Following A Lunch

[st_abilitylost]

Connor stared at the swinging doors leading to the diner and through the ocular conjoined windows where glossy red stools and patches of sunlight were visible through. Contemplating a decision mid-execution wasn't something he usually did. Routes were planned in advance and adjusted on the fly based on new information, but he'd run across no one since his first morning at the inn. Instead, he was stuck in a self-defeating loop. All attempts to communicate with Cyberlife or even access the world wide net were unsuccessful each and every time. Even entering stasis resulted in nothing--Amanda wasn't even present in the virtual garden. Connor had opened his eyes to his designated room of pastels from a lifeless, frozen hellscape and felt no better for it. But while he still functioned, he could still investigate on foot. Gather testimonials. Seek other residents for advice.

Really, that was the only thing left.

Finally passing through the threshold, Connor took a quick stock of the diner and deemed it no different from any other--no hidden cameras or bugs. At the sight of the first body--a cook and presumably a human (though he'd learned not to assume)--Connor approached the counter. "Hello."

Comments

[st_abilitylost]

"'The island'...Hawaii?" Connor glanced to the side as a waiter brought out an order of eggs and hashbrowns to someone further back.

[st_illkindalost]

Hurley leans over the counter.

"You ever hear about Oceanic Flight 815?"

[st_abilitylost]

"No. There's no airline by that name in my world, to my knowledge." Connor mirrored Hurley's body language, leaning in on his elbows.

[st_illkindalost]

"Basically it crashed in the Pacific. A bunch of us survived. We were there for about three months before I wound up here."

Hurley straightens, picks up his glass, still full of ice, and fills the glass with water.

[st_abilitylost]

"Most who experience a plane crash survive, thanks to the marvels of engineering. Still, that's quite a harrowing experience. I'm surprised no one traced your group within a week." Connor tilted his head slightly. Hurley seemed like he came from roughly the same sort of world that he did.

[st_illkindalost]

"Yeah, well, this was a weird island." Hurley takes a long sip of his cool water. "There was this smoke monster and this other paranormal stuff and there were these people called The Others and the Dharma Initiative with all these weird bases all over the island."

For a second, it looks as though that might be the end of it, but then Hurley continues: "And there was this French chick, Rousseaux, who was there for like 20 years and some guy stole her baby before all of the people on her plane died. A lot of stuff crashed on the island. Boats and hot air balloons and planes and stuff."

[st_abilitylost]

Halfway through Hurley's exposition, Connor's LED began blinking yellow as he tried to keep up. Going from point A to Z repeatedly was stretching his pattern recognition capacities to their limits.

"That..." The sympathetic approach? "Sounds tragic."

[st_illkindalost]

"We found her," he says, "But then she died." Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Hurley shifts where he stands, and eyes Connor with that same curious look he gave him when he first told him he was an android.

"Do you need to be plugged in?" he asks, thinking of the island and its lack of electricity -- at least outside of the creepy Dharma facilities and the Other encampment. "Or are you solar powered or something?"

[st_abilitylost]

"I have an internal power supply that will last one-hundred and thirty-seven years. No external charge needed." That did bring an unsettling prospect to mind--assuming time flowed as normal within their pocket dimension, Connor did have a time limit on escape. A longer-than-average time limit, but a limit. At home, there were numerous ways to avoid the limit so it never factored into his decision making.

"Pardon me for asking, but you're human, correct?"

[st_illkindalost]

"Yeah," Hurley says. "Just an ordinary guy."

[st_abilitylost]

"Statistically speaking, thus far, you seem to be the outlier. I've met a god and an alien, but not an 'ordinary' human." Connor mused.

[st_illkindalost]

"You got ordinary humans back home?" he asks. "Or are people enhanced with, like, cybernetic eyes and have telekinesis and stuff?"

[st_abilitylost]

"Society is human driven with androids composing a significant portion of the work force. Manual labor, domestic staff, shop assistance, medical staff, teaching and instruction, mechanics, unarmed law enforcement such as myself...and so on. Cybernetic enhancement isn't unheard of, though it's extraordinarily costly." Based on Hurley's remarks, he likely came from a world that resembled pre-android society...aside from the supernatural happenstance.

[st_illkindalost]

"Do people not get..." Hurley's brows furrow, like twin fuzzy caterpillars twisting upwards. "...bored?"

[st_abilitylost]

"Taking into account the amount of human labor that androids have displaced, I would say 'disenfranchised' and all the civil unrest that comes with it is a better descriptor." Connor straightened his tie as he spoke, averting his eyes towards the kitchen staff. The topic wasn't a pleasant reminder of the fever pitch that civil unrest was reaching in his own wake, but he could do nothing but be honest with this human's queries.

"My current mission relates to quelling those fears humans have."

[st_illkindalost]

Hurley hmms at that.

"What's your mission? You still doin' it here?" Hurley can't imagine Connor will have an easy time quelling fears. People here had all sorts of hangups.

[st_abilitylost]

"I assist in criminal investigations involving other androids. While operating outside my precinct's jurisdiction and no way to communicate with my handlers, I'm afraid working to fulfill this mission is currently impossible." If not for Loki's assurance he wasn't actually missing out on any work, Connor would be far more tireless than he was. That likely went for the rest of the residents as well.

"I'm sorry I can't be a patron with regards to your role." He quickly switched the subject. "I'm sure you're a very qualified cook."

[st_illkindalost]

"I'm not bad," Hurley says and he leaves it at that. He's never been really good about talking positive about himself, even though his psychologist back when he was in the hospital was always trying to get him to do things like write lists of things he liked about himself. "I am gonna have a much easier time finding work cooking than you're going to find investigating androids. There's only one other android here and she's really nice. She works here sometimes."

[st_abilitylost]

"Mia...correct?" There was a vague listlessness to Connor's gaze that sharpened the moment another android was brought up. "Is she working today?"

[st_illkindalost]

"Yeah, Mia. She's not in right now but she might be working later. We don't really have a schedule. People just show up and work when they're free." True enough, most people tended to come in on the same days and hours each week out of habit, but there was no guarantee that just because someone worked the same time/day last week that they'd do the same now.

[st_abilitylost]

"Perhaps I'll hang around for a little while. Would that be permissible?" Not just to meet this android, but reserving energy while observing the inn's patterns seemed like a good plan while he got his bearings.

[st_illkindalost]

Hurley downs the rest of his water.

"Sure," he says. "I need to get some cleaning done in the back. You gonna be okay here by yourself?"

[st_abilitylost]

"Barring any extraordinary circumstances." Though Connor said it in his usual straightforward manner, there was a questioning lilt--he didn't know what was usual and what wasn't, yet.

[st_illkindalost]

"I'll be back there if you need anything," Hurley says, thumbing the swinging door to his right. "Just come on back. I probably won't hear you if you call for me." That, Hurley had learned from experience; it was part of why he came out every few minutes just to make sure no one was waiting for him.

"Nice meeting you."

And with that, Hurley lumbers back into the kitchens.

[st_abilitylost]

"Thank you." Folding his hands, Connor merely sat quietly. Assuming what everyone said was true--and there had been no evidence to say otherwise--then he was doing much the same back in Detroit. There was a temptation to enter stasis, but it was nothing but a time sink without Amanda to consult. Another impulse was telling him to return his feeble search for the Lieutenant just to cling to some sense of direction.

No, the only thing left to do at that moment was sit. Think. Wait. Watch.