futurology | text | un: Sasaki

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text | un: Sasaki

[Haise has talked with several teammates about the lack of cohesion, and how difficult it is for all of them to coordinate. It was something he'd meant to discuss, or perhaps encourage others better suited, to bring up when they had some down-time. In the wake of a rather heated debate he chose to sat out on, he thinks maybe conversations about how they unify can't wait]

It seems that some of us may be feeling a little hot under the collar after recent events. Since I am an advocate for mercy, and am only alive because as much was extended to me when others may have argued against it, I don't want to touch on moral disagreements. Our stances will naturally differ, because our organization doesn't give us any unifying principles to abide by.

As a member of the CCG, I had very set guidelines to follow. Those weren't all things I agreed with, or felt right about. But they did maintain order, and did keep people safe. They made us an effective team, and more than once it's come up with colleagues here that we might benefit from that.

This was something I'd hoped might come up on Oska, when people had time to relax, but considering the circumstances...

Would any of you be interested in opening that discussion? That is, talking about our backgrounds, where we're coming from, and what we believe. If we start there, surely we can find a way to work together. If we're constantly at odds with one another, that isn't good for anyone. When I first joined, that division was certainly in place, but those I disagreed with still took the time to speak with me, and we did have common ground. I'd like to suggest that, as a team, we try to find that...for all our sakes.

Edit: Although I spoke of my own background in the example I provided, by no means am I suggesting that everyone do the same. Most importantly, we need to establish where we stand on issues we're often confronted with in our line of work. These things would inevitably show in our actions, so speaking on personal matters is not necessary for discussion.
What each of us believes and what course we're inclined to take is what I mean to inquire about.

[ooc: Naturally, thread-hop/jack as desired]

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I was under the impression that they were not vessels without conscious thought. If they were, then I agree with you. But I believe even an individual who loses their memory has the capacity to make more, and still be whole.

Then I suppose we disagree on that count. What's the point in living if you've lost everything that makes you what you are? Everything that ever mattered to you?

[ALASTAIR may have halted the process for him,but the moment he returns to his own world he knows what fate awaits him. Would much rather die with some part of himself left in tact. Heine, Lily, all of them-- without his memories of them he has nothing at all!.]

I can see memories hold great importance to you. This is understandable.

I am of the opinion that memories are more fluid. They are not the sole indicator of a personality, or a person's worth. New memories can be made, and either reconciled with an old life, or started fresh. For an Omnic, there is always the potential of losing one's memories- a surge of magnetic force and I would not remember my own name. But I would hope that I would not be considered a lost cause, at that point. I believe that, if there are any survivors from the ordeal happening in Oska, even if they had lost their memories, they would not wish for death.

That is why I feel the way I do.

Perhaps new memories can be made, for some. For these people I'm aware that it's a possibility. But they've still lost everything, and who are any of us to know how much meaning these people attributed to the things they have lost? You can't know that they would not wish for death, and now they're beyond asking. On top of which, even should new memories form, they have to live with the knowledge that they'd once been something else, were used for a purpose that may revolt them. I can only see it as a cruelty.

And I know, for myself, that death would be preferable.

[But then, his memories - bleak as they are, cruel as they are - are the only thing that has ever belonged to him. His life is not his own, and so it has no great importance, but those fleeting moments of feeling as though there were people to whom he mattered-- they're everything.]

[Zenyatta pauses before he replies, thinking about this.]

Your empathy for them is so strong. I understand your point of view now.

But we cannot run on the presumption that there are no survivors left, and we cannot presume that they would also share your perspective- just as we cannot presume they would share mine. If they wish for death, then I believe it should be granted. That would be the least we could do for them. But they deserve a chance to speak for themselves, if they are still alive, do they not?

[Empathy...is that what it is? It's a concept he understands in theory, but has never considered himself particularly capable of experiencing. Having it leveled at him like that-- it's disconcerting unsettling strange, leaves him with an odd feeling behind the ribs that he doesn't know how to name.

He's not meant for that kind of thing. Which means - doesn't it? - that it must be some kind of flaw.

Still. He's started now, and as such--]

But therein lies the problem, or at least, one of them. Whatever they are now, it's not what they once were. They won't be speaking from the same place as they would have been were their memories still in tact. It might not be the decision they would have made were they still problematically themselves. How can someone with no memories or life experience remaining to them be expected to make an informed choice?

I do not have that answer. It is impossible to measure that many "what ifs" and to gain a definitive answer. We can only do what the survivors decide will be right by them.

Which, for at least some of them, is likely the wrong choice.

[He still sounds cool and level and calm but inside of himself there's a tangled mire that he can't make any sense of, a feeling of pressure like metal bands snapping tight around his chest and a gradual distancing, as though this conversation, all these conversations, are happening to someone else, far away from him.

He's out of his depth, here. This much he knows.]

I suppose it doesn't matter, now. And I'm well aware that most don't share my perspective, here.

I do not think we disagree as much as you might think. We both share the same goals- to eliminate suffering. But we must be careful in how we choose to pursue those goals, so that we do not cause suffering to ourselves as well.

Do not take discouragement from our lack of a consensus just yet.

[Is that what he wants, though? To eliminate suffering? In this case, at least, he supposes it's true-- he has no qualms about killing, could end the lives of most sentient life forms without so much as a second thought, but something like this, it's different. Killing is quick, the pain need last only a moment. This kind of protracted agony, the awful blankness of it-- it fills him with a sick kind of horror and so yes he wants to see an end to it, feels it too sharply inside his own head and rattling right down to his bones (what's that, if not empathy, Giovanni?) and as such it's hard to comprehend how the prolonged alternative could cause less pain. At least, for something like him. Designed as he is to bring death.]

It's a little hard not to, when one is so significantly outnumbered. And I'll admit that I don't quite understand how ending another's suffering would bring suffering on ourselves.

Taking a life may free a soul from a body, but in exchange, it is a weight added upon the soul of the killer. It is not a burden I would wish upon anyone.

[A little darkly--]

Well. Considering that I was created for the specific purpose of killing, it seems unlikely that I have a soul with which to bear that weight.

[Pity is perhaps not Giovanni's goal with that statement, but it fills Zenyatta's processor anyway. ]

... Might we speak in person, my friend? I have something I would like to show you.

[Pity certainly isn't what he's expecting, nor what he wants. Best not to show it too overtly.

It surprises him a little, that response, the sudden switch to video that comes with it. And there's also the visual reminder that he's speaking with a robot...not something he knows much about, but surely something as manufactured as he is.]

...I suppose so. If you like.

I will find you shortly.

[TY, GPS tracker on the communicator...]

[He'll find Giovanni slouching against the trunk of a tree in one of the scattering of meadows that break up the city, in some out of the way corner, keeping clear of the cats. He seems relaxed enough, posture boneless and loose, but there's something in his face that belies this-- something a little tense, a little too hard and sharp.]

Hello.

[ Zenyatta says to signal his approach, just in case. He doesn't want to startle the other, if he was lost in his thoughts. It's not like he makes a sound, when he's hovering around. He "stands" (which is really just, more floating) by the tree as well, enjoying it's shade. ]

The weather has been relatively nice, has it not?

[ Small talk, to break the ice. ]

[Silent, perhaps, but Giovanni senses his approach all the same, or picks up on the scent of something metallic drawing nearer to him, at any rate. Nevertheless, he doesn't look up until the greeting comes, and even then it's a subtle thing, the slight lifting of his chin, nothing more. Still, he seems amenable enough as the other Audente settles nearby, or floats there anyway. Makes no movement to suggest that the company is unwanted.]

I suppose it has, yes. Although I'll admit, I'm still getting accustomed to the concept of natural light.

[All this open space, the sky, the burning disc of the sun-- they don't unsettle him in quite the same way as they had on his arrival and the months that followed. Slowly but surely, he's acclimatising to the differences this new way of life presents to him. He's not entirely sure whether this is a good thing.]

I see.

[That's a rather unfortunate thing to hear, but he already was under the impression Giovanni had unusual past.]

I was made in a rather dark factory as well. My memories of that time are not as clear to me now. I believe I had compressed those files with time, to save space.

[Zenyatta hums in thought, but continues on.]

I do not think then, I believed I had a soul either.

On what premise do you believe beings can have souls? What are the requirements?

[Briefly, he glances over at the mechanical being, holds the look for just a moment before allowing it to drop away. Thoughtful, his brow creases.]

I'm not sure that I do. I can't say I believe in anything approaching an afterlife, or the like. At the end of the day, we're all just so much meat.

[A brief pause and then--]

Well. Perhaps not you. Hahah.

[Close on the heels of that comment, though, he continues--]

But if there is such a thing as a soul, I should think it only forms in something that arises naturally. Something born. Someone I should say. A real, living thing. Nothing artificially created, like myself.

By that logic, I do not have a soul either, then.

[Which he already had a feeling Giovanni was thinking anyway.]

Is this what you mean?

[A slight hesitation then, a small delay, a vague ripple of feeling burgeoning behind his ribs, but he never has been the best at identifying emotions, nor at observing social niceties, so after a moment he answers honestly.]

Well. I suppose that's what I mean, yes.

But I do.

[It isn't said in an argumentative tone, but just a calm explanation.]

What makes a life? Is it how you are made by being born or created- or is it your existence? Am I not alive? Do my actions not matter?

If I am not real, and neither are you, but our actions and our words have the same effect on others as other living beings, then why are we not "real"? What is the difference?

[His frown deepens around another momentary silence, thinking it through. It's a hard thing, he thinks, to put into words, but the certainty is there in him all the same. That whatever he is, it's something false, something artificial. The moments tick by one by one as he gathers himself, fumbles after the words he needs in order to form an explanation.

This kind of thing, this conversation, it's not something he's accustomed to having.

Eventually though his lips part, and he tries.]

I don't think it's about living, or actions. It's about what we are, what we're made of and why. I was cloned from the cells of my maker, cultivated specifically for high resonance with Kerberos - the thing that makes me what I am - I'm not something that was ever supposed to act on the world in ways other than the purpose for which I was intended. I don't see how something like myself could have a soul. I'm just a copy, of sorts. One of many.

[Or well, there were many, once. Now there are only two. But this, he thinks, is irrelevant.]

Do you like where you came from? What you were "made" to do?

[He knows, based on what Giovanni's already said, the answer is probably no.]

text | un: Sasaki

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how did that exclamation mark get in there ;;

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> to video

audio

to action?

Sure! --> action

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