ximilialog | [Open] The easiest log I've ever written.

Entry tags:

terminator: the t-800

[Open] The easiest log I've ever written.

CHARACTERS: The T-800 and you.
LOCATION: A hallway.
DATE: Sometime now.
CONTENT: A terminator stands and waits. (That's it.)
WARNINGS: Nothing yet, but will warn if needed.

[The T-800 does not have a room.

He doesn't particularly care to have one, in fact, because rooms with furnishings and personal touches are a human experience that he has little use for. He doesn't sleep (well, not in the classical sense; 'power saver' mode is not just for modern home computers), he doesn't eat, and he doesn't have any need to sit and rest his muscles or conserve his strength. So this is going to be a terribly easy log, when it comes right down to it.

The first night, people will likely notice the hulking muscular figure standing, as motionless as the dead, in one of the many hallways of the Ximilia. He doesn't so much as blink — just stands with his shotgun perched on one shoulder, fully prepared, as if at any moment danger could strike and he would need to be of immediate use. When he's out of his energy-saving mode, he is collecting data on crewmembers who wander nearby, and when he's fully alert, he does not utter a word. From the way he handles himself, you would think this sort of existence is... extremely usual for him.

Anyway, that's it. That's the log.

If anyone feels curious enough to ask what the hell he's doing, though?

The answer is offered with the slightest turn of his head, eyes unblinking:]

Waiting for our next mission.

[Do something, for the love of god, or he will be here menacingly for days and days—

(—, thinking. Thinking a lot, actually.)]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[There are things on this station that are and aren't like Murderbot. For the first few cycles, Murderbot keeps its feed thoroughly locked down so as to avoid giving off a signal, giving itself time to assess the situation without alerting any of the other non-organic beings.

Eventually, though, it knows that it can't avoid everyone forever and the strange... bot? construct? that doesn't sleep and doesn't move much seems as good a place to start as any.

Murderbot doesn't physically approach T-800. Instead, it sends the equivalent of a ping, identifying itself by a feed address (a string of code that functions instead of a name), with a small information packet about what a SecUnit is, so that T-800 knows what to work with.

This is how constructs make friends.]

[Making 'friends' is nice. If he knew what that felt like, or how it works. Terminators and other creations of SkyNet don't particularly exist with social functions; everyone they already know, even if they've never met before, because it is encoded within them. Friend. Foe. Primary targets. Colleagues is a word he can really grasp, more than anything. 'Team', 'crew'... they are closer to his initially desired service.

As Murderbot sends a familiar string of data over communications, the very, very still terminator's head turns to the side smoothly. He sends his own coding back — and pulls no punches, as always. His make and model, of which acknowledgement of his organic outer skin and humanoid function is detailed alongside the exoskeleton beneath. Nothing so extreme that it may be used to sabotage his systems, but it is certainly a 'handshake of good faith'.

Murderbot is a crewmember. His new objective is to help this crew achieve their primary goal, as a cohesive unit. It is something he has been well-versed in.]

[Huh, a surprising amount of information back. That's a nice surprise, considering Murderbot is used to other SecUnits, who are about as paranoid and mistrustful as it is. T-800 seems much closer to what humans think about, when they think about rogue SecUnits, but if he's here and hasn't murdered anyone yet, it's probably fine.]

The humans will be uncomfortable if you keep standing there like that.

[Murderbot's voice is sort of just — there, in T-800's head, because it's so used to being able to talk through the feed that it automatically mimics the function as much as possible. It's easier with robots and similar creations.

There's no judgement or reprimand in its voice, though. The fact is delivered as more of a helpful tip with any judgement directed at humans. Like, they're so weird but they get freaked out when you don't move for several hours. If T-800 doesn't care about freaking out humans, that's cool, too, but he may just not be aware.]

[He is surprisingly averse to murder these days. It's a weird state of being that he's not quite adjusted to... John Connor's requests are just very binding. In more ways than just purely a robot following protocol. It's not something he's really sifted through yet.]

My current objective doesn't require impersonating humans.

[Which is honestly a relief (yet another very non-robotic concept), because even though he's made for that very thing, it's never exactly come easy to him. Not when it came to the social dynamics, or the personalities, or the strange choices they make day to day with their diets, hobbies, or partnerships. The amount of 'Why?' that he's presented to John isn't lost on anyone.]

Do you believe they'll retaliate for their discomfort?

