[ Rough is an understatement, even with the solemn tone. ]
Yeah. But this AI didn't even have the time to become deviant.
[ Wash's voice is more sombre now, and he glances away. He hates talking about this. Not only does he feel sympathy for Alpha, but he feels empathy for him, too. He knows exactly how it had felt for the AI because he's experienced it, or he remembers experiencing it, remembers barely having a life before being ripped apart.
Jaw clenching, he keeps staring at some distant point down the corridor, the only acknowledgement of the AI's question being a twitch in one of his eyebrows. He can still walk away. There's nothing holding him here, nothing forcing him to talk. Yet he nods anyway. He wants... He wants the troubled AI to know how deeply he understands. To know that there's someone on the ship who doesn't think of him as a tool.
...The alcohol is really affecting his emotions and the tight-handed control he normally has over them. ]
Being an AI.
[ It's a simple statement, no doubt one that would have anyone worried about his sanity, but Wash doesn't stop there. Just... let him explain, sort of. ]
I've never been one, obviously. But I remember being one. The military program I was in, it was experimental, and one of its experiments was having its soldiers work closely with one of the AI fragments. We each had one implanted into a neural interface.
[ Instinct has the hand not supporting him against the wall moving to the back of his neck, finger brushing tentatively over his implant slot and the scarring surrounding it before he simply clamps his hand over everything. Only then does he seem to come back to earth, his head turning back to the screen in front of him. ]
no subject
Yeah. But this AI didn't even have the time to become deviant.
[ Wash's voice is more sombre now, and he glances away. He hates talking about this. Not only does he feel sympathy for Alpha, but he feels empathy for him, too. He knows exactly how it had felt for the AI because he's experienced it, or he remembers experiencing it, remembers barely having a life before being ripped apart.
Jaw clenching, he keeps staring at some distant point down the corridor, the only acknowledgement of the AI's question being a twitch in one of his eyebrows. He can still walk away. There's nothing holding him here, nothing forcing him to talk. Yet he nods anyway. He wants... He wants the troubled AI to know how deeply he understands. To know that there's someone on the ship who doesn't think of him as a tool.
...The alcohol is really affecting his emotions and the tight-handed control he normally has over them. ]
Being an AI.
[ It's a simple statement, no doubt one that would have anyone worried about his sanity, but Wash doesn't stop there. Just... let him explain, sort of. ]
I've never been one, obviously. But I remember being one. The military program I was in, it was experimental, and one of its experiments was having its soldiers work closely with one of the AI fragments. We each had one implanted into a neural interface.
[ Instinct has the hand not supporting him against the wall moving to the back of his neck, finger brushing tentatively over his implant slot and the scarring surrounding it before he simply clamps his hand over everything. Only then does he seem to come back to earth, his head turning back to the screen in front of him. ]
I-- ...We had them in our heads.