Questionable Conception
Aug 26, 2017 14:50:20 GMT -6
Bonnie Blue, L Verez {L-7}, and 2 more like this
Post by M.A.X on Aug 26, 2017 14:50:20 GMT -6
[Area 51 Security Feed from the 22nd of August, Gamma Quadrant, Corridor 56, 15:36]
The feed shows a sterile, white corridor; yellow, glowing dotted paths showing what way to take during any emergency. The few visible doors are labeled only with numbers and hazard signs, one with the trefoil of ionizing radiation, the next with the three crescent moons of a biohazardous compound, on the third door, barely visible from the angle of the camera, both symbols are represented, as well as every other known hazard symbol, what exactly may be held there, one had best not imagine
However -what draws the eyes much more than the possibility of a lack of cubed, boiled potatoes in mayonnaise- is the 6’3 android coming around a corner and grabbing a man in orange, walking on his lonesome, by the collar, lifting him up and slamming him into the wall.
The feed shows a sterile, white corridor; yellow, glowing dotted paths showing what way to take during any emergency. The few visible doors are labeled only with numbers and hazard signs, one with the trefoil of ionizing radiation, the next with the three crescent moons of a biohazardous compound, on the third door, barely visible from the angle of the camera, both symbols are represented, as well as every other known hazard symbol, what exactly may be held there, one had best not imagine
However -what draws the eyes much more than the possibility of a lack of cubed, boiled potatoes in mayonnaise- is the 6’3 android coming around a corner and grabbing a man in orange, walking on his lonesome, by the collar, lifting him up and slamming him into the wall.
MAX: An “Off” button!? You put a blasted “Off” button in my head!?
Engineer, Codename-Beta: W-what?
MAX: An “Off” button! Inside my head! Did you even see my match? That fucking nympho turned off my entire body with a single kick, and I know what to know whose bright idea it was to put it there, Betsy.
Beta: I-i think the reasoning behind the inclusion of a manual shutdown switch was the fact that in the event that you went rogue you could disconnect from the grid, if that happened we would still have a way to shut you down.
MAX: A way that would have required a person to get close enough to give me a bump on the head without me killing them?
Beta: Well, the system malfunctioned in your match, in actuality you were supposed to have to remove your synth-skin first and then flip the switch…
MAX’s face starts twitching, the minute servo-motors unsure how to convey the indescribable rage starting to well up inside him.
MAX: Ever better, this person would have had to fuck about with my head for a few seconds, again without me killing them. Who fucking designed this!?
Beta: S-safety measures like that were nailed down by the emergency shutdown committee.
MAX: Wait, “committee”? Please don’t tell me I was designed by a fucking committee!
Beta: Oh no, of course not!
MAX: Oh praise Sata-
Beta: You were designed by several committees, I think it was 17 in total- Uh Max, are you feeling alright?
It certainly doesn’t look like it, the twitching spreads from his face to every other joint in his body, his shaking hands drop Beta as his voicebox alternates between short exclamations of laughter to horrible, screeching noises sounding like poor imitations of sobbing.
Beta reaches over and pushes a small button on his collar.
Beta: S-security, get over here; I think he’s malfunctioning!
As black-clad security rushes around the corner, M.A.X lets out an earsplitting howl of existential despair and collapses, his body going from twitching to totally limp.
[Area 51 Security Feed from the 22nd of August, Alpha Quadrant, Isolation Chamber 3, 23:44]
The room is odd; the walls egg shaped to avoid any corners or sharp angles. There aren’t any light fixtures, instead the jelly-esque walls themselves glow a light green. In the center of the room; on a round, gelatinous “bed”, lies M.A.X in the fetal position, his body still lightly convulsing, wracked with mechanical sobs.
A piece off wall melts away, revealing an open doorway and white-clad staff member walks in, rapping his knuckles against the door frame to simulate knocking.
Sigma: Knock knock~ you alright in here?
The man receives no response other than a pitiful whimper and the sight of the huge robot curling even tighter into himself.
Sigma: Jesus, Max; what happened?
Another couple of whines flow out of the voicebox, among them a single word “committees”.
Sigma: Max, what are you saying, what committees?
MAX turns to look into the visored face, if his body had the capacity to generate tears, his “eyes” would probably have been shining with them.
MAX: Ziggy, was I designed by committees!?
Sigma: Oh... is that all this is about?
An angry scowl ghosts over MAXs synthetic face at the mans words.
MAX: If you learned that you had been designed by the single least effectual construct of our modern, capitalist culture, a corporate committee? Worse! Not just one committee, SEVENTEEN COMMITTEES!
Sigma: ...Holy shit, you poor thing!
Sigma leans in and hugs the tall, murderous machine, which curls into the comforting contact.
Sigma: You know… I was the lead developer on the MAX project, I had the final say every feature that went into your design, the committees got to pretend they were making decisions, but really they were only making suggestions…
MAX: S-so I was actually not designed by committees, I-i was designed by you?
Sigma: Well, your body was-
MAX: OH GOD; MY BRAIN WAS DESIGNED BY THEM!?
Sigma: Oh nonono, your brain was designed by me too, but your identity, the SOFTWARE was designed by a colleague, he’s… not around anymore, went by Alpha.
MAX: Oh thank Satan, being created by a mysterious man that you probably killed with a deadly dose of plutonium is at least something, just please tell me he was smart…
Sigma: They played the entire staff in chess at once and beat everyone but me, and I caught him with a cheap trick for a draw.
MAX: Oh… and you’re smart enough to work here and design this body so-
Sigma: Max, my lowest ever IQ test score is 223, you were designed by the smartest people in their respective disciplines; hell, even the committees weren’t totally worthless, although they did force me to make some very questionable inclusions, but I’ll get those things sorted before your next match, don’t worry about it.
MAX: Thanks, Ziggy.
Sigma: Please, call me “Dad”
MAX: …
Sigma: Okay, yeah we’re not there yet...