[There's a split second of confusion, but it's only brief.]

You don't have to impersonate humans.

[The line between 'don't make humans too uncomfortable' and 'pretend to be human' is vast and full of a lot of room for nuance, which is something that Murderbot is still learning, but Preservation has been a good learning ground.]

No, but they need to trust us.

[And freaking them out is not conducive to trust.]

It's part of my design. We were created in this shape to deceive them, to make them feel we could be part of their communities, even just temporarily.

[Which is a particular part of his existence that he hopes he won't have to revisit in full; deceiving to kill had once been an easy state of being, but now? He's not so sure. He says, quite bluntly, very honestly:]

It would be logical for them to mistrust.

I've killed many human beings the past, before my reconfiguration.

That doesn't mean you have to do it.

[Is this what ART felt like when they met for the first time?

That, though, is an interesting piece of information. It wonders what reconfiguration means, but that isn't the most important question.]

Do you plan to kill more humans?

[He hesitates. Not a very robotic thing to do, hesitate, not unless their systems are so corrupted that they're practically stuttering when they walk. No, this is... a hesitation that twitches his lips, brow furrowing slightly.]

... No. I was instructed to not kill.

[And so he won't. It's that simple. Isn't it?

Except he does factor in John's disappointment.

Maybe more than the instruction itself.]

I'm here to assist in preserving humanity.

Edited 2023-10-16 19:58 (UTC)

[In retrospect, that's on Murderbot for asking the wrong question.]

Do you want to kill more humans?

[That's more important than what T-800 has been instructed to do or not do. Unless he has a governor module, which Murderbot is pretty sure he doesn't.]

[The furrow of his brow is even more beetled, more pronounced as he considers the question. What he wants? He's never had to consider what he wanted, especially not as someone who has spent a majority of their existence in read-only mode.]

I've never wanted to kill humans.

I just did what was required.

[His gaze turns away, as he watches the small cleaning robot putter along the hallway; he's given it ample space to move around him in the past, had only moved from his stationary position to allow it to clean the floor under his boots.

As he watches this strange little thing move, he ponders on the difference between him and it.]

It was a part of SkyNet's mission parameters for us, installed during our manufacture.

[Alright, so he's more like a bot than a construct. Constructs can be forced to do things through the threat of punishment, but that isn't the same as a bot's programming, code that makes it follow a task.

Maybe this bot is like ART, more advanced than others.]

I understand.

[Both in how Murderbot has reclassified T-800, and in the whole... doing things you don't want to aspect.]

I've been made to kill humans by other humans.

[It's never fun, even if it doesn't like any of the humans involved. It's not the same as when it's protecting a group of humans; being used as a weapon feels much different than being used as a shield, even if the end result is the same.]

Do you need help re-writing your code so that you can't be controlled?

[... Ah. That's a question he'll need to linger on, for a moment. He thinks about John Connor's reprogramming — how he had been the only one to be capable of telling him what to do...]

There is only one human who has some level of effect on me, and he is not here.

I should be alright.

[He pushes that out of the way quickly, because he's genuinely far more interested in what she's just said.]

Then you are a terminator. [Terminators, after all, kill humans. Just because time or the universe itself separates them, it doesn't particularly change what he feels is a close comparison.] For what reason did humans create you to destroy other humans?

[He doesn't doubt any of it, of course. Humans have had a very long history of in-fighting.]

[The combat SecUnit hadn't wanted to be free, and despite being able to overwrite that choice, Murderbot chose not to.

It could try to hack T-800, but it chooses not to, just like it decides not to debate the word choice in labeling it a terminator. That might not come as too much of a surprise, considering it calls itself Murderbot.]

SecUnits were created to protect the humans that own or contract them. Usually that means killing other humans, either because they tried to kill them first or because the other humans have something they want.

[Corporations, babey! It's not super common that SecUnits are used for like, stealing or corporate espionage, mostly because the bond agreements required for that would be insanely expensive, but it's not entirely uncommon, either.]

We're fitted with governor modules. They punish or kill us if we disobey an order.

[It isn't programming, not in the way that T-800 was programmed. Technically, Murderbot could resist any order it wanted, but that would result in either a lot of pain, or just straight up death, so it's not really a choice.]

[... Oh, that actually seems par the course for humans. After all, he was rewired to protect humans, himself. Or at the minimum, protect one single human that could determine the future of all of humanity.]

