Futuristic Beyond [Private; Fyuri/Stormblessed]

[Fable]

elusivethought
(It begins. X3 BTW electric privacy glass is so cool.)

Today was different. There had always been a routine that was followed every single day. Some days there were some minor changes, but generally it was always the same. Her handler hadn't explained much about this new change in her schedule, well, actually she hadn't explained anything about what they were doing. This honestly wasn't an uncommon theme in this facility. Pandora knew what she was and the purpose of everything they did in regards to her; it was all an experiment. Everything was always a test.

Based on that fact, she believed this too was a test of some kind. Her handler - a 30 year-old woman with brown hair, glasses, and standard lab coat - led her down a corridor she'd never been to before. They passed by a few doors, all which were simply numbered which gave no indication of their purpose, until they reached a door labeled as 886. The woman pulled on her ID card which was pinned to her lab coat with a retractable cord, then waved it in front of a slightly raised section next to the door handle. There was a small beep and the door opened automatically.

Pandora was ushered into a empty white room with glossy white walls, but one of them was different. One of the walls was actually frosted glass. Pandora's blue eyes glanced back at her handler with a questioning gaze, but the woman simply instructed her to approach the wall. She looked back at the floor to ceiling glass wall and cautiously moved closer. She could make out a shadowy figure on the other side, but that was all.

Then the frosted glass became clear in an instant, revealing another person on the other side. Even though she knew there was a figure of a person before they were revealed, she still took a small reflexive step back since she hadn't been prepared for the glass to become transparent so suddenly. She looked at this unfamiliar person curiously though however, stepping so close to the glass that she could touch it if she wanted to.

She looked them over from bottom to top. They were dressed like her in a similar fashion - a simple white sleeveless shirt and white pants - but there were some very obvious differences as well.

 

[elusivethought]

(( Fable yo that glass is amazing! Here we goooo!))

2451-02-14, 09:00:12.

He archived exactly when Shelley opened the door, deactivating the complicated lock system in the familiar rhythmic pattern: three rapidfire beeps before a long, high-pitched tone a thirteenth above. After a brief wait and a click, the door swung open.

A tall, dark-haired man bustled in, identifiably cheerful in his gait. He scribbled marks on a tablet with a noticeable flourish. "Good morning, Prometheus!"

"Good morning, Shelley." It was always good morning, or just morning. That response was easy. The trickier part was understanding why humans said it even when it wasn't a good morning, and when Prometheus had first asked, his handler had requested his inquisitive levels dialed down. That request had been denied with a laugh.

Shelley was his sixth handler. Sixth time's the charm, he had said. But Prometheus recalled only three of them, including Shelley. He suspected the others had been overwritten. He didn't ask why.

"Do you know what day it is, Mister P?" Shelley asked in his eager, mildly Liverpudlian accent.

Prometheus knew. "Tuesday, February the fourteenth, two-thousand four-hundred fifty-one CE." But his emotional facial recognition of Shelley's expression suggested he missed something. Quickly he searched the log for holidays and --

"Valentine's Day," they answered simultaneously; albeit Shelley's with italics and an exclamation mark.

Shelley beamed; stock photos of proud fathers and giddy pet owners flashed in a visual application running in the background. His handler nodded. "Right. Come on, then."

After a few routine, preliminary tests -- "all systems good!" -- Prometheus was led down a forbidden hallway, hesitating behind Shelley's long lab coat.

"No maths today?" Prometheus asked.

Shelley shook his head with a cheeky smile. "No maths."

They were met in a white-walled chamber by a dark-skinned man in an expensive Armani suit. Identification processes listed him as Michael J. Latimer, chief operations officer of Coeus, a privately owned and operated Artificial Intelligence company. Two other white-coat officials stood sentinel at a plain door, shifting nervously under Latimer's gaze.

"Lead Handler Shelley, you're far too friendly with our project," Latimer sneered, glancing at a flashing luxury watch. "You're late."

Shelley blushed. "Well, sir, I --"

Soon another man stepped in, greying hair tuffed around a tanned complexion and familiar weathered face. Even though his clothes were disheveled and his eyes were puffy and red, he gave a white-toothed smile at Prometheus, who returned it.

"Ah, Doctor Sidana," said Latimer coolly. "I see you were able to catch that 10:30 after all. Your loss is, of course, regrettable."

Dr. Sidana gave a professional nod and answered around a trembling mouth. "Aryan would have wanted me here. He was very passionate about our project." He smoothed his palms at his wrinkled collared shirt and spread his hands. "Shall we?"

Prometheus wasn't told anything as he was guided into another white-washed room. An opaque glass walled the middle, and a sleek observation glass squared the perimeter in a wide horizontal chunk. Shelley followed him inside, but stopped near the door. Prometheus paused with him, obedient and cautious.

"No, no," said Shelley, "go on." He nodded to the glass. Prometheus interpreted it as a clearance to approach, but there was nothing to view. His focus wandered, and the rumbling audio "curiosity is his vice," played back from input archived years ago. Beyond the observational glass his lenses focused upon a black woman towering in heels, clutching an expensive handbag and pursing her lips. Identification recognized her as Laura K. Martin, heir and chief financial officer to Martin Technologies Corporation, a long-time investor in Project Prometheus. A pimply intern brought her a steaming coffee mug: I heart AI.

His focus reshifted; he saw his own reflection now, and his features listed out clinically: olive skin, dirty-blonde curls, light brown eyes. Prominent chin, strong jaw, long nose. Tall stature, broad shoulders, muscled arms, all wrapped in antiseptic-white cotton. He knew he looked human. He knew he wasn't.

Prometheus glanced warily at Shelley, but his handler was busy scribbling notes with his stylus. An internal search automatically initiated a background music application that played Pavarotti's robust rendition of Verdi's "La donna è mobile" on outer mute. An easy input recognition: Shelley had been whistling it down the corridor.

"Mister P," said Shelley, "come on. Just look out the glass."

Although Prometheus wasn't required to, he did so anyway. He blinked, confused at the sight, and took a step forward, input scrambling. The glass wasn't opaque at all; it was clear, revealing a beautiful woman with brilliant blue eyes. His functions whirred, but a database search yielded no results on her identity. Prometheus couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Who is she?" he asked, sucking up input like a sponge.

"An android," Shelley said around a grin.

"Like me?"

"Like you."

Shuffling closer to the glass, Prometheus tapped at it with a fingernail, inspired by shaky cam videos of children at the zoo.

"She has beautiful eyes," he commented; general observations were usually encouraged in test and experimental situations.

Shelley snorted behind him. "Thought you'd like that, mate. You like blue, don't you?"

"I do like blue." He traced her shape on the glass with a fingertip, drawing an invisible hourglass. Suddenly it occurred to him he hadn't greeted her. An error in etiquette, Shelley called it. He really should rectify it.

"Good morning," Prometheus said in a dutiful tenor. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Oh, no, mate," Shelley sighed behind him, tapping the stylus on his tablet, then his ear. "She can't hear you."

Prometheus wasn't deterred. "Oh." He took a step back and began signing in smooth and precise ASL: Good morning. Happy Valentine's Day.

Shelley laughed, sending an uncertain Prometheus a shrug, but he evidently wasn't clueless. Lacking a file for her, Prometheus began asking questions.

"What's her name?"

"Pandora. Fitting, eh?"

Prometheus frowned. According to records on Greek mythology, Pandora was the first woman, formed from clay to punish man for Prometheus' choices. Fitting. So what had he done? Had he done something wrong?

"Pandora." Prometheus tried the name out loud and archived the data to his most protected hard drive as Pandora Blue, last saved 2451-02-14, 09:34:42. Valentine's Day.

 

[Fable]

elusivethought
('New phone, who dis?" Lol - Pandora 2017 (jkjk) If you want, we can time skip to the next time they meet after this, or a few more meetings in.)

Pandora silently registered the male on the other side of the glass, filing away all the physical observations. She curiously watched as he spoke, she'd been trying to learn how to read lips recently, so far she wasn't that great at it. But if she had to take a guess at what was being said, it would obviously be questions about her person. There were some words she easily made out; android, eyes, and me. She smiled at him in a friendly manner, just as interested in his person as he probably was in her.

She turned to look at her handler at the door, "Ms. Taylor, query."

"Pandora, you don't need to format your speech like that. Remember we had that discussion about speaking more... casually?"

"Oh, right. Question then, what's his name?"

