deercountry | o1 . january catchall

So it's like episodes of a serial.

[ There it goes again, talking before it realizes it shouldn't. But now it would be awkward to stop here, so Murderbot adds: ]

The kind for kids, where every adventure has a lesson. Except, from the sound of it, this place isn't kid-friendly.

[ It still can't tell whether this human is an adolescent or just small. But they probably don't qualify as a 'kid,' right, if they're here participating in the same social activities as the adults? Human culture is never consistent enough to let it guess. ]

[Pauline smiles at that, cocking her head slightly to one side. 'Serials' must be serial stories, from context, and she supposes fiction isn't an unreasonable lens to approach this new situation through.]

Mm. No. It isn't. [That touches a nerve, one she lets show.] Although since being changed to a woman is always a curse in the stories for children, better luck for me.

[A joke at her own expense. Of course, she hasn't been a child in quite some time, sixteen going on older than stars, but she does remember what the stories are like.]

I suppose to the powers that be here, we are like children. Not prepared to make our own choices, pick our own lessons.

[ Woman. Well, that's one missing piece of information filled in, which is one more little weight of anxiety lifted from its already-overburdened shoulders. ]

Is it? [ It can only remember a few instances when changing between genders constituted a significant plot point, and in most of those it had to do with disguise, or the sorts of scenes Murderbot preferred to fast-forward through.

And then she (statistically likely to be she, anyway; it will take the odds) says Not prepared to make our own choices, and Murderbot visibly tightens. Its gaze is more a glare, now, at its untouched glass of bubbly intoxicant. ] So they keep us like pets.

A curse? Only for men. [A brisk answer, densely packed with meaning she doesn't expect or want to be picked up on, so she brushes past it in favor of a less fraught topic: their shared captivity.] Children. Pets. Something between the two.

[The atmosphere affects Pauline too, as much as she would prefer to not acknowledge it. She rarely outright lies, but she is deliberate about the truths she tells. In this case, she finds herself being generous with it, even as her mouth twists like she bit into an unexpectedly sour fruit.]

We're anthropomorphizing. That's poor analysis.

[Of course she'd be held to intellectual honesty. Irritating.]

[ Murderbot knows about anthropomorphizing. Stupid questions like Don't you hate all humans for doing this to you? are anthropomorphizing. They assume it's as dumb as a human would be.

It's not anthropomorphizing the aliens. They're aliens; they're going to be dumb in their own, impossible-to-imagine, horrifying ways. And still keep them like pets. ]

I've never dealt with aliens before. [ A beat, and it clarifies: ] Not directly, anyway. Just the crap they leave behind.

We've never found true intelligences, or at least none we could communicate with. Or if we did, we wiped them or their relics out before they could be recorded.

[As was observed earlier, drinks make excellent tools for redirecting attention. Pauline sips hers, considering aliens. That is what the Pthumerians are, although not the label she uses most, and that means she should take the time to peer through that neglected lens as well.]

Slight experience is better than none. Were your aliens anything like this?

Edited 2022-01-07 17:08 (UTC)

No experience would be better. Strange synthetics are enough of a clusterfuck, and that's just whatever inert tech they left behind. Bio remnants are 'quarantine the entire system' bad.

[ Guess which one Murderbot has the most experience with. Guess. ]

I've only ever seen ideas of what they look like on serials. [ A beat. ] They probably didn't look like squids.

[Pauline isn't superstitious, even if much of her behavior in Trench might suggest it. Healthy preventative paranoia about the urges and foibles of gods is not the same thing.

This, too, is not superstition, the way her left hand makes a slight warding gesture at the mention of synthetics, a flash of the propriative eye in the crooking of her fingers.]

I have wondered, [she looks up at the ceiling, her thoughts well beyond it] if that's why this world is isolated. Of course there's no evidence, except the absence of contact, but...

[That's a significant piece of evidence on its own, isn't it?]

I'm not helping you have a much better time here, am I?

Edited (phone tags :() 2022-01-07 17:37 (UTC)

[ The human does a gesture. Murderbot honestly doesn't recognize it, and decides not to care. Humans make a lot of odd gestures a lot of the time, and it's usually for something pointless, like religion. ]

It's fine.

[ It says this without meaning to, and finds that it's basically true. ]

You haven't tried to make me dance, so you can stay.

[ So you can live is the joke it wants to make, that for some reason humans don't like hearing from a murderbot. Who knew. ]

I wouldn't dare try to make you do anything.

[It's a joke, of course, but it's also imbued with an assurance underneath the little smile it comes paired to. Speaking of not speculating on unknown motives, she's not going to necessarily assume that Rin's distaste for the concept of being kept stems from any particular source, but it doesn't hurt to err on the side of sympathy.]

What would make you feel more at ease?

[There's also no harm in being obvious about wanting to be helpful. It's a tactic that's had a surprising rate of success here.]

[ She says it so seriously that Murderbot tightens its grip on its very fragile drink. It doesn't say Good. It doesn't say Shut the fuck up, I wouldn't let you. It definitely doesn't say You wouldn't say that if you knew I'm not human.

To the question, it answers automatically: ]

It would help if I knew what people expect of me here.

[ There is a beat in which it realizes this is kind of an embarrassing answer, and amends: ]

Other than dancing, which I acknowledge and refuse.

[Pauline doesn't seem to think that's an embarrassing answer at all. Her dark eyes soften with empathy, and she nods. Being trapped, not knowing what to do. Who doesn't hate these things? Who doesn't search for a purpose, and the freedom to enact it?]

It's not well-defined, is it? [She surveys the disorganized revel.] I wish I could tell you, but I'm not sure myself. I can say that if anyone gives you trouble for sitting here, not dancing, send them to me. I'm an excellent dancer.

You haven't been to many of these, have you?

[A forward question, but she thinks on balance less rude than simply assuming.]

Only as security. [ This is a little more honest than it was hoping for, and the discontent shows briefly in its expression, though at least it could be read as a complaint about the job. (It is definitely also a complaint about the job.) ] They didn't exactly serve me drinks.

[ And thank every made-up human deity for that. ]

[So Rin is a guard of some type, which makes a great deal of sense. Pauline contemplates her own drink and its golden bubbles.]

That wouldn't be very secure, I agree. [That's how you end up with poisoned guards, for one thing.] I've only been a host, or a guest. It's a different perspective. This must all seem terribly unsafe.

[ My risk assessment module is a piece of garbage, it does not say, but even it knows this is a security nightmare.

What it does say is: ]

It mostly feels like an unknown. I haven't been here long enough to figure out the threats. [ Another flicker of discontent, at that, exasperated at the concept. ] Which is my least favorite part of being on a planet.

Mine too.

[Pauline smiles with her eyes flat above it, her hand coming up to toy with the ends of her hair again. At least someone else takes this seriously.]

It's a port city. That's the best way to think of it. A certain amount of miscommunication is expected, so you have some behavioral latitude to work with. If something goes wrong, blame it on a cultural misunderstanding, and you should be all right. If anyone takes it farther than words, there's a very high tolerance for retaliatory violence.

[She sounds like her mother, to her own mild, wistful annoyance.]

[ That is... actually decent advice. It can't decide whether the human speaking so openly about retaliatory violence is helpful or just kind of worrying. For a moment, Murderbot blinks up at its new human companion, and seems to really be seeing her for the first time.

Then it drops eye contact again, to its untouched drink, and nods. ]

Okay. [ And, because conversation seems to demand something else of it: ] I'm guessing you travel a lot.

[The recognition is enough to make Pauline want to preen, but she contents herself with dropping her hand back to her lap and pressing her thumbprint to the hawk on her ring.]

Only twice. Three times now, I suppose. Between planets, at least. Space travel is expensive - though I understand that's not the case for some universes. It's more that I've had excellent teachers.

[Rin is still uncomfortable, and Pauline is coming around to the idea that it's unlikely they will be comfortable in this context. But the way they at least paid attention when she showed a flicker of intelligence gives her an idea.]

Are you going to the talent show?

[ "Rin" looks up at her, openly baffled at the idea. ]

No. I don't have a talent worth showing.

I don't believe that for an instant. But no, that's not what I meant.

[Pauline shakes her head, smiling amusedly.]

I'm going to perform. If you say you'll come watch, I'll show you a trick. Does that sound fair?

[ There is a beat in which Murderbot considers. That sounds... honestly kind of ominous, which is almost definitely it reading too much into things. And this corner has been fine so far for avoiding the crowds; there's no telling what might happen if it joins the throng around the stage.

But it's not like it's doing anything else. ]

Sure. I'll come watch.

[Pauline clasps her hands together and brings them to her chest in exaggerated delight, eyes sparking playfully.]

Thank you! Now, I'll show you the trick. May I have your drink?

[She extends a hand.]

[ Murderbot goes instantly on alert.

So much for having one single not-unpleasant interaction at this gathering. The human is definitely going to end the trick by making Murderbot consume the bubbly intoxicant, which will be horrible. It'll have to section off part of a lung to store the liquid in, and find somewhere to expel it later.

But it can't very well stop her now, so it controls its expression back into neutrality and hands the glass over. ]

[Pauline accepts the glass, smiling still, as if she notices nothing out of the ordinary. Her pupils don't even dilate, which is a tell so subtle that almost no one would notice it.]

If you want to not drink at a party without being noticed [she says, picking up her own glass and pouring from Rin's into it until their glass is only two-thirds full] you should never have a full glass, or an empty one. A full glass is conspicuous, and an empty glass invites offers of more. Halfway to two-thirds is unremarkable.

[She offers their glass back to them, expression more serious, without teasing.]

It's none of my concern why you aren't, but if you don't want people to ask you about it, that's the trick.

[ Oh.

Murderbot struggles, for a second, between the kneejerk I didn't ask and Is it really that obvious? and Why are there so many fucking rules. The last probably shows on its face, though, caught-out to exasperated as it accepts the glass again. ]

Okay.

[ It should say thank you, but it's not really in the mood. So it just shifts its grip on the drink and nods towards the stage. ]

So. What's your talent?

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cw: body horror mention

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