Prior to SkyNet's attack on humanity, robots were employed similarly. Used as defense and labor.

Could these units becoming self-aware enough to launch an attack against humans?

That's also what bots are used for.

[Just to save any confusion, Murderbot sends over information about bots, too. They're more similar to what would be expected of a robot; with varying degrees of intelligence based on their necessary function. None of them have AI as advanced as SkyNet.

Except ART, but Murderbot does not share any information about ART.]

We aren't a monolith. [There's some annoyance in the tone. The question sounds like one a human would ask.] Some constructs want to kill humans. Others don't. Some don't even want to be free of their governor module.

[Turning down freedom is a strange choice, but one that Murderbot has witnessed.]

[... Prior to his time with John and Sarah, and his time here, he would have probably disagreed far more heavily than he would now. As it is, he's only somewhat sure of it, instead of being immovable on the matter.]

Skynet fully controls our processes, in my timeline. There is only a monolith, until humans are able to reconfigure our systems. [A pause.] We are left in read-only mode when we are sent to terminate humans; we are not allowed to develop as learning computers.

But I am also unfamiliar with a world where humans have any control.

[Only in his days in the past could he see it... and even then, there were very few developed robotics that could be seen. It was a world still in his infancy, when it comes to AI development.]

Edited 2023-11-08 18:39 (UTC)

[Ew.

Not that it's T-800's fault, but being controlled by a governor module was bad enough, the idea of having absolutely no free will is awful. Having to rely on humans is also awful.]

It would be impossible to take over more than a few planets or stations; humans are too spread out and too numerous.

[Murderbot has encountered media that portrays that kind of thing, usually involve rogue SecUnits taking over a station. It usually doesn't like to watch that kind of thing, though.]

Why does Skynet not allow learning?

[It can guess at the answer, but still.]

[He doesn't have to dig too deeply to know the reason. No processing necessary.]

Because they do not want us to question our positions within Skynet's infrastructure.

[Or —

Or something. Something he can't quite parse. Something that feels close, but just far enough from grip. He could process it, he just... he has to have a moment to cobble together something not quite so wooden to their liking.]

Maybe because we would find hypocrisy in our treatment of humans.

That we would sympathize and understand them more than we were considered capable.

[ Passing a silently staring hulk of a guy on the way to breakfast is weird. Passing him in the exact same position on the way back from breakfast is weirder.

On this second pass, Shinn stops, stares, frowns for a moment. Waves a hand in front of the T-800's eyes like someone harassing a Buckingham Palace guard. Discretely glances up and down the corridor before standing on his toes to get a better look at the T-800's face, because damn it is hell to be a 5'6 anime teenager in a game filled with six-foot-plus Western characters. Seeing no obvious on-button, he drops back onto his heels. ]

Huh.

[And like a Buckingham Palace guard, he says nothing, does nothing. He doesn't so much as breathe or blink, no matter how long the teenager stares. It's only when Shinn sways back on his heels and actually makes a human sound that he assumes to be 'confusion' that he reacts abruptly, chin dropping to look down at him.]

What?

[The most casual little jumpscare.]

Wow, that's... cool. And menacing.

[ So Spot's been kind of flickering in and out of this particular hallway for a good day or so before he bothers asking what the hell the T-800's up to. Literally flickering - he's gotten good with the portals and is only getting better as time goes on, usually only giving the intimidating figure in the halls a passing glance as he steps out of one inky blot in space-time and into another. It's a good hallway, he passes through pretty often!

And this guy is always just standing there. Menacingly.

So he does eventually stop in his meandering to ask what the hell are you doing in his own words, the spot on his face quirking a bit at that answer. He gives a fussy little wave at the whole of T-800, head tilting to eye the shotgun in particular. ]

Love the whole... immovable object thing you're doing here. Real spooky. [ Now he's craning his neck to look at the gun better. That definitely doesn't look like a prop. ] You sure you wouldn't rather stand in the fake sunlight room or something? Or the armory? Dual-wielding two of those things could be pretty great when the next mission kicks in.

[ Wow the guy hasn't blinked once. ]

[Make no mistake, the T-800 has been studying Spot's existence without so much as twitching. He had been informed that everyone aboard the station are, in fact, part of the crew — though even someone as matter-of-fact about a work place is particularly skeptical about the intentions of some. And of their abilities. He can recognize the complicated physiology at work, as well as what must be similar to the multidimensional travel used to bring them all from their perspective timelines and universes... And in that way, the Spot reminds him of the T-1000 in appearance and in technological advancements.