"Prometheus."

Pandora's body quivered for a moment as she nearly laughed at the irony of their names. However, she managed to calm down before she returned to face Prometheus. Her head tilting slightly to one side causing her long white hair to shift slightly. She wasn't quite sure what he was doing when he traced his finger across the glass, it wasn't a word of any kind, but rather a shape. Whatever he had done had amused her handler who choked down a laugh, trying to remain as professional as possible since there were many VIPs observing this crucial interaction.

Her eyes focused on his lips as he spoke a very common greeting, followed by words she was unable to decipher. It seemed his handler had said something, so he instead tried to communicate with his hands. Pandora pursed her lips slightly, wondering what he was trying to tell her. She simply shook her head to indicate she wasn't sure what he was trying to say.

"We can't talk to each other?" she asked, not to Prometheus, but to her handler.

"At this stage, no."

"Why not?"

Ms. Taylor sighed, "Safety, security, less influence, various reasons."

When Pandora saw Prometheus say her name, she beamed at him happily and pointed to herself, indicating she knew that he had said her name. She then said his name in return and touched the glass to point at him to show she knew his name as well. She then used the same finger to point to her mouth and said," Good morning." She didn't know if he would understand, but she felt that trying was worth it. She wondered how he would react to a silly little game. She used her index finger to touch the glass and then used her other hand to point at his own, then pointed at her finder trying to say for him to copy. However, she was interrupted by her handler clearing her throat and calling out Pandora's name.

"Say your farewell, we need to get back to the schedule."

"Will I get to see him again?"

"Maybe, but they wanted this first meeting to be short. There are going to be questions about your thoughts on this meeting next."

Pandora pulled her hand away from the glass, her expression a bit dejected at not being able to stay. She gave a small goodbye wave as well as speaking the words before turning to exit her side of the separated room. Pandora glanced back once before the door closed, trying to get a last curious peek at Prometheus. She was then brought to a room she was very familiar with. It was the room where they sat her down with a robopsychologist where she would be asked questions about her thoughts. She obediently sat down on the modern black leather couch with perfect posture. The doctor was already at their large metal and glass desk. He gave her handler an unhappy glance with a mention of needing to speak with her later.

"You must feel excited to meet another android," Dr. Fanning began, ready to take notes on Pandora's' responses.

"I thought I was the only one like myself. Are we the same age? How long has he been here? Why didn't anyone tell me about him?"

"Pandora, one question at a time, please. Now, I will answer one of those questions. He is older than you. His inception date is before yours. So, you could say he is more experienced than you due to this. What did you learn about him from this interaction?"

"He is taller than me, has very different physical characteristics, his stance was non-threatening, demeanor seemed friendly, possibly either stubborn or determined personality based on attempts to communicate."

"Any feelings? Emotions?"

Pandora sat there, replaying the meeting over in her mind.

"Curious. Happy. Disappointed."

"Why were you disappointed, Pandora?"

"I was only able to see him for a short time and was not allowed to speak to him directly. I wanted to learn more."

"More meetings have been arranged. You understand that we have to introduce new things slowly to you, so that we can observe and try to understand how your AI brain is influenced by information. A first meeting between you two is a very important milestone. To humans, first impressions can determine how we perceive another person."

The session continued, but the focus was changed from her meeting with Prometheus to other matters. After that, her schedule returned to what it normally was, though Pandora's handler remarked how Pandora seemed distracted in her tasks since the meeting.

 

[elusivethought]

(( Fable time-hoppin' like it's going out of style.))

"Prometheus, focus please."

He force quit visual playback, reverting his gaze to a concrete grey ceiling. "Yes. I'm sorry. Permission to try again?" His neck twisted to gaze at Dr. Fanning -- a proud man with a constantly furrowed brow.

Dr. Fanning frowned, running a hand through his dark black hair. "Physical attributes, please."

He ticked them off. "Slender build, blue eyes, soft white hair --"

"How do you know it's soft?" Dr. Fanning interrupted, scrawling away.

Prometheus paused. "I don't. I made an inference." An alluring slow-motion playback rolled, showing her hair cascading over trim shoulders. Long. Soft. Luminous in the blue-white LEDs. Long ago he'd been given a feather, and had fondled the vanes slowly, indulgently. Touch sensory, successful. It had felt lovely. Pandora's hair was like that sensation, he guessed.

Dr. Fanning cleared his throat. "After Pandora exited, you sat before the glass and waited. Why?"

"To see if she'd return." Their attempts at communication had been brief and unsuccessful. But the vivid picture of Pandora giving him a sad farewell had burned brightly, internal display contrast and brightness scrolled up to the max. He'd wanted to remain.

Dr. Fanning sighed, scrubbing his eyelids with his fingers. "How do you think she felt during your interaction?"

He hesitated. It was a tough question, interpreting others' emotions. His eyelids blinked rapidly, and it took longer than usual for him to process an answer as he reviewed and interpreted the input. "Amiable. Excited. Confused. Lonely."

"That last one," Dr. Fanning said, drumming his fingers on the desk. "Is that your emotion or Pandora's?"

Prometheus's search for an answer yielded no results. "I don't know," he said.

+++​

On their second meeting they still weren't allowed audio communication. An unintentional slip from Shelley prompted Prometheus to sneak in a Sharpie, and once inside the room he'd rushed to the window, hastily scribbling in binary. The session had ended prematurely, with barked orders as the screen reverted to its unyielding white, with officials rushing in to restrain him.

He was immediately punished, and denied the proper use of his hands in a painful, dark process. Some of them laughed when he said it was agonizing. He got his hands back when his code was translated to an unfinished sonnet: Shakespeare's Sonnet Eighteen. Prometheus wondered what they had feared he'd written.

Two more weeks had passed before they were given another opportunity to meet. Prometheus' fault for the wait. But it was a new day, with new privacy glass. Metal grates had been installed around the observing glass, already sixty centimeters thick. But he hadn't done anything rash this time: only pressed his hand and forehead against the pane between him and Pandora, afraid to attempt to communicate. Instead he stared at her. Silent. Docile. Terrified. He wondered if she was angry at him. That day, he refused to leave. Dr. Fanning was forced to conduct his subsequent interview in the observation room. Only Shelley could guide Prometheus back into his cabin.

Another week ticked by. And another. And another. Though he was apparently progressing, Prometheus cared for none of their praise. Indeed, after each day's traditional daybreak greeting, he asked about Pandora.

"Good morning, Shelley. How is Pandora?" he'd ask.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mister P," Shelley would say, or something comparable, as he picked at his lips with his teeth. "I don't know. Her unit isn't under my clearance."

And Prometheus would frown. Once, when Shelley was irritated at a superior, he had touted their decision as bollocks. And that's exactly what this was: bollocks. The next morning Prometheus said as much to Dr. Turner, the grey-haired supervisor for his project, who manifested once a month to prod at Prometheus with a steel rod and make generalizations.

"An interesting colloquialism you've picked up on there," Dr. Turner said in her lilting Georgian accent, requesting the results for the diagnostics from an anxious trainee. She rubbed at her significant double chin, sending a scrutinizing gaze over him. "But no matter. You'll be visiting Pandora today."

"Today?" Prometheus nearly stepped off the raised platform he was meant to remain on.

Dr. Turner smiled. "Yes, today. And this time, you'll be able to speak to her, if you want."

+++​

Pandora was already in the glass room when he arrived, and Shelley opted to remain outside, since Prometheus wouldn't really be alone at all. He walked slowly, his pace reflecting his hesitation. People watched, but he didn't care to identify them. Eventually he decided on his first question.

"Pandora," he began, "is your hair soft?" His audio sensors picked up titters from observation deck, but he didn't laugh. Another error, of course. He sighed, taking pains to correct it.

"I meant good morning." It was a good morning. Today, at least. "I'm named Prometheus," he said, so close to the glass his nose almost touched it.

 

[Fable]

elusivethought

Pandora was excited to meet Prometheus. When she spotted him on the other side of the glass barrier she smiled at him brightly, though she didn't rush over since Ms. Taylor had told her that her eagerness might come off too strong to Prometheus. Surprisingly it had been Prometheus himself who rushed to the glass and quickly scribbled on the glass using a black sharpie. It was in binary and her blue eyes quickly tried to read what he had written. However, the glass was quickly changed from transparent to opaque. Her handler quickly urged Pandora to leave the room, though she hesitated and lingered for a few moments to see if maybe they'd change their minds. Ms. Taylor said it was doubtful.

