st_abilitylost | [Voice Test] Connor & Peter

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[Voice Test] Connor & Peter - Seasons Greetings

Of every face that Connor’s internal database failed to recognize since the beginning of his short stay, the only source of familiarity was found in the inanimate statues of Mr. and Mrs. Claus mounted in the lobby. He recognzied then as symbols of generosity and goodwill towards all humanity, but something about the way the sculptor chose to craft their features seemed...off.

He didn’t have any business lingering and passing judgements on the craftsmanship but there was no lieutenant to bark at him for “spacing out” and it all left him at, for lack of a better phrase, a loss.

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Another face.

Warm. Trusted.

These images being brought forth were immediate things, and not logical like the connections his neural network usually made.

"I have someone I call a partner."

Peter's going to take that means that Connor has a friend.

"If something happened to your friend -- like he was hurt and he was going to die, but helping him might interfere with your mission... would you still not do anything?"

"Keeping him safe is part of my mission." Connor immediately replied, almost insistent. "I was assigned to act at his side. I can't see the mission through without him."

"But what if it weren't?"

There was no situation where Connor could justify letting harm come to the lieutenant through his action or inaction. They shared an initiative--as much as Hank resented it at first. But that was changing.

Though if the day were to arrive that Hank, through some twist of circumstances, were to act against him...

"...I would judge the risks and act accordingly."

Peter looks at Connor, his gaze serious; he knows he's pushing this -- that he's probably even pushing Connor's boundaries. Maybe it isn't right of him as a human to tell an android how they should feel or who they should be.

But Ultron was a real AI. So was Vision. Who wasn't to say that the androids in Connor's timeline weren't, too?

"So you'd let your friend die?" Peter asks.

Connor's LED began to flicker that warning color at the continued prompting, and he felt it like it were physical feedback.

His mental simulations were as vivid as day, as they always were, preconstructing scenarios from whole cloth. It was like seeing Hank die there in the room, even though the man was an indeterminable distance away. Connor pressed a finger lightly to his temple, ceasing the process manually.

Peter hadn't noticed it before, but he definitely noticed it now. The yellow light on the side of Connor's head. His school laptop had an LED indicator that lit up from time to time like it: blue when it was on and functioning, red when it was overheating or couldn't be booted up, and yellow when it was processing slowly of locking up.

Was Connor locking up? Guilt suddenly swells inside of Peter as he closes the space between him and Connor. "Hey," he says. "Connor, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Connor managed, though it was stiff. Peter was simply positing a scenario that wasn't entirely outside of the realm of possibility. Preconstruction was a natural routine for him. Nothing about it should have prompted that error. "My apologies." He lowered his hand, straightening his tie as he regained his composure.

Peter doesn't seem entirely convinced, and that's precisely why he's willing to let this particular conversation thread go.

"Karen is this AI that exists in my Spider-Man suit," he says instead. Karen somehow feels like a safer topic. "Her mission is to help me when I'm fighting bad guys, but she really is my friend and I'd really be upset if something happened to her."

A beat, and then: "I'm sure your friend would feel the same way."

"He did. I think." Connor's memories of the incident in the kitchens were hazy. But for all he'd forgotten, he clearly remembered Hank's voice calling his name.

Peter shifts where he stands. Despite Connor's reassurances, he doesn't step back to where he was standing before that disc on the side of his head lit up yellow. "It sounds like you guys are close."

"Actually, you are." Connor replied with a faint questioning lilt, noting the lack of distance between them. How had that escaped his keen eye until now? Recalibration took only moments, if that.

"Oh," Peter says, taking a step back, then another. People usually didn't bring up other people being in their personal space unless they didn't like it.

Once he's steadied himself a few feet away, he looks over at Connor for judgment. "This okay?"

"We can talk at whatever distance you prefer, Peter. But I get the sense you're worried. Don't be." Connor's social relations program kicked in, meaning to ease Peter's tension.

Connor's reading is true. "I just don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

The moment that Peter says it, he knows already that Connor will dispute it; uncomfortable is a feeling and he doesn't have feelings.

Peter sighs.

On the contrary, it was Connor who couldn't satisfy this human's needs, despite his efforts.

"You're very kind, Peter." Connor admitted, adjusting his sleeves. "You remind me of Lieutenant Anderson."

Peter watches as Connor adjusts his sleeves with neat, deliberate movements. It was almost disconcerting.

"Is Lieutenant Anderson your friend?"

"He's the detective assigned to the deviant investigation. I was designated as his partner." 'Friend' wasn't the right word, but...it wasn't the wrong word, either. The idea of calling Hank such wasn't disagreeable. Every time Connor was sure he failed his own programming, Hank was there to reassure him. Given the lieutenant's nature, it was unlikely they were idle words, either.

Maybe with a little more time...

Well. It was unlikely they'd get it.

"He's a wildly unpredictable alcoholic with a penchant for playing Russian Roulette, unhealthy food, and arguing with his direct superior when he bothers to show up for work." It was a mystery how the man was still alive much less with a full time job.

So his friend.

"And I remind you of him?" Peter asks, incredulous. He wasn't exactly any of those things. At least he didn't think so.

“You ask the same questions.” And they likely came from the same place.

"Yeah? He probably thinks the same way I do." Peter doesn't know anything about Hank, but he can only imagine that despite the cluster of issues he's dealing with, he's probably at heart a good person. "Maybe he'll show up and I'll get to meet him."

“I can’t anticipate the chances of that.” And no one else could, either, from what he’d asked. But the thought of seeing the lieutenant again...it was welcome.

“I think he would admire your sense of justice.” It wasn’t like Connor to give such compliments, but it felt like the right thing to say.

Peter smiles at the compliment. "I don't know if you can anticipate the chances, but I was here for about --" Peter does the mental calculations. "-- eight or nine months before someone from my timeline showed up and he knew me but I didn't know him. Then after Quill, a lot of people from my timeline started showing up. Thor, Loki, Tony, Captain America, Bucky, Ned."

His best friend, Ned.

"Maybe you'll get lucky."

One of those names was inconsistent with the rest, but Connor elected not to probe. He said he was a superhero, and Captain America was as classic as it got as far as naming conventions.

"That's good to hear, Peter. Everyone deserves to have friends." Every human, that was. Their social needs were exceptional.

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