Who: PEOPLE (specific starters and OTA) When: Oct 15th-20th Where: The Patrick Moira What: A big bad catch-all for pre-event and beyond Warnings: Update if needed
The gem looks around at him with mild surprise, like she hadn't expected anyone to actually engage her in the middle of one of her little rants. How curious...
"Correct," says Peridot, straightening up and adjusting her visor; she'd been groping around on the floor for some garbage that had fallen down there. "I am an inorganic being; replenishing energy is not a concern for me." On this point, she scowls around at the detritus left over from the previous meal time, looking highly resentful. "Which is what makes it all the more ridiculous that I am required to take part in these 'mess hall duties'."
"Nothing at all? You don't even like...I dunno, need to sit out in the sun or anything?" Like a plant. "So uhm. Weird question, but....if you're an inorganic being...what are you made of?"
He squints at her, turning the fruit over in one hand absently.
She can't be offended by that question really, because at the time she was pulled onto the Moira from, she hadn't had the privilege of having Steven so eloquently explain exactly what a robot is.
So now the job falls to Ratchet. Congrats buddy.
Peridot stares. Blinks. Squints. "What's a robot?"
Well that pretty much answered his question...or at least he thought it did until he remembered the hand conversation. Ratchet makes a face at her response.
"Robots are like....you know," he hesitates, making a vague gesture, unsure what the exact definition would be. "Everything that not's an organic being, so uh...no, wait. That's not true. Uhm, I guess they're...people. People who are...usually made, of metal. Although...I mean, I guess a robot could be made of just about anything... But they don't need to eat or sleep, like you!"
He gives her an expectant look, waiting to see if his crystal clear definition was ringing a bell.
"Hmmm." She considers that description for a moment, not sure how to respond.
"To answer your initial question: No. I am not an organic being. And I'm made from this," she explains very matter-of-factly, pointing to the gem set in her forehead. There's a touch of impatience there too; it's obvious she's had to explain this many more times than she ever anticipated.
"This body is simply a construct of hard light that I project for the sake of interacting more efficiently with the physical world. I'm not sure if that matches your definition of these "robots"," air quotes, "or not."
"I guess not," Ratchet replies, with a heavy dose of uncertainty. He might not be able to quite define a robot in a satisfactory and politically correct way, but she definitely wasn't one. He stares at the gemstone in her forehead that she'd pointed at, silent for a long moment.
"I'm a Gem," she corrects, tone briefly stern. Which might sound like semantics, but hopefully he picks up on the fact that that's the actual proper name for her race. "A Peridot, to be more precise. There are other types, of course... Quartzes, Pearls..." Peridot makes a vague gesture as if to say 'the list goes on,' and then snorts, like she's laughing at a joke she just made. "I mean Pearls don't really count, but, just for the sake of example..."
"A gem," Ratchet repeats the word back to her slowly. It did seem like semantics to him, but if that was what she preferred, then that was fine. "So, you're a Peridot. And your...name is Peridot." He gives her a very serious look. "What do you do if there's like, a bunch of Peridots in one room?"
"Well, that just wouldn't happen," she explains, matter-of-factly, and with just a touch of impatience underlying her tone. "We're all divvied up and assigned to certain jobs right from the moment we emerge; it wouldn't make sense to just, cram all the engineers into one spot." Peridot allows herself a chuckle at the thought. "That would be idiotic, and, not to mention, inefficient."
"Alright that makes sense. Sort of." He can't help but raise his eyebrows at the bit about divvying people up, although he keeps his questions about it to himself. There were some things you just didn't ask. There are still a thousand other questions running through his head. Even though Polaris was diverse, and Ratchet was used to a wide variety of people and species, beings that weren't even made out of matter were definitely not common.
"So...what's it like being made of...what did you say? Light? Can you, you know, touch and feel things? Can you get hurt?" He looks at the fruit still in his hand, almost forgotten. "You don't need to eat, but can you?"
Of course she can feel things, Ratchet. She has touch stumps, remember?
She opens her mouth a few times, like a fish out of water, a little overwhelmed by all of those questions coming at her at once and the need she feels to answer every single one. She looks pretty irritated by the time he's finished talking.
"I mean, could, if I wanted to waste time and effort morphing a digestive tract," Peridot scoffs with a dismissive gesture of one hand, "but why would I want to subject myself to that? I enjoy not having to consume and expel waste three times a day, thanks. Especially after seeing the time and energy you organics have to expend on everything to do with it."
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"Correct," says Peridot, straightening up and adjusting her visor; she'd been groping around on the floor for some garbage that had fallen down there. "I am an inorganic being; replenishing energy is not a concern for me." On this point, she scowls around at the detritus left over from the previous meal time, looking highly resentful. "Which is what makes it all the more ridiculous that I am required to take part in these 'mess hall duties'."
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He squints at her, turning the fruit over in one hand absently.
"Are you a robot...."
boomerangs you like an asshole
So now the job falls to Ratchet. Congrats buddy.
Peridot stares. Blinks. Squints. "What's a robot?"
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"Robots are like....you know," he hesitates, making a vague gesture, unsure what the exact definition would be. "Everything that not's an organic being, so uh...no, wait. That's not true. Uhm, I guess they're...people. People who are...usually made, of metal. Although...I mean, I guess a robot could be made of just about anything... But they don't need to eat or sleep, like you!"
He gives her an expectant look, waiting to see if his crystal clear definition was ringing a bell.
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"To answer your initial question: No. I am not an organic being. And I'm made from this," she explains very matter-of-factly, pointing to the gem set in her forehead. There's a touch of impatience there too; it's obvious she's had to explain this many more times than she ever anticipated.
"This body is simply a construct of hard light that I project for the sake of interacting more efficiently with the physical world. I'm not sure if that matches your definition of these "robots"," air quotes, "or not."
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"So you're....a rock."
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It's a really important question.
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"So...what's it like being made of...what did you say? Light? Can you, you know, touch and feel things? Can you get hurt?" He looks at the fruit still in his hand, almost forgotten. "You don't need to eat, but can you?"
no subject
She opens her mouth a few times, like a fish out of water, a little overwhelmed by all of those questions coming at her at once and the need she feels to answer every single one. She looks pretty irritated by the time he's finished talking.
"I mean, could, if I wanted to waste time and effort morphing a digestive tract," Peridot scoffs with a dismissive gesture of one hand, "but why would I want to subject myself to that? I enjoy not having to consume and expel waste three times a day, thanks. Especially after seeing the time and energy you organics have to expend on everything to do with it."