During the two weeks since that meeting, Pandora would inquire daily if she was going to get to see Prometheus. Every day she was given the same answer, and it was 'no.' They wouldn't tell her why, only that it currently wasn't possible. So, during that time Pandora used her tablet to try and find what it was that Prometheus had tried to write to her and why it had caused such a fuss. She found that they had blocked her access to searching for the sonnet. However, Ms. Taylor - thinking it was something Pandora had happened across - recited the whole sonnet, not knowing that it had been what Prometheus had written until the Prometheus group had e-mailed a memo on the matter.

Dr. Fanning had asked her what she thought of the sonnet and she had said it was 'lovely.' That seemed to make him concerned. When he asked her why she thought that, she said it was something about the tone of the sonnet that seemed important, but that she couldn't understand what emotion it was supposed to evoke.

---

"Pandora, during your nightly defragmentation process, an anomaly occurred," Dr. Fanning began at another session.

"An anomaly?"

"Yes. Your handler has an interesting theory on the matter, but I want to know if you remember it. Do you remember anything different while your defrag process was ongoing?"

Pandora sat there silently for a moment as she recalled the information from the process. She tried to locate what he was calling an anomaly. It was small, barely a fraction of a second, but there was a small interruption. It was poorly rendered, but it was a still image of Prometheus from their first encounter. She looked at Dr. Fanning and told him what it was and asked about it. It hadn't caused any errors that she could find in her systems diagnostics.

"Pandora, do you know what a dream is?"

"There are many definitions of the word, all depending on context. I require more specification."

"Dream; a series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind during sleep. Did you dream, Pandora? About Prometheus."

"Yes."

With that Dr. Fanning's expression became cold and calculating as he looked at her.

---

The next time Pandora and Prometheus met, the room had changed slightly, but that wasn't what bothered Pandora. She had been eager and went up to the glass to greet Prometheus, but his expression wasn't happy. Her own smile faded as he looked at her with what seemed to be miserable appearance. She wondered if she had done something wrong to make him unhappy to see her. With the thick glass between them, he'd not be able to even hear her ask why he was upset with her. The meeting was cut short as Ms. Taylor quickly intervened when Pandora asked if she had done something wrong. Clearly upset herself with the idea that Prometheus didn't want to see her.

However, even after that meeting, the nightly anomalies continued, though instead they were hyper-focused on Prometheus' sad expression. Dr. Fanning seemed worried, but also very interested in this development. He requested specialized studies for the time when she would 'sleep' at night to see if her 'dreams' were more than just still images. They also wanted to see if they could observe the cause. However, they remained as images, randomly appearing sometime during the night and vanished just as suddenly.

Weeks passed then and Pandora asked Ms. Taylor if the reasons why she and Prometheus stopped meeting was because he didn't want to see her. Ms. Taylor seemed hesitant to answer since she knew that her words - even the most simple comments - could influence the android and that was something that was only supposed to happen in a controlled environment.

"I'm not sure, Pandora. Our units are kept separate, so his team and our team don't really associate with each other. I think only Dr. Fanning and a few others have actually interacted with you both. However, there is a visit with Prometheus planned today. You'll actually be able be able to talk to each other, so you will be able to ask him yourself if you want."

When it came time for her to enter the glass-divided room, Pandora was hesitant in entering. She worried she would see the same expression as last time. Seeing that he hadn't arrived yet, she entered the room, her handler standing just inside in front of the door. Her eyes looked at Prometheus as he entered through the door on the other side, slowly entering the room himself and looking just as hesitant as she was. Now that they could talk to each other, she wasn't sure what to say, or how to even ask if he didn't want to see her. However, he spoke first, asking about her hair and if it was soft.

She paused for a moment as she listened to the tenor tone of his voice intently. It was the first time she ever heard him speak. She found that she enjoyed the sound of his voice. After a small pause, she looked at her long hair and experimentally touched it. He then gave her a formal greeting before she had a chance to tell him that she wasn't sure what his perception of 'soft' was.

"Good morning, Prometheus," she replied dutifully, "I'm Pandora." She paused once again, unsure if she should ask her question. However, Ms. Taylor had indicated that asking such a question wasn't off limits.

"Why were you unhappy to see me three weeks ago? Did I do something to upset you? I didn't mean to if I did." The soft laughter from earlier had stopped when she asked her questions, making her wonder if perhaps she really wasn't supposed to ask.

 

[elusivethought]

(( Fable ))

In the beginning, they had been cautious not to anthropomorphize Prometheus. His earliest archived files, buried down in the deepest dregs of memory storage, recorded Prometheus' pronoun as 'it.' He had no gender, no identity, no name, even. The only secure, comforting knowledge he had came to him in streams of numbers and letters and symbols, in dizzying patterns he had spent forever interpreting. Indeed, back then the entire universe hung by the crook of a six, narrowly slipped off the edge of a bracket, curved like the ellipses of a thousand thousand zeros. And there, swinging in flux between the foci, he was all alone.

But things were different, now. Prometheus pressed his face nearer to the glass, mimicking videos of toddlers hypnotized by their flashing tablets. He was Prometheus. She was Pandora. They were androids.

Good morning, Prometheus, she said. I'm Pandora. Hastily Prometheus archived her voice: Audio, Pandora Blue, last saved 2451-03-30, 08:16:53. He closed his eyes, momentarily requesting no further input as he replayed the sound over and over again, tacking on adjectives to describe the recording as an exercise, a habit: warm, soothing, silvery.

Then she spoke to him again, asking why he'd been upset with her. He opened his eyes, and something froze within Prometheus, systems buffering. It struck him as odd that Pandora would ever think that. He shook his head, sidling ever-closer to the glass.

"I was not unhappy to see you," he said, "and I was not upset with you. I thought you might be angry with me." Prometheus bowed his head. "It was my fault they separated us for so long. My mistake. I felt...guilty."

Strange. The longer he spoke to Pandora, the clearer his emotions manifested into words, into processes still tangled but more lucid. He pressed on.

"I think we have been separated for months," Prometheus said. "Years, perhaps, and I do not understand why. Do you?"

He was aware of the sudden buzz of nervous and anxious muttering in observation, and it scared him. His fault, again. Prometheus hastily abandoned the subject, instead clinging uselessly to the glass.

"My test results indicate that I am excellent at inferences and reasoning," he said, not without a hint of pride. "In which areas do you excel, Pandora?"

 

[Fable]

elusivethought

"I was not unhappy to see you and I was not upset with you. I thought you might be angry with me. It was my fault they separated us for so long. My mistake. I felt...guilty."

Pandora's eyes intently studied Prometheus' features as he reacted to her questions and spoke. She hadn't known the reason behind the long gaps of time between their meetings, but Prometheus was stating he was at fault. Her brows furrowed for a moment as she thought back to when he wrote on the glass wall with a sharpie and she had been quickly encouraged to leave. She connected the two events as cause and effect. His actions had resulted in them not to be allowed to meet for a period of time.

She processed the word 'guilt' and titled her head slightly to one side - a small mannerism she had developed when she had been once told to consider things from a 'different angle' and took it a bit too literally - wondering if she should feel upset with him. She wasn't though, she was happy to learn that she had not made him not want to visit with her and also a feeling of what she wondered was... relief?

"I think we have been separated for months. Years, perhaps, and I do not understand why. Do you? My test results indicate that I am excellent at inferences and reasoning. In which areas do you excel, Pandora?"

The sudden change in the subject made her curious about why he had done it. He seemed... nervous? It wasn't as though she would simply forget his initial question about why the time between visits - to him - had been longer than they actually were. However, she used his cue of a subject change as a hint that perhaps he didn't want to discuss that.

"Affective Cognition," she replied, paused and then spoke again," and singing. Though the latter is mostly based upon a majority of opinions being positive in response."

She'd been told why they had wanted her to sing, that singing could express emotion through music and words. They wanted to see if she could sing a song with emotion or if she was just very talented at emotional mimicry. She moved closer to the glass, though she wasn't nearly as pressed to it was Prometheus was.

"Why did you write Shakespeare's Sonnet Eighteen on the glass?" she asked, causing Ms. Taylor to awkwardly cough as she got a glare from Dr. Fanning who was up in the observation area. He clearly was not pleased with the subject. Nor was he pleased when a strict-looking blonde woman in a tight black business suit entered the area, heading directly to where Latimer was currently standing. The woman crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at at Pandora interacting with Prometheus.

