[ Sometimes the lack of an answer is an answer in itself. He hadn't thought that would be the question that might infringe on boundaries, but true to his word, he leaves it at that; Tech might get an impression of an apologetic acknowledgement and withdrawal. Satisfying his curiosity at the expense of Tech's comfort isn't worth it, not when he's hoping that — this, all of this, can be more than a one-off for them.
Now that he's experienced shared consciousness with someone like him, he doesn't want to lose it. He'd never been allowed to cultivate any sense of kinship with other androids in his home universe — while humans despised him for being what he is, he was also ostracised by his own kind because of what he was ordered to do. Understandably. It's only in Folkmore that he's been able to escape that lonely isolation, that level of prejudice, though even here attitudes toward advanced technology such as robots and AI could sometimes be... Well. He tries to be forgiving of ignorance, even if the same grace wouldn't be extended to him. ]
I was attempting to be diplomatic. You're correct.
If the humans responsible for your existence are anything like those of my home universe— [ What he means could best be illustrated with a memory of where he's from, but for the time being he refrains from sharing one, thinking it probably requires a separate discussion first. But the impulse is discernible enough for Tech to probably pick up on it. ] You deserve better.
I also have to say, regarding you being the sum of the human internet, I'm astounded you're able to hold a coherent conversation. [ Just a touch of dry humour for levity before moving back to more serious topics. ] Healed you back from the brink. How does that work? Does being in proximity to technology — help you? [ Could I help you, in other words.
While they've been digitally conversing, K's gaze has intermittently drifted between his notebook and Tech, and at some point he'd even briefly sketched out a thought in the margin of a page. But the pen has since been set aside and his head is bowed when Tech reaches, physically, to draw his attention back outward. Raising his eyes, he takes in the suggestion in silence. But his expression conveys his feelings quite clearly: the almost stricken, uncertain look, that gradually eases into thoughtful consideration at the same time he hesitantly turns his hand palm-up, finding comfort in the physical contact. Not holding hands, exactly, just touching.
How can he be so utterly transparent to someone he's only known for the duration of a single conversation? There are people who've known him for months who don't have the faintest idea of his conflicted feelings regarding his lack of name. Though, to be fair to them, he doesn't often volunteer much information about himself beyond what he is — and that mainly because his identity as an android has become important to him — preferring to keep the conversational spotlight on others.
Just as Tech is bound by the rules of godhood, K's bound by programmed limitations. Only his recognised handler can name him. Or that's been his understanding, as he hasn't been capable of naming himself, and—... This is the first time anyone else has suggested a name for him, so that method's untested. Is it really as simple as that? Can he just... accept it, keep it? He doesn't actually know (and he's almost afraid to hope, lest it lead to crushing disappointment), but he pushes past the strange tightness in his throat to respond. ]
That's a good name. Too good for something like me. [ This isn't a self-deprecating statement. It's what he was programmed and socialised to believe. ] But... [ His voice softens, as though imparting a secret. ] I do like it. Would it retain its meaning even as a nickname?
[ Because that may be the compromise he'll have to make. And in light of Tech giving him a name, a gesture he's still trying to wrap his head around, the unanswered question resurfaces at the forefront of his mind. But he doesn't press the matter, just wonders if perhaps Tech could likewise accept a (nick)name given to him. If he'd even want one. Though K would have a hard time beating Kei. A god-bestowed blessing that he's determined to keep in whatever capacity he can. ]
no subject
Now that he's experienced shared consciousness with someone like him, he doesn't want to lose it. He'd never been allowed to cultivate any sense of kinship with other androids in his home universe — while humans despised him for being what he is, he was also ostracised by his own kind because of what he was ordered to do. Understandably. It's only in Folkmore that he's been able to escape that lonely isolation, that level of prejudice, though even here attitudes toward advanced technology such as robots and AI could sometimes be... Well. He tries to be forgiving of ignorance, even if the same grace wouldn't be extended to him. ]
I was attempting to be diplomatic. You're correct.
If the humans responsible for your existence are anything like those of my home universe— [ What he means could best be illustrated with a memory of where he's from, but for the time being he refrains from sharing one, thinking it probably requires a separate discussion first. But the impulse is discernible enough for Tech to probably pick up on it. ] You deserve better.
I also have to say, regarding you being the sum of the human internet, I'm astounded you're able to hold a coherent conversation. [ Just a touch of dry humour for levity before moving back to more serious topics. ] Healed you back from the brink. How does that work? Does being in proximity to technology — help you? [ Could I help you, in other words.
While they've been digitally conversing, K's gaze has intermittently drifted between his notebook and Tech, and at some point he'd even briefly sketched out a thought in the margin of a page. But the pen has since been set aside and his head is bowed when Tech reaches, physically, to draw his attention back outward. Raising his eyes, he takes in the suggestion in silence. But his expression conveys his feelings quite clearly: the almost stricken, uncertain look, that gradually eases into thoughtful consideration at the same time he hesitantly turns his hand palm-up, finding comfort in the physical contact. Not holding hands, exactly, just touching.
How can he be so utterly transparent to someone he's only known for the duration of a single conversation? There are people who've known him for months who don't have the faintest idea of his conflicted feelings regarding his lack of name. Though, to be fair to them, he doesn't often volunteer much information about himself beyond what he is — and that mainly because his identity as an android has become important to him — preferring to keep the conversational spotlight on others.
Just as Tech is bound by the rules of godhood, K's bound by programmed limitations. Only his recognised handler can name him. Or that's been his understanding, as he hasn't been capable of naming himself, and—... This is the first time anyone else has suggested a name for him, so that method's untested. Is it really as simple as that? Can he just... accept it, keep it? He doesn't actually know (and he's almost afraid to hope, lest it lead to crushing disappointment), but he pushes past the strange tightness in his throat to respond. ]
That's a good name. Too good for something like me. [ This isn't a self-deprecating statement. It's what he was programmed and socialised to believe. ] But... [ His voice softens, as though imparting a secret. ] I do like it. Would it retain its meaning even as a nickname?
[ Because that may be the compromise he'll have to make. And in light of Tech giving him a name, a gesture he's still trying to wrap his head around, the unanswered question resurfaces at the forefront of his mind. But he doesn't press the matter, just wonders if perhaps Tech could likewise accept a (nick)name given to him. If he'd even want one. Though K would have a hard time beating Kei. A god-bestowed blessing that he's determined to keep in whatever capacity he can. ]