. ] Went via portal, though, not like this — so, still my first go on the travel part.
[ and there it is, "prepare for take-off" tinny through the overhead speakers, the engine rumbling as the walls vibrate. fitz tries to compare the sounds and sensations to prior trips on SHIELD aircrafts. what an honour to would be, to design something like this. ]
What about you, future man?
[ he knows the year from markus, so he can only assume they were further ahead. a lot can change in a decade or two, y'know, like the mass marketisation of androids. ]
no subject
(fitz's story is, in a way, similar to orpheus' — isn't it? his choice reminds connor that he's in love with a woman far, far away. jemma simmons, the biochemist, the engineer's muse and someone he'd very much like to meet. bittersweet, that sort of revelation. he simply nods at it while fitz smiles and offers him one of his own, refusing to bring down the mood.
there's a time and a place.
connor glances out the window at the announcement, gripping the arms of his seat with a fond focus on what his friend's saying, only looking back when the smoke's cleared and they've made it into the air. a bit of tension in his jaw, unaccustomed to heights he finds unappealing and quite intimidating at the best of times, his eyes narrow. fractionally, enough to show his interest.)
So not humans, per se, but aliens — or gods, if you believe in that sort of thing. It's fascinating, that on the imperceptible edges of our universe, entire colonies could be forming under our noses. Space is so vast and yet people have so many doubts in what could potentially be out there, but I understand their reservations. It must be difficult to accept something you can't wrap your head around.
You know, in 2038... androids have been sent to Io, one of Jupiter's moons. There have been Mars expeditions as well, but this is the farthest America will have gotten. They'll work there until they're destroyed by the satellite's inhospitable conditions. Humans, however, can enjoy space tourism much like we are now. Three hour trips around the moon, for an exorbitant price.
(not the fairest deal, judging by his tone.)
...
Wait, Fitz— you went through a portal to another planet?
no subject
Io, though. [ a low whistle. he listens closely, taking notes. charting divergences between worlds and advances in his preferred field (spacetime) is one of the few joys of being here. ] That's fantastic. Right on track. Pity about the marketisation.
[ as per fucking usual, here in the capitalist hellscape of the future.
the connection connor made earlier, however, between orpheus' story and his own, is one fitz has made himself. he and jemma are cursed like mythic tragedy, star-crossed, struck down by the whims of fate or his own flaws, wrenching them apart. just how far would he go for her? to the end of time, the ends of the earth, the darkest and coldest depths of the sea, the furthest reaches of the stars, the underworld and back again. he said as much to markus, who thought it romantic.
only for fitz, it's frighteningly literal. all things he's done, would do again and again, if it meant one more minute — ]
Well, yeah. I suppose I did. [ CASUAL... ] It sort of — opened and took Jemma, so I went after her. [ said as if it's that straightforward, as if he didn't dive through a hole in the universe on a hunch. then, simply. ] Wasn't much of a holiday.
[ a joke, in as much as it can be one, when he and connor are on an actual bloody space holiday. ]
no subject
gods aren't real. connor met his maker — a very smart, very bored man with too much money and not enough time to spend it all, sewing discord to see what spawns from the aftermath. connor's seen what's on the other side, dying only to experience a nothingness that'd frighten upright humans who stand so tall their whole lives expecting a heaven of god's creation to be waiting for them.
there are explanations for everything. a myth created by an ancient civilization that didn't understand scientific phenomena is not one of them.)
The rich still get richer; the poor poorer. It's not the space cruises that appeal to me but the leaps humanity's been making into the future. (that's why he's here speaking to fitz, after all. they made him.) You understand this, being as intelligent as you are. In that sense, I imagine you'd get along with the man who created me. You want to see advances, even if they happen to be dangerous.
Portals to other worlds among them...
(connor trails off, trying to imagine it. it's happened to them, so it should be easy, but his mind's preoccupied with fitz's nonchalance. to go that far for someone you love... when he woke up, realized that the orders he'd been following were wrong, that's one of the first things he aspired to be. a loyal partner, a dedicated friend, a better person.
it makes his chest ache.)
I imagine you didn't think twice about the decision. (connor says with a knowing smile, leaning onto the arm of his seat. he's momentarily forgotten that they're hurtling up into the mesosphere.) That's awfully reckless of you, Fitz. I'd say you two are lucky to have one another, but I don't know if the term applies to the hard work you seem to put into one another.
(he's envious in the best way, another goal blipping into existence on his radar.)
I hope everything went well... it must've been frightening.
no subject
The comparison to the man who made Connor means that he's already been, well, sussed in one respect. Connor is kind to him, but clever, too. Fitz is reminded of their conversation on the network. The lad sees more than Fitz realises, blinded as he is by his fondness.
He's in danger of becoming lost in his head, then, when Connor switches the topic back to Jemma. Ah, another twist inside. He ducks his head, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles there again. A slight twitch of his mouth at being called reckless. Very much so. ]
We're star-crossed. [ As simple as his love for her, despite how he suffuses the statement with longing (prove him wrong, cosmos, please). They're lucky to have known one another and been known so completely and honestly in return. Unluckier still to be separated, after experiencing that knowing. ]
I was a little younger then. Maybe it was one of the first times I was properly brave, too, 'cause it was terrifying. [ a little smile, proud of himself and Jemma. ] And scarier for her, all alone, in a strange place — a haunted planet of unending night, but we made it. [ And there are always worse things waiting, he thinks. A look askance, out the window, sky darkening all the while. ] The cosmos is beyond our control, Connor. [ Do they have the power to affect change at the micro-level? Absolutely, he pulled Jemma back through a hole in spacetime, for god's sake. However, that isn't what he means. There are bigger forces at work: Chance, fate, the inevitable progression of time. ] All we can do is seize what's in front of us — for however long it's within reach.
[ Part personal opinion and part advice, metered out so that others don't make the mistake of having someone magnificent beside them the whole damn time and only telling them in the final hour. ]
Thank you again, for the idea to do this — [ tipping his back and to the side into the headrest, a better angle to regard Connor. ] — and for wanting to go with me. Might be our only chance, y'know.
[ in a comparatively quiet month and with the both of them still here. Connor has said and shown his gratefulness to Fitz on more than one occasion; he wants to do the same, albeit in his own bittersweet way, ever two-toned — melancholic, even when happy. ]
no subject
but there's one thing that separates them completely. that something is life experience.
connor's been through the ringer for only five months and change. fitz has had three decades of struggles, personal conquests that've both succeeded and failed, created and destroyed amazing, amazing things. all the rather naive android can assume is that he has an ally in this brave — or brash — man of one thousand faces. listen to and learn from his stories, analyze the way fitz considers things, and try not to pity him for the obvious tragedies he's survived through.)
Of course, (he begins, blinking his surprise,) we're friends.
(that's what's in front of him right now, drifting out here in the middle of the cosmos. a friend, leo fitz.
connor smiles suddenly, as though coming to some impressive conclusion, and continues.) I think we're more resilient than you're giving us credit for. I make my own chances, such as they are, so if you ever want to go on another excursion in the future — I'd be happy to. I've learned recently that striving doggedly to accomplish a mission can blind you to so many other opportunities. Experiencing more of this new-old world will be useful in the end.
I know it.
(familiarizing themselves with what new amsterdam — and the rest of that water-logged little sphere growing more and more distant as they speak — has to offer will be key. knowing the ins and outs of this life, what people want to add to their already highly advanced world, what they, as experiments, are needed for... it all has to be relevant. connor believes it to be and he'll prove it in time.)
So relax. (flips up the in-flight snack menu, eyebrows quirking.) Get a drink or something.