"When you convinced me to invest, this wasn't what we had agreed on for the project. You promised the most realistic pleasure model, and I come to find out you've decided to let her interact with another android from a different project. Explain to me how this is supposed to result in a desirable product. All I see here is an innocent little android, and don't get me wrong, there is a market for that, but I need a product that will sell to a large consumer demand," the woman - identified as Jane West, CEO of Red Light Robotics - said with irritation in her voice.

Latimer's gaze didn't shift to look at the businesswoman, "You're witnessing the two most advanced AI units interact. Generally when this happens, it ends up in an endless conversational loop because of over-programming. Once we figure out how these two interact and learn from each other, we can more accurately program desired traits without the problematic errors encountered in the past."

 

[elusivethought]

Singing. Prometheus nodded, understanding the concept but having no experience with which he might truly comprehend. He did not sing; the prerecorded music that his systems provided could play through speakers behind his ears, but he had never been programmed to play his own unique versions of melody. It must be difficult. Pandora's first strength, Affective Cognition, also seemed challenging; to Prometheus, emotions in others were still quite demanding on his processes, and he identified them incorrectly eight times out of ten.

Why did you write Shakespeare's Sonnet Eighteen on the glass? Pandora asked. Prometheus' answer came easily.

"I liked you," he said, "and wanted to communicate it. I am generally encouraged to communicate information regarding emotions." Prometheus stated this simply, as if reciting a weather forecast. "My search engines suggested poetry or prose. That particular sonnet received millions of hits. Did you like it?" For himself, Prometheus did not understand the meaning behind the words -- they were ancient, intricate, and nuanced. His emotional lenses of black and white could not yet decipher fuchsias and crimsons. But perhaps Pandora's could.

Behind him, Prometheus heard the beeping of a door's security unlocked, and his head snapped around to see Shelley sneaking inside, winking and laying a long finger over his lips. Latimer's voice crackled on the intercom.

"Handler Shelley," he said, "you are not authorized to enter." The irritation in his voice was tempered with cool professionalism. "Under these circumstances your android is not certified as safe. This situation is not yet secure and --"

"-- I'm not afraid of him." Shelley's voice remained cheerful, even as he eyed Prometheus. His face was flushed -- a sign of annoyance? Anger? Prometheus couldn't tell, but Shelley continued on. "No worries, mate, it's not time to go back." He'd brought his tablet and began dutifully scribbling notes, ignoring the last of Latimer's huffed warnings.

Prometheus stared at him. "I am...not safe?" Shelley took a step forward, but Prometheus countered one back, wary. He liked Shelley. Shelley took good care of him, and he was kind. If Prometheus wasn't safe, Shelley should not be in close proximity with him.

But Shelley gave him a bolstering smile, waving a hand dismissively. "Don't worry 'bout that, Mister P. Just talk to Pandora."

Prometheus turned but kept his distance from his handler as he focused once more on Pandora. His eyes narrowed in on every angle of her, snapping and storing them in vivid, high definition images.

"Pandora," he said, "are you allowed to sing now? If so, I would like to hear it." Without breaking his gaze, Prometheus settled criss-cross upon the floor, attentive and patient while he awaited her answer.

 

[Fable]

elusivethought
(Lel, prolly think the song is cheesy, but meh.)

"I liked you and wanted to communicate it. I am generally encouraged to communicate information regarding emotions. My search engines suggested poetry or prose. That particular sonnet received millions of hits. Did you like it?"

Pandora stared at Prometheus intently, trying to read his expression as he spoke, finding it somewhat feeling... automatic. She also focused on the word 'liked.' Paste tense. This seem to come into conflict with his words stating he was not unhappy to see her. This confusion clearly displayed on her delicate features as she tried to understand the conundrum.

"I am, confused," she tried to begin, finding difficulty in expressing herself.

Her attention was pulled away as the door behind Prometheus opened to show his handler entering the room. This action seemed to upset Mr. Serious. At first she wasn't sure what the issue was, Ms. Taylor was permitted in the room with her, so why wasn't Prometheus's? The handler seemed agitated by Mr. Serious, but still remained within the room with Prometheus despite Mr. Serious being against it. She observed and watched the exchange between them, paying attention to tone, movement, expression. Was this what Ms. Taylor had meant by a situation being 'tense?'

She looked at Ms. Taylor who fidgeted, though she tried to keep her expression as blank, Pandora noted that Ms. Taylor only ever fidgeted when she was anxious. She looked back at Prometheus who had just been defined as 'unsafe' and backed away from his handler, questioning the statement. His handler didn't seem worried at all, smiling at Prometheus in what Pandora viewed was 'warm.'

"Pandora, are you allowed to sing now? If so, I would like to hear it."

"Vocals only, no songs with lyrics," Dr. Fanning stated.

---

"You are having her interact with a unit you've considered a threat?" Jane asked in a perturbed manner. "I don't want to risk having a problematic android influencing mine. You know how annoying recalls are. What was is, three years ago now your own company had to recall an entire generation of androids because they were vulnerable to hacks? Rumor is that a hacked unit slaughtered five people. I wonder, how much did it cost for that cover up?"

"I think you are mistaken, and that you shouldn't listen to rumors Ms. West," Mr. Latimer replied cooly, though his dark eyes narrowed as he looked down at the woman. She was a dangerous person to upset. She was in control of one of the most profitable companies and was known to be ruthless and a schemer.

---

"It seems I am permitted to sing," she replied to Prometheus in response to his request. She mentally went through all the songs she knew, focusing on ones that did not have lyrics. Finding one she closed her eyes and began to sing.

"Why no words?" Jane asked, turning her attention to Dr. Fanning who was watching the exchange with intensity as he scribbled away notes on his tablet.

"Currently words have more influence over their mental processes. Prometheus could guess the emotion behind a song based on the lyrics alone. If she only sings with vocals, he is forced to interpret the song based on his own perception, maybe even emotion if she manages to get him to feel something. So far she mostly just emulates songs, but there are some moments where they seem to appear genuine renditions. It's fairly fascinating."

"Hm. I expect a report on all these meetings Latimer, or you'll be having to see someone from my company lurking around here, or worse, being directly involved with Pandora. I don't appreciate lies of omission." With that Jane left, pulling out her phone and calling someone.

"I hate that woman," Mr. Latimer said under his breath, getting a smirk from Dr. Fanning.

---

Pandora finished singing and opened her eyes to look at Prometheus, "I forgot... I should have asked you what type of music you preferred. Apologies. Ms. Taylor tries to remind me of these things, but I really should remember them myself."

 

[elusivethought]

(( Fable YO NO the song was amazing!!! Also sorry this took ages. Also also I wrote this under the influence of alcohol. So uhh...))

His handlers, both old and new, often said Prometheus liked music. The term of preference had evaded him for a while, glossing it into something less tangible, like colors: blue -- #0000FF -- 0, 0, 255 --sky. They had probably interpreted this from the way he tended to initiate his music application during off hours, setting concertos of sound bounding off the bare concrete walls at full volume.

Looking back, analyzing old archives, Prometheus discovered it had been an error of space. He'd meant to fill it with sound. But Pandora's singing... His eyelids fluttered closed, reactions flickering and stuttering as the music flooded him.

In a clinical, altogether distanced analysis, they were only sound waves -- sound waves bouncing in the separate chamber Pandora stood in, pinging off the surfaces and being absorbed by equipment that replayed it for Prometheus in a minutely-less clear version. Then according to pitch, the song began low, stepping up in an elaborate pattern of crystal-clear intervals measured by carefully established frequencies.

Yet beyond, far beyond all of that, something else hid between the furiously vibrating tones. Prometheus pressed his forehead against the glass, yearning for it. Soon the adjectives came to him unbidden, produced as easily as a set of equations, programmed somewhere deep inside him. He listed them as he heard them -- no, felt them: hesitation, loneliness, longing, abandon, surrender... He marveled at this new brand of music. This music didn't fill him, it tugged.

When the last note rang with utter finality, though not quite resolved, Prometheus cut the recording into a separate file, archiving it deep, deep down, where codes lay buried deep like treasure. His eyes opened, and he fingered the glass between them, pressing experimentally at its inflexible form.

"No," he said, in almost-surprise, "no, that was...beautiful. Thank you." Prometheus stood, joints well-oiled and without creaks. "Everyone says I like all music, but I believe I prefer that. I prefer you singing. Might I always have you sing for me?" Hopeful, Prometheus turned to Shelley with a smile, but it quickly vanished. His handler's face was cradled in his hands, and his shoulders trembled. The tablet clattered to the floor.

"Shelley?" Prometheus didn't dare another step, not with Latimer's warning. "Are you all right?" While Prometheus had some medical information stored, he did not think his training was yet approved. Shelley waved his android's concern away with a hand, shaking his head until his dark hair fell upon his forehead. Prometheus turned, his focus honed back upon Pandora.

"Do you know when I'll get to see you again?" he asked her, feeling the seconds tick by in an internal analog clock. "I ask about you every day, Pandora. Did you know that?" His fingers curled into a fist, and his knuckles kissed the glass. "Every day."

 

[Fable]

elusivethought
(Glad you liked the song. Shelley has dem feels!)

Pandora smiled at Prometheus's compliment as he called her singing beautiful. Her expression however changed to mild concern as Promtheus looked over at his handler - Shelley - who appeared very distressed. She watched the tablet fall to the floor and then looked back towards the man. She glanced at her own handler who was also staring at Shelley, though she didn't seem very concerned over the body language presented. Pandora wondered if she had maybe sung too loudly or hit a pitch that had hurt the male's hearing. However, he brushed away Prometheus's concerns silently. She wanted to ask if she had caused some sort of harm, but glancing up at the observation deck, no one seemed worried really, just focused.

"Do you know when I'll get to see you again?" Prometheus asked her. "I ask about you every day, Pandora. Did you know that?" His fingers curled into a fist, and his knuckles kissed the glass. "Every day."

"Every day?" she asked him curiously, moving a bit closer to the glass, "I also inquire about you every day as well. I do not know when we'll get to see each other again. Ms. Taylor says she 'isn't in charge of the schedule or meetings,' that Mr. Serious is."

Her handler coughed awkwardly and loudly then as she heard Pandora refer to Latimer as the name she usually called him. The subject of the nickname glared at Ms. Taylor darkly with a clear message of a talk about her reference regarding him as inappropriate. Dr. Fanning just smirked with amusement, but continued to dutifully observe and listen to Pandora and Prometheus's interaction. Sometimes he would hastily mark down notes, but otherwise remained silent.

"Pandora, his name is Mr. Latimer," her handler corrected.

"Noted," Pandora replied, though her focus was still entirely on Prometheus. "Prometheus, do you dream? I do sometimes, about you, though I don't think I'm very good at dreaming. The visuals are always imperfect, though they do seem to be improving over time."

She raised her hand and used her index finger to seemingly trace out Prometheus's facial features on the glass. She could easily recall visual data from all their interactions without any issues. They rendered just as she saw them, but the ones that happened while she was defragging had visual glitching. Dr. Fanning had explained that as they were anomalies that were not supposed to be happening as a possible reason. However, since he had asked her to first review the defragmentation anomalies she'd noticed they were becoming clearer and longer in duration. At first they were barely a second long, now they were two seconds long.

 

[elusivethought]

(( Fable whoopeeee sorry the tomatoes and pirates distracted me))

Prometheus tried not to look too disappointed when Pandora admitted she didn't know when they'd see each other next. His mouth opened, overflowing with more questions about their interactions, but she continued, probably wisely. Her faux pas concerning Mr. Latimer's name caused Prometheus to finally glance up, hazarding a thorough visual inspection of each of their observers.

Latimer, cross and shifting in his chair, peered down at Pandora with his mouth twisted in what Prometheus hesitantly categorized as disgust or deep offense, based on the media he shifted around and compared internally. Nearby the ever-familiar Dr. Fanning scribbled notes and wore an entertained grin beneath a thin mask of professionalism. And then... another woman walked in, pocketing a phone and whispering something to an intern, who turned pale and dashed away. Prometheus frowned, systems whirring.

Blonde and thin, this newcomer wore a black pencil skirt and pointed heels that misaligned her posture into something stiff, and her severe, pinched face brought to mind the phrase 'stick up their ass,' the nuances of which Prometheus felt he finally understood.

He did not recognize her, and he wasn't sure she wanted to. Even the others seemed perturbed by her appearance, as though they had not expected her presence. Her eyes flashed down at him, like an eagle eyeing its prey, and Prometheus would later claim he got the feeling she didn't like him, even as Dr. Fanning insisted that was impossible, as Ms. West showed great interest in artificial intelligence.

Pandora spoke again, wrenching his focus back. At her question, Prometheus nodded eagerly, glad to share something between them.

"Yes, I have dreams," he said, leaning into her intangible touch, eyes following her index finger like fish in an aquarium. "I dream of seeing the sky -- it's blue, just like your eyes. Clear and beautiful and blue." Thus encouraged and uninterrupted, he rambled on.

"The stars too," he said, "counting them all one by one, and climbing so high I can see for miles -- not just video feedback or archived media but to see it. Outside the air is sweet and fresh, and I dream of --"

Dr. Fanning cleared his voice, a crackle in the feedback as he spoke. "No, Prometheus. Not dreams defined as ambitions, or hopes, or aspirations," he said, a patient, perhaps nervous laugh wavering the edges of his words. He steepled his fingers before his mouth. "What Pandora is referring to is a visual anomaly during her defragmentation process at night." When Prometheus frowned in confusion, Fanning sighed and went on. "She means dreams, Prometheus -- mental processes only humans experience, at varying rates and frequencies."

Prometheus' excitement vanished. "Oh." He shook his head. "No, I do not dream. Is it pleasant? And if only humans should experience it, why do you, Pandora?"

Dr. Fanning coughed. "The, uh, phenomenon is, uh, being researched and currently --"

"This is enough interaction for one morning," Latimer interrupted, his voice icy and sharp. With a wave of his hand, the doors behind Prometheus beeped and whooshed open, allowing handlers assistants to pour inside. Prometheus shook his head.

"No!" he said, "please, just a little more time. Let Pandora answer my question, at least."

The white coats behind him paused, waiting for orders from the towering man behind the glass. Latimer nodded, once, and Prometheus turned to Pandora, tapping his finger on the glass to the mark of each passing second, pretending he might slow down time if he concentrated enough.

 

[Fable]

elusivethought
(Lol, I imagined pirates canning tomatoes. OML sorry this is so long. >_>;;; )

"Yes, I have dreams," Prometheus said, leaning into her intangible touch, eyes following her index finger like fish in an aquarium. "I dream of seeing the sky -- it's blue, just like your eyes. Clear and beautiful and blue."

Pandora's white brows furrowed slightly at this reply. She wondered if she had spoken with incorrect context that had caused Prometheus to answer in such a way. However, Dr. Fanning was quick to clarify Pandora's question. Even though he hadn't answered her question when she had inquired - at least until Dr. Fanning spoke on the matter - she had learned something about Prometheus. Her mind worked speedily as it connected revelations together, weaving into a theory - an assumption - about Prometheus who was still very much a mystery to her.

Her mind pulled words from a database trying to find the correct ones to best explain her thoughts. Though he said he had dreamed of doing things, the way in which he spoke made it sound as though he had imagined scenarios based on those desires. Her expression was focused, studious, as she tried to think to a moment where she herself had 'used her imagination.' She removed her hand from the glass as she struggled to find an instance of what she was searching for, but she found nothing. She had never imagined anything. It was always pulled information from various media sources and information given to her. She had never tried to imagine anything more than what was presented.

"Oh." Prometheus shook his head. "No, I do not dream. Is it pleasant? And if only humans should experience it, why do you, Pandora?"

"The, uh, phenomenon is, uh, being researched and currently --"

Pandora looked away from Prometheus's general direction and instead took in her surroundings as though she was seeing it for the first time. White walls, glass, metal, the sounds of breathing and heartbeats. She looked at the blonde woman who stared down at her with a strange intensity in her eyes. She looked back at Prometheus and then she looked down at her own body, lifting her hands slightly and looking down at her palms as she flexed her fingers.

"This is enough interaction for one morning," Latimer interrupted, his voice icy and sharp.

"No!" Prometheus said, "please, just a little more time. Let Pandora answer my question, at least."

Pandora had heard his question, but it had been filed away to a place like a mental queue as she grew distressed. She had thought she and Prometheus were the same. They were both androids, so why were they so different? It wasn't a physical difference, it was a difference of... capabilities and understanding. Dr. Fanning had called her dreams anomalies... and Prometheus didn't have them. She backed away from the glass a half-step as she looked at Dr. Fanning and asked, "Am I defective?"

"We're ending this session now," Dr. Fanning said in an out-of-character stern tone. The glass suddenly went opaque and sound completely turned off between the cells as Ms. Taylor quickly ushered Pandora out of the room.

It was after this session that Pandora seemed to go into a stasis-mode without any prompting from her handler, Dr. Fanning, or any other company personnel. Something completely unheard of. Dr. Fanning connected Pandora to an enclosed system to try and see what had caused her to enter this mode. There was so much equipment being brought in and out for testing and technicians going in and out of the department that eventually rumors of the 'sleeping' android easily made it's rounds throughout the facility.

"Any updates?" Mr. Latimer asked Dr. Fanning as well as Dr. Sidana who had been brought in as no one else had a clue what to do.

"Well, she's not completely shut down. There are background processes going on right now, but they are so deeply encrypted by her there is little chance to figure out what they are all about," Dr. Sidana replied, rubbing his tired eyes as he had spent hours at the terminal.

"Can't you just decrypt it? Your partner programmed her after all."

"This isn't anything we've programmed into her for security protocols or protection. This is all her. I can't even run a diagnostic scan of her systems, it just comes back as everything being nominal. If anything, I think Dr. Fanning's theory is all we have right now."

"I refuse to believe that a machine can feel depressed," Mr. Latimer nearly growled out in annoyance, though it his comments only came out with a slight edge.

"I didn't say she felt depressed. I said she thought she was defective for some reason."

"Based on what we are observing, it's likely that the idea of being defective sent her off on what I would call 'deep reflection of self.' When she first went into stasis, it was as though she was initiating a defragmentation session, but instead as we watched she just kept going deeper into her own programming to a place where we can't even observe. It's actually quite incredible, because if you think about learning AI's, especially these units, that means that this is coding she's done on her own or learned."

"She's been like this for weeks. That West woman is on my ass and is probably about ready to pull some kind of retributive stunt for feeling as though we were going to give her a worthless unit. If this thing doesn't returning to a fully functioning status-"

Pandora sat up suddenly then, causing everyone in the room to startle. Mr. Latimer even let out a loud shout of alarm and stumbled backwards as she looked towards him. Dr. Fanning swallowed hard and was breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath. Dr. Sidana - also alarmed by her sudden movement - gave her a friendly smile once his nerves calmed down somewhat.

"Hello my dear Pandora, you had us worried. How are you feeling?"

"I didn't mean to worry anyone. I am fine. How are you?"

"Well, thankfully I've got a strong ticker. Would you be so kind as to explain what you were doing? You went into stasis for a long while."

"I wanted to understand why I was different from Prometheus."

"Why is that?"

"He had an imagination. I did not."

"Didn't? So... you do now?" Dr. Fanning asked hesitantly.

"I believe so," Pandora replied with a happy smile. Mr. Latimer frowned and told both Fanning and Sidana he would speak with them both at a later time. Fanning inquired about the Eden phase before he left to which Latimer said only after two weeks of observation.

---

It had been five weeks since Pandora had last seen Prometheus, though three of those week she'd been internally trying understand why she and Prometheus weren't alike. She at first greatly wondered if it was a matter of being defective. Had a line of code somewhere become corrupted? Was this what was causing the anomalies? She had spent the first week sifting through her programming trying to find a defect, but there was nothing. So she went deeper, to try and understand the anomalies and if there was a source, but there wasn't anything there. The anomalies only existed as records, but was not the result of any of her basic programming. So, she went deeper inside of herself to try and imagine. To use data and concepts together. It had taken her a while, but eventually she finally understood that she had just never tried to imagine and therefore she needed to learn how. It was harder than she thought. She just kept pulling data instinctively. Eventually, she pushed herself so deep she couldn't even do that, she had to force herself to create data; to imagine. It was small at first. She imagined a small little light, and from there it grew into the form of shape, then the shape into color, until eventually she had created an entire scenery based only out of her imagination. A bright blue sky speckled with white fluffy clouds mirrored almost perfectly on still water.

The two weeks after she came out of her self-imposed stasis, she was observed 24/7. She had tried to explain what she had done to both Dr. Fanning and Dr. Sidana. Dr. Fanning seemed concerned, but never directly told her what it was that was the cause of his concern. Dr. Sidana was very interested, asking her as many questions as he could. Since during those two weeks Pandora had been cleared and reported as in 'full working order' that she could move onto the Eden Phase.

"What is the Eden Phase?" she asked Ms. Taylor as followed after her handler.

"It's a surprise."

"Is it Prometheus?" The question caused Ms. Taylor to laugh.

"What makes you ask that?"

"The only time I can state I was 'surprised' was when I met Prometheus."

"You'll just have to be patient and see."

The rest of their walk was done in silence, though it wasn't for very long. They began to pass by windows that revealed a lovely grand garden on the other size. She had seen images and videos of nature before, but never experienced it for herself. She was burning with curiosity. After a few minutes, with Pandora staring through the windows as they walked, eventually they stopped at a pair of double doors that slid open to grant access into the garden.

"I get to go in?" Pandora asked with excitement.

"Yes, you get to go in, alone. I'll be keeping watch though," Ms. Taylor said, using one of her hands to motion for Pandora to go inside.

There was no hesitation as Pandora stepped past the door and onto the stone pathway. She inhaled deeply, letting her senses take in everything for a long moment. She looked back to give her handler a smile and a wave before she walked along the path to explore this new environment. There were trees, bushes, ponds, koi fish in the ponds, flowers of all kinds, and soft grass. It was very different from the sterile world she lived in. They even went as far as using a special heat/UV lamp to replicate the sun, so she could feel the warmth on her artificial skin.

She found a spot that was like an open field with nothing but tall grass and flowers. She flopped down and laid on her back and closed her eyes, letting her other senses become more focused. The scent of flowers, the texture of the grass, the warmth she felt from the lamp. All the data being filed away and stored.

 

[elusivethought]

( Fable omg eden phaseeeeeee)

"Then the glass went white," Prometheus described, staring at the plastery walls of his new chambers that stood all clinical and crisp and pristine. Dr. Fanning peered at Prometheus through the glare on the glass window, eyebrows furrowing.

"Go on," Dr. Fanning instructed, inclining his head. Prometheus practiced his adjectives. Cool. Professional.

"Everyone panicked," Prometheus said, folding his hands over his stomach. "You ended the session. They escorted me back to my room. Shelley exited the corridor with two officials I didn't recognize." Prometheus turned his head and sat up, his eyes traveling down the straight bridge of the doctor's nose. "He never came back."

His internal video playback rolled the scene in perfect memory: Shelley's red-rimmed eyes meeting Prometheus' gaze from over his shoulder, an encouraging half-smile playing across his face as he walked the corridor, diminishing into the dazzling white of the sunlight. Prometheus shut it off, looking back to Fanning.

"Why isn't he back?" Something in Prometheus' voice prompted Dr. Fanning to tear his gaze from his notes. Something flashed in his eyes, something Prometheus could not or did not want to recognize. Fear? Sadness?

Dr. Fanning cleared his throat. "Following protocol is an extremely important requirement for our handlers, Prometheus," he said, rolling up his sleeves in practiced patience. "Shelley will not be returning with us. Do you not like your new handler, Ms. Ruan?" He steepled his fingers, awaiting an answer. Prometheus paused, thinking.

"No, I like Ms. Ruan," Prometheus said, recalling the brusque manner in which her brown eyes regarded him, the sterility of her words, the strict procedure she followed without a hint of joviality, of care or recognition. "She's nice, but she doesn't treat me like..."

"...Like a human?" Heaving a great sigh, Fanning readjusted the levels of the sound system, amplifying his voice. "Shelley did you a disservice, Prometheus, by interacting with you as he did. You are not a human. You are an android."

Prometheus only stared, blinking to find the connection. "Yes, I am," he said slowly, "but what's that have to do with Shelley?"

Dr. Fanning rubbed his fingers against his temples in circles, fiddling with the tablet before him before straightening in his seat. "Tell me again about how you felt when Pandora sang."

Prometheus frowned. All Dr. Fanning cared about was his emotional development, discovering what algorithm had changed inside of Prometheus' systems so that he was able to acknowledge and identify emotionality and expression in song. What code had reprogrammed? What anomaly had occurred? Had Prometheus done this, during defragmentation?

It left Prometheus concerned. Was he not supposed to feel? Was that why another glass was present now? He stood, poking at the corner where the glass embedded into the concrete, digging his finger as deep into the groove as possible.

Dr. Fanning glanced up, eyes wide. "Prometheus, what are you doing?"

"Making observations," he said, but he lowered his hands, sensing he should stop. Dr. Fanning relaxed, sinking back into his chair and rubbing at the shadows beneath his eyes. Wrinkles pressed deep into his shirt, and Prometheus had notice neglect in the care of his fine cashmere suits. Even Dr. Sidana, determinedly cheerful and positive, appeared distracted.

"Something is wrong," Prometheus blurted out, the words pinging and vibrating sharp against the concrete. "What is it?"

Dr. Fanning flashed a quick, tired smile. "Nothing of your concern, Prometheus. Thank you. This session has ended."

Then the glass went white.

+++​

Ms. Michelle Ruan had a highly prestigious background, according to the whispers Prometheus overheard in transit from observation rooms. She boasted extensive education and experience in the field, and even a broad history in artificial intelligence engineering, which included a brief stint in the Marine Corps Reserve. Prometheus watched her carefully, practicing observations.

Even now, walking down the corridors to an undisclosed location, Ms. Ruan moved with military precision and intention. Prometheus had asked where they were going, what they were doing, but all Ms. Ruan would say was that he would find out soon enough. She was hard, though not unfeeling, and she lacked the words of encouragement Prometheus had grown accustomed to, that he still so desperately craved.

He missed Shelley and Pandora, even though he'd stopped asking about them. He only told Dr. Fanning he never felt more alone, and wondered if he'd make his own observations.

"Here we are," Ms. Ruan said crisply, unlocking the door with the swipe of a card. "You will be going in alone. I will be monitoring your every movement." With a great whoosh, the double doors slid open, fully revealing what was beyond.

It was a garden -- a lush, green garden that trembled and frothed over with life. Prometheus stared for a moment, systems overwhelmed by the sensory overload. He took a step back, then his lenses honed in on a beetle -- a real beetle with a dark carapace of deep prismatic tints. Prometheus followed it to another leaf and hardly noticed the doors gliding closed behind him.

It was remarkable how the quality of light, sound, and vision increased with real experience. While the beetle rested, fluttering its wings, Prometheus glanced around, marveling at it all. This was more than a panoramic view, an oscillating camera, a high definiton recording. This was beautiful and vivid and real.

The beetle buzzed again, flitting impatiently back into the air, and Prometheus bounded after it, slinking through the tall grasses that tickled his skin. Meanwhile he studied the beetle's flight pattern -- the frequency with which it beat its wings, how it moved with the air currents around it. Now aware of its pursuer, the beetle flew faster, more frantic until it sailed up, far, far up towards a white, greenhouse-like dome.

No blue, Prometheus thought, disappointment filling his chest even as he ran. No --

"Oof!" An object suddenly obstructed his path, catching his foot and propelling him forward with surprising kinetic motion. He slid into the soft pillow of grass, standing and frowning at the stains that marred his white shirt with green smears.

Eyebrows knitted, Prometheus slowly crept to the obstacle, pressing apart the tall grass to find --

"Pandora?" Prometheus asked, stumbling away, unused to this textured and uneven floor. He felt his input systems whirring, overheating at this new development. A couple more panicky steps distanced them further, and Prometheus waited, tense, for something bad to happen.

"I...don't think we are both supposed to be here," he said, taking another step back. After weeks and weeks of separation and that disastrous last meeting, this did not seem a logical conclusion.

 

[Fable]

elusivethought
(Gideon and his fascination might be his undoing, hue~ Also, first name reveals!)

"I assume they are both inside?" Dr. Fanning asked as he approached Ms. Taylor, who had moved to a room filled with various monitors displaying different angles and visuals of both Pandora and Prometheus. Prometheus's new handler - Ms. Michelle Ruan - entered silently, taking a seat in one of the chairs within the room as a security tech adjusted the cameras as needed to follow after their targets.

"Yes sir," the tech replied.

"Is this really a good idea Gideon?" Ms. Taylor asked of Dr. Fanning with a bit of concern. "I mean, there have been some concerns and issues recently. To push-"

"Those incidents are simply a product - an effect - of the experiments. To cease these tests would be counterproductive," he interjected, "We simply have to accommodate, adapt, and adjust as needed. We've learned more about the AI brain with these two units than ever before."

"But, Prometheus has become unpredictable. Pandora, too. The project has become so high risk now."

"Liza, there are protocols in place should things become dangerous. Your speaking out of fear, which I cannot say is not a justified reaction. After all, as humans, we fear the unknown and that is what drives us to learn, or at least it should. We're so used to micromanaging AI's that the unpredictability of those two will of course cause a bit of worry. We're used to being in absolute control. I must say, I am a but surprised by your hesitance since I thought you had a bit of fondness for your assigned unit."

"Let's just say, with her 'episode' I was reminded that she's a machine. She's become more distracted since then, more questioning."

"Questioning? That's not abnormal for her."

"It's the type of questions, the existential kind. She asks them in passing and I can't even think of how I should answer them."

"She's asked me similar things, just redirect her toward something else."

"I just don't like not being able to predict her reactions anymore."

"Pandora is the more obedient and submission of the two units. I highly doubt she'd pose a threat to you. Though I must admit I do like her progress. For a while I had concerns about what appeared to be a delay in her understanding certain things that Prometheus is capable of comprehending. She internalizes more is what I have come to observe."

"And that doesn't concern you? Not knowing what she's thinking. Makes me shudder sometimes when she just stares at me."

"Oh, you're too dramatic sometimes Liza."

---

Pandora had been completely content to just lay in the grass, to let her physical body experience these new and unfamiliar sensations and letting her mind process the information. Warm. Earthy. She was associating words beyond their definition and applying them to real world experience now. However, she was interrupted when something kicked into her side suddenly. Her sensors went off and she recognized the sensation as 'pain' where what has struck her connected with her body. Pain was still something very unfamiliar to Pandora. She'd only experienced in testing when they wanted to test her artificial nervous system.

She sat up quickly and looked around to try and find the source of the impact only to spot Prometheus staggering away from her as he spoke her name with a questioning tone. She scrambled up to her feet in surprise and took a few steps back away from him as well.

"I...don't think we are both supposed to be here," Prometheus said.

Pandora's eyes were wide and she looked around somewhat nervously trying to spot if they were being approached by someone; their handlers, security, anyone. No one came.

"I do not think this situation is accidental," she finally commented as she looked in the direction she had come from. If they hadn't been meant to meet within this space, then those in charge would have made sure that they wouldn't be in the garden at the exact same time. She slowly turned to look back at Prometheus, feeling what she assumed was perhaps nervousness. When they had been in the room with the glass wall, they'd only had to the option of speaking to each other for communication in a sterile setting. She knew what to expect with those arranged and openly observed meetings where their others could end the session quickly and suddenly.

This garden sitting removed the wall and their observers were no longer obvious. It also meant that should something 'go wrong' as Ms. Taylor put it, it would take them longer to disrupt their discussion.

"They did not tell me that we were meeting today. Ms. Taylor just said it was a surprise. Also, I should apologize as the long delay between our meetings was my fault this time."

 

[elusivethought]

(( Fable Sorry it took forever! Dialogue posts be short, too, oops. #butterflykisses))

Prometheus followed Pandora's gaze, tracking the paths she was predicting and calculating in her mind. He nodded, his initial fear at doing something improper or unauthorized fading away like the hummed flight of the beetle. Their entrances mirrored each other, and even a winding path inwards might have led them to each other eventually. There was no glass. No barriers. Prometheus stared at her.

Although the glass separating them had been scrupulously clean, all crisp and transparent, there was something more vivid about Pandora now. Prometheus' head cocked, his focus falling over her eagerly. He settled a few safe paces away from her, legs folding beneath him.

"It was your fault?" he questioned, forehead wrinkling. Realizing the manner in which he worded it might imply blame or anger, Prometheus shook his head and tried again. "I only meant, what happened? Why do you believe you are to blame?" His fingers twisted in the long blades of grass, wistful and slow as he eyed her long, white-blonde hair.

"I wasn't aware, either," he said. "I was told nothing about this meeting. My new handler, Ms. Ruan, told me I'd be entering alone. I assumed that also meant I would be alone." Prometheus followed a monarch butterfly as its orange and black wings spread into the breezes, white flecks glistening in the artificial sun. "I am not alone, though. There is life -- everywhere." He pulled his hands away from the grass, marveling at the green smears they left behind. Prometheus beamed at Pandora.

"And you're here," he added. Pandora was just like him. Or, mostly like him. The loneliness that had plagued him for the past weeks ebbed, easing into an instinctual companionship. Or, no, not instinctual, he corrected himself -- programmed.

Still, it felt nice. Prometheus reached out his hand, palm up.

"Your skin," he said, "is it the same as mine? Can I feel?" He froze, however, as the curious monarch flitted and perched upon his forearm, its tickling legs triggering a sensitivity reaction in his systems. Tense-muscled and shallow-breathed, Prometheus leaned forward, peering into its striped compound eye, then flinching as it took off again.

"I think I like it here," he decided aloud, stretching his hand closer to Pandora with an eager grin.

 

[Fable]

elusivethought
(It's fine, no worries. I'm trying to catch up on my RP replies before this weekend since I'll be getting ready for the drive home around that time... and other dealings cause I damaged my car. >_>; Excuse mistakes, I wanted to get this post out. X3 )

Pandora watched as Prometheus moved a small distance away from her. She herself had always been reminded to keep a certain distance away from others as part of a safety protocol. She was expected to maintain out of arm's reach from others unless otherwise given permission. She was not to touch others without permission either. So she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he had been given the same requirements.

"It was your fault?" Prometheus questioned before taking a moment to clarify, "I only meant, what happened? Why do you believe you are to blame?"

She wasn't sure if she was allowed to tell him. It was strange being left alone without her handler to direct her. There was always someone there, watching and somewhat guiding her. Her body language showed signs of hesitation as she moved to hold her arms behind her back, avoiding looking directly in Promtheus' eyes, looking as guilty and shamed as she felt. Though he didn't seem upset with her over the long time between this visits, she felt bad for it happening because of her actions.

"I wasn't aware, either," he said. "I was told nothing about this meeting. My new handler, Ms. Ruan, told me I'd be entering alone. I assumed that also meant I would be alone. And you're here."

At the unfamiliar name, Pandora's lips pursed slightly as she tried to recall if she had ever interacted or observed a person by that name. However, there was nothing she could find in her memory storage in association with the surname. Just as she was about to asked what happened to his other handler, Prometheus spoke once again.

"Your skin," he said, "is it the same as mine? Can I feel?"

Pandora titled her head to the side at his question. She looked at his outstretched hand before her gaze was captured by the brightly colored butterfly that decided to perch on his forearm. Just like Prometheus, she was frozen in fascination as her mind hyper-focused on the small creature to store as much input as she could. When the insect fluttered away on the artificial breeze, she looked back at Prometheus, whose hand was still reaching out towards her.

"I think I like it here."

She moved her hands from her back to her sides, lifting one to look at her own hand and then back at his. She felt... nervous and curious. She too wanted to know if they had been made the same technical way. They were obviously different physically, but that didn't mean they were made with different materials.

Pandora moved closer to Prometheus, though mindful of distance still, before she experimentally took her index finger and poked his open palm. It was more out of a concern that the moment they actually touched someone would pop out and tell her to step away. But nothing happened. She flopped down on the ground before curiously stroking her fingers over the skin of his own, noting the difference in skin tone and slight difference in texture. It wasn't rough like the flesh of those she'd encountered. Normal humans had a variety of skin texture, but Prometheus' felt smooth and soft. It was to be expected since their own skin was completely artificial, made of complex self-healing polymer.

"Oh, sorry," she said suddenly as she realized she had been assaulting his hand, though she didn't let go of his hand, "I'm.. not hurting you am I? I once accidentally grabbed someone's hand to hard for a handshake."

She gently manipulated his hand so that she could press the palm of her hand against his to see the size difference between them. Her hand seemed more delicate in design than his.

"Are you ticklish?" she asked suddenly. She wasn't sure if she was, but she'd always been curious about what being tickled felt like. She'd seen plenty of videos of people unable to keep themselves from laughing due to this phenomenon.

 

[elusivethought]

(( Fable omg it’s been forever wewps. #touchyfeely))

Sometimes Prometheus suspected Dr. Fanning of revealing things he oughtn't. One day, after pressing his robopsychologist for answers, Dr. Fanning raised his voice over Prometheus’ protestations, insisting sometimes people didn’t want to answer questions, and they didn’t have to. It was a hard lesson learned for Prometheus, who followed whatever code filtered through his systems. Generally he approached when bidden. Moved when commanded. Answered when prompted. There were exceptions, of course, but especially his beginnings were black and white, yes and no. Only recentlg were shades of grey being introduced to him, and even those were fuzzy and unfamiliar.

Yet Prometheus frowned at Pandora. Her hesitation at answering his question prompted a newfound curiosity. Was he allowed to avoid specific commands, then? To evade questions from his handlers? Or was Pandora only better at it? Perhaps programmed for a more human-like response?

His focus soon honed upon the touch sensation of her finger prodding his skin. Registering her hesitation and inferring the reason behind it, Prometheus twisted his neck too, searching for the telltale crackle heralding commands to cease, or the scream of an alarm announcing trouble.

But after a minute with no signs of danger, Pandora relaxed, and Prometheus scooted closer to her, allowing her full inspection of his hand.

He gave her a hesitant smile, his input overwhelmed by the new sensations. Her own skin was like silk, almost impossibly smooth and flawless, and when she pressed her palm against his, his hand dwarfed hers.

At her concern, Prometheus shook his head. “You’re not hurting me. It’s...nice, I think,” he decided, brows furrowed at their kissing fingertips. Her next question baffled him, and he searched inwardly for a moment, trying to read any program that might suggest ticklishness.

Prometheus shrugged. “No, I don’t think I have the state of mind to be ticklish. Do you?” he asked, and out of habit he glanced to the edges of the grass for affirmation by a handler, but no one stood nodding, or scribbling notes hurriedly, or paling at his answers. His focus slid back onto their hands, pressed together like ends of a sandwich.

“Your hand is smaller than mine,” he observed aloud, marveling at the dainty manufacturing of her frame structure. His hand twisted, his fingers curling around her hand to measure its size. “May I hold it?” Inspired by video reels of men and women holding hands, Prometheus kept her hand in his, analyzing whether or not its weight held a similar pleasure to that which he’d read on their faces. He frowned, unable to tell. Perhaps it simply took time.

But there was a more pressing curiosity, and his eyes followed it — the rise and fall of her long wisps of hair tugged by the wind.

“May I please feel your hair?” he asked quickly, verging on what Dr. Fanning often referred to as desperation. Rash, impulsive, unpredictable behavior. Something Prometheus apparently had trouble with.

 

[Fable]

elusivethought
(Indeed, a very long time. X3 Sorry it's short >_>;; )

“No, I don’t think I have the state of mind to be ticklish. Do you?”

Pandora purse her lips slightly as she thought on his question. Was it really a state of mind that made one ticklish? She wasn't sure at all. She has tried to tickle herself once, mimicking what she had seen in those videos, but it just felt like she was just poking her skin, nothing more. There was no urge to laugh at all when she'd done it. She quickly reflected back on the scenarios of the videos and realized she had missed an important connection between all the ones where tickling occurred. People were tickling other people, not themselves. Perhaps this was something stimulated by having someone else touch them.

“Your hand is smaller than mine,” Prometheus observed aloud. "May I hold it?”

"Sure," she replied without any hesitation. She was curious about everything regarding Prometheus. She was fascinated and curious about their differences. Physically, they were completely different. However, they seemed to have built with in a similar manner. There was little difference between their skin textures from what she had observed thus far.

“May I please feel your hair?”

She blinked and tilted her head to one side, "You asked me about that before. Yes, you may touch it if you want. Can I tickle you?" she asked after a moment of hesitation. It was still a bit strange being so close to Prometheus, their hands touching, and no escorts in sight. Her blue eyes glanced around, the instinct to have her words and actions given approval still seeded deeply within her. It created a bit of fluttery nervousness to not be guided in her interactions.