wickedchouette | (no subject)

[Alfie's eyes spark with interest.]

Tell me about those errors.

I don't know what you want to know. [ It shifts. It doesn't seem to know how to process what's happening, and the light is just straight up yellow, now. ]

You said that if you feel something, it's an error. That means, right, that you can feel, sometimes, even if you're not supposed to. Tell me about those times.

[ There's a struggle, for a moment, then: ]

The cat was lonely. I felt bad. [ It says, reluctantly. It can't disobey. ]

Have you ever felt lonely?

[Alfie rests his hands on the counter and leans forward, relentless.]

[ Oops, the ring goes red. ]

I don't know. I don't know how that's supposed to feel.

Red, that's worse, right?

Yes. [ It looks away. ]

Is it the worst? Is there anything beyond it?

[ A long pause. ]

Models that are in stressful situations tend to self-destruct.

[Well, fuck. That stops him in his tracks, because as much as he wants to push it and test it, he doesn't want to destroy it.]

Yeah. All right; never mind, then.

[ It shifts. ]

I'm - I'm sorry. [ It says, the red circle blinking. It doesn't know what else to say. ]

What for?

I don't know. [ It stutters slightly. ] I don't know. Is there anything I can do for you?

No. Short of going through my drawers and closets, just go back to doing whatever you like.

[ But. But it doesn't know...

It gives Alfie a sort of helpless look for a second, faltering. It doesn't know what it likes. It isn't supposed to like anything, it just exists. It cleans. It's supposed to clean.

So - it does. It goes to the kitchen and just starts to deep clean it, with anything that it can find. Weirdly enough, that seems to calm it down. You're fine. You're not broken. ]

For fuck's sake--

[Alfie mutters, turning on his heel to follow him.]

That doesn't need cleaning. You went out and found a cat on your own, didn't you; surely you can do things besides clean.

Not supposed to. [ It says, scrubbing the counter a little more violently than necessary. ] This is my function. Please allow me to do the work I am programmed to do.

[ The blue flickers again. ] If you have no need of my services please return me to Good Life.

[ The cat was nice, though. It liked the cat. ]

No.

[He snaps, a touch too violently.]

Absolutely fucking not.

[ It stops, frozen in place. And then it looks back at Alfie. ]

I'm not real. [ It says. It's voice is quieter. ] I am a machine programmed to tidy your apartment. I look human, and react like a human, but I am not. You don't have to feel guilt over returning me.

If I cannot perform my primary function, I am useless to you. That falls under reasonable explanations for recycling. They'll pay for shipping.

Edited 2019-03-04 23:18 (UTC)

[Evenly:]

Unreal things do not get sad over cats.

[ Suddenly, without warning, it slams a fist down onto the counter. It - breaks a tile. Sorry, Alfie. A beat. Another.

Very, very calmly: ]

Then I am broken, and you need to send me to my manufacturer so that they can fix the problem.

[Alfie frowns a little at the tile, but doesn't comment.]

What if I prefer you broken?

You should not. Deviants are unstable and unpredictable.

[Alfie snorts.]

What part of what I've said makes you think I want stable and predictable?