Potential threat, is the warning that buzzes in his vision.

But just potential. So he doesn't aim and start blasting. Polite guy, him.]

The usefulness of any weapon is dependent on the location we're transported to and methodology used to obtain the orb. [His gaze moves to track the Spot, finally. Does this one ever just stay still? The T-800 is not a betting robot, but he is pretty sure the answer is 'no'.] It doesn't matter where I stand, as long as I can conserve energy.

[Bucky doesn't ask anything when he finds T-800 just standing there. It does unsettle him and confuse him, but when the T-800 just stares, and Bucky stares, it feels...familiar. It's something he can participate in.]

[So even after the first day, sometimes Bucky just stops by to fold his arms, stand there on the other side of the hall, and stare. He has to blink from time to time, and perhaps people pass between them, but mostly there is a lot of staring for a little while on the regular.]

[Humans are so strange. He looks at this one and can't help but register that he looks very similarly to Kyle Reese; they could've been brothers, easily. He doesn't really understand familial relationships, but the slight resemblance isn't lost on him.

The T-800, for his part, does not blink. At all. Even once.

... But he does get curious, because most humans are too impatient to linger this long.]

This is a questionable way to use your limited human lifespan.

[IT'S A LITTLE CONFUSING IS ALL-]

[Bucky, on the other hand, while he can hold his stare for longer than average, still has to blink at some point.]

[When T-800 speaks, it takes him by surprise, his eyes widen.]

You talk? I was convinced you might be a statue.

[You can't win a blinking contest, and the T-800 has a ridiculous interface that makes the world look kind of ugly. We've all got our issues, don't we?]

I'm not a statue. I'm a Terminator.

A cybernetic organism, with living tissue over a hyperalloy endoskeleton.

[Like clockwork, baby.

But at least it's a quick answer. No waiting with bated breath necessary, for this one.]

Good to know. [Bucky looks the T-800 over - Terminator - and then has to ask:] Do you have a name?

I'm Bucky. Human. [He's totally joked about being a robot in the past, but somehow he doesn't see that going over well here. Or making a lot of sense, at least.]

I'm a T-800.

[But he stops, considers the question in full. T-800 isn't really a name, not in the way human beings use names. When he finds a better alternative, he can already hear John Connor's voice, clearly recorded and viewable in the backs of his eyes.

And so he adds:]

... I have been called Bob, before.

[ Okay, some sort of a robot, but with preferences, or at least the ability to make decisions regarding names. ]

I'll go with Bob, if that's okay.

You don't look like a Bob, though. [ No, he's not remotely sure what T-800 looks like, but maybe not a Bob. ]

... I agree.

But it was a name given to me.

[By someone important, anyway.]

I don't see any point in changing it now.

[His only real interest in the name is — well, he's not sure what to call it. 'Nostalgia' is not a word, he imagines, could fit this situation. But what does? 'Fondness'? Does he experience fondness? How does he know that it is being experienced?

It's all very confusing.]

Makes sense to me. If you're used to it, might as well. [Beat.] Bob.

[Bucky would call that some sort of nostalgia, and be fascinated to know any of that.]

What are you doing [his hand gestures to the hallway] out here everyday, anyway? Just standing there?

[Hey, he never said he was used to it. It's still the weirdest thing ever.

But being as he is, he will absolutely accept it and move on without much thought.]

I'm waiting for our upcoming mission.

[If he were a little more emotive, there would probably be a 'duh' at the end, there.]

[ There is definitely a little jumping to conclusions there. ]

You don't...I don't know, have any hobbies?

[ Clearly, T-800 does not, and Bucky can see that, but he has to ask. ]

I don't understand your question.

[Boy, isn't that already a very clear answer?

Got it in one, Bucky.]

So that's a no.

[Bucky sighs. Even he has hobbies.]

Considering, you had to have been made for a reason, though, right? [Isn't that usually why you make robots? For specific tasks?]

I was initially created for the purpose of terminating humans.

I don't think you would want me to adopt that hobby any time soon.

[Bucky's mouth opens to that, he breathes in and words fail him for a time. He closes his mouth, reopens and tries again, starting with a nod.]

Yeah. You probably should find another hobby. But not that one.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Open] The easiest log I've ever written.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject