dualislogs | i've been bitten by the bug ...

i've been bitten by the bug ...

WHO: Open to all residents
WHAT: Inoculation Season, plus your regular monthly NAPs session
WHERE: Throughout the city, with NAPs held at The Ax Hole.
WHEN: Sept. 10-30 for plague shots and associated side effects; Sept. 10-14 for NAPs
WARNINGS: Please use if applicable!

So tell me, what do you prescribe for these symptoms?

Remember that awful plague that wiped out the city's entire original population? You know, the entire reason you've been brought here? Well, the medical science community of Dualis has been hard at work concocting a cure for as long as anyone can remember, with minimal results. But during the morning of the 10th, news of a breakthrough is announced is a special city-wide bulletin. All media channels are overtaken with this message, and alerts hit every citizen's phone. The best part? Science needs your help!

There's no formal approval process for new vaccines and medications, just a series of volunteer trials before it's determined whether what's being tested is effective. All residents are invited to participate in these trials, with a bonus of 200 extra duos as compensation for their time and possible suffering. Simply head down to your nearest MedDualis clinic and inform the MedDroids supervising that you're reporting for your civic duty. Participants will be given a quick, easy, and practically painless inoculation shot in the arm, and will walk out the door 200 duos richer. Neat, huh?

Participants will be warned that like all experimental drugs, there may be side effects. A non-comprehensive list of those possible side effects includes: minor appearance changes (hair/skin/eye color), enhancing or reducing senses (smell, taste, hearing, sight, etc.), sudden mild development of extranormal abilities (telepathy, super strength, super speed, etc.), the ability to share dreams (if you're not tired of that sorta thing after last month), and/or loss of control over abilities you already possess, or those abilities misfiring. Hey, at least death isn't included on this list!

Any intrepid Dualizen who comes down with a case of weirdness as a result of doing their civic duty will find that weirdness will wear off by the end of the month. The Head thanks you for your sacrifice!

Don't you feel the fever like I do?

Look at all of these bright, shining new faces! There’s even a few less bright, less shining faces - maybe even a few folks without faces - but hey, this city welcomes all types. Chances are, if you’ve just arrived, you're seeing some pretty crazy things, unless you're used to an eye-blinding amount of neon, robots, weird-ass technology, magic, and an omnipresent police force...and hey, if you are, congrats, you're gonna settle in juuuuust fine. But for the rest of you, the Head knows this has gotta be pretty overwhelming, right?

Well, since your quaint individual processing units are probably having a hard time, why not link up with another one? By which the Head means...

Hello, new citizens of Dualis,
and welcome to your monthly Network Adjacency Protocol~!

NAPs are a monthly community networking event similar to the Earth concept of speed dating! Two citizens (new arrivals and old hands alike) are placed at a table together with a handy cue card of queries to help break the proverbial ice. Ask queries and receive results, or ignore the card and yeet yourself straight into a brand new friendship! But don't be too shy, you've only got ten minutes together, and if you just sit in silence for the whole ten, the Network Admins are likely to come supervise and try to repair the uplink through a mild shock to the ol' central nervous system. You might find yourself saying all sorts of unintended facts about yourself if that happens...probably better to just make friends, right? Who doesn’t like friends?!

This month’s event is held at an exciting new establishment called The Ax Hole! The 'Hole is an indoor ax-throwing range plus bar plus mid-price grill-type restaurant, the first of its kind to find a home here in Dualis. You must be at least 18 to drink and/or throw axes, and if you are throwing axes, there is a limit of one drink per hour. The bartenders are very strict about enforcing this rule, and employees are available to give safety instructions on proper ax-throwing technique and supervise activities.

This is a family-friendly establishment, so anyone under 18 is welcome in the restaurant section and the viewing room between the restaurant and range to watch the ax-throwing action, but they are absolutely not allowed inside the range, even just to watch. In fact, anyone who wishes admittance to the range must sign a waiver stating that they understand the risks of participating and agree to hold the Ax Hole free of liability in the event of any accidents that cause injury or death.

If that hasn't scared you off yet, come on down and meet your new neighbors! Oh, and do try to exit with at least as many fingers and limbs as when you entered, OK?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

This son of a bitch. He sees what he's doing. Hank actually looks a little mad as he sits down his drink loudly and points at him.

"I see you, you and your fuckin' big brown eyes. Givin' me that goofy puppy dog shit. You're fuckin' heinous." Weaponized woeface is what Cyberlife programmed him with.

As he's saying this, though, he's moving to Connor's side, taking the ax, and holding hit awkwardly.

"Alright. Show me how to position my hand."

Connor's not bothering to stifle his grin at Hank's annoyance; he can be as mad as he wants - he's still put his drink down and taking the axe, so Connor wins in the end. (The fact that Hank has noticed what colour his eyes are totally escapes him - he's noticed Hank's as well, it doesn't seem like a big deal)

"I always succeed in my mission," he murmurs. Possibly the worst joke he could make, but he's so gleeful all of a sudden it just bursts out of him.

"OK, I was watching other humans do this and it looks like they find it easier with both hands." He shifts to face Hank, grabs his free wrist and plants his hand on the handle. The axe blade is close to his own chest this way, but Connor's not paying attention to it - even if he thought for a second Hank would do something, there's nothing he could do at this angle and distance. "Somebody mentioned it was like holding a baseball bat, so think of it that way."

Connor's never seen baseball, but Hank knows...sports. The general monolith of 'sports'.

Hank mutters something incomprehensible even to an android at him, just some bitchy generic grumbling.

"Baseball bat, huh? Alright. Yeah. I can do that." He positions both his hands like on a bat. "So I'm guessing overhand and not to the side? Fuck it. Get behind me."

He'll do sideways first, so he knows Connor's not in the way. The words oddly familiar, considering the times he's said them to keep his partner out of harm's way.

"Right. You need to bring it up over your head, as far back as you can..." He moves out of the way automatically at the instruction, then grins to himself at the memory of Hank saying that - they're oddly fond memories at this point.

"Keep the axe straight or the blade won't be embedded in the target," and he reaches up and rotates the axe just so, keeping it at a straight angle. "And when you throw, let it go when it's upright. Too early and it'll go high. Too late and it'll go too low."

A nice way of saying Hank really will attack the ceiling - or the floor - if he screws up his timing.

Okay, so that seems obvious. Keep it straight. That doesn't mean he doesn't need to be told and need the second pair of hyper accurate eyes to point out to him that he's crooked. The advice and help is warranted. He's just baffled at fucking... holding an ax, he guesses.

No real lumberjack competitions in the DPD.

He pulls back and.... well, he chips the wood he's aiming for. He doesn't embed it, because it didn't quite hit in such a way to go in, and it's at the bottom of the target area. In it? But just barely.

"Hm." Hank makes a muffled, disapproving sound. "Got that wrong."

Connor grins as on Hank's first try, the axe manages to hit the target at the bottom - but Hank doesn't look pleased about it.

"You hit the target your first try," he says, nonplussed. "That's good."

Hank is a champion of pessimism; he shouldn't be surprised about this.

"You can try again if you want to do better - I can try helping some more."

He's already retrieving the axe. If that axe has to be embedded in the centre of that target for Hank to be happy with this, Connor's going to damn well get him to do it.

"Alright."

Like with Fowler and their case, now that he's started it he doesn't want to give up in the middle of it. So he reaches to take the ax again as Connor nears him, holding it with both hands.

"Show me how to hold it. Up here like this?"

Maybe with a second eye with his starting positioning he'll fuck up less.

He outright grins to see Hank reaching for the axe again.

"Maybe change your posture - keep one leg forward," he says, nudging Hank's right leg a little with his own. "Then you can shift your own weight with the axe's."

He eyes Hank carefully, stands closer to adjust the axe, and as he does so murmurs, "You were a little bit low last time. Let go a fraction of a second earlier."

Oh. Right.

He realizes just how close Connor is as he kicks his foot. And honestly, it doesn't help. He can't complain really, but his concentration is shot there for a moment.

"Alright." He repeats. "Sooner. Gotta.. sooner, right. Gotcha. Now I'll..."

He throws it, and at least this time it sticks. Above the target area altogether? But it sticks.

Hank's slightly distracted on his next throw - maybe Connor shouldn't have kicked him. But it still stuck.

"And...now too soon." He leans forwards just a little to say this closer to Hank's ear so nobody else has to hear it, before retrieving the axe.

"One more try? I think you might get it next time."

As long as Connor keeps out of his way.

This son of a bitch isn't just breathing down his neck he's breathing down his neck and he knows he can feel the puffs of air with each word against his ear. And Hank barely has time to overthink because he's distracted by the sudden cold there at Connor's absence. He grunts and throws that ax like he wants it the fuck out of his hands before he drops it on his foot this time.

It's high in the target area, but it is in the target area. And it's stuck. A minor accomplishment born out of a kneejerk reaction.

"Well I still would have lost that fight but I got it in." He offers.

This time Hank's a lot faster throwing it than before - maybe he's not thinking about it as hard. He smiles and turns to face Hank fully when the axe embeds in the target. He stifles it as he retrieves the axe.

"Don't go into a fight with just an axe," he tells him. "Or if you do, keep it in your hands."

Once again, he hands it handle-first to Hank.

"One more and I'll stop nagging you."

Pause.

"About axes. For now."

He wouldn't say he nags normally, but he wants to keep his options open.

"I'd know you weren't the real Connor if you stopped nagging me," he jokes perhaps inappropriately, taking the ax again. And, yeah, got a good point anyway. He'd never disarm himself. He'd retreat first.

He takes it back and takes up a position again, moves his feet and better faces the wall.

"This is gonna be that moment in a movie where I gotta remember this shit for later because I'm gonna have to throw an ax and save your life while you're tied to the railroad tracks or something fucking ridiculous. So I'll try to take note."

He doesn't know the phrase Chekov's Gun but he can make fun of it.

"I'll remember that next time a doppelganger tries to kill us," he retorts as he steps back. Sure, it's probably inappropriate of them both, but not taking what's happened to them seriously feels good - it means it's not important anymore to be serious about.

"Tied to railroad tracks?" Connor blankly asks the obvious question, but figures he just hasn't seen enough movies and shakes it off. "So I'd better make sure you're perfect."

"I don't guess it matters 'cause I end up the fuckin' damsel in de-fucking-stress everytime."

He droops, ax in hand, nose wrinkled as he stares at the target.

"Fuck, I am the damsel in distress, aren't I? Fuck me." And then he resumes the ax-yeeting position. Both hands on the handle, body a little askew, feet the right amount apart.

Closer to the target this time? But it doesn't stick.

"...Don't worry, if you get tied to the tracks I'll improvise or somethin'. No problem. I got this."

He's had some trouble since getting here understanding some references people people make, idioms he's not familiar with - things, in short, that he'd have searched online if only he had a functional online. In theory, it should be at least easier talking to Hank just because they're from the same place and time.

It's not. Half a conversation is about navigating without fully understanding what's going on.

"Didn't you save both our lives from an advanced detective prototype android?" He retrieves the axe and gives it back to Hank.

"I know you've got it."

He steps up behind Hank and adjusts the axe's angle again when he raises it.

"Yeah, but you had to get me first 'cause I walked into that trap like a stupid asshole. Luckily I'm better with guns than axes." He concedes easily, and then... alright. Yup. Connor right up against his back.

This time rather than slinging the ax in some impressive panic he does actually wait for Connor to stop positioning him and step fully away before he throws it. KOBE! And you know what? Much closer to the target. And it sticks.

He brushes his shoulders with mocking amusement at his own limited success. See, Connor, aren't you very impressed?

Every time Hank throws the axe, he's getting closer to the centre of the target. Connor thinks it's maybe that Hank's already got experience with a gun - he knows how aiming works and how to position his body with only slight help from Connor.

And he likes being able to step in close and help him adjust the aim and angle if he has to.

"Right, someone with my face, voice and memories told you to come with him and you did. What a dumbass." Connor's gotten good at inserting a lot of irony into his voice when he says the exact opposite of what he means.

"He wasn't like you, though." Hank says as he heads to get that ax thrown this time, gesturing with his free hand as he comes back. "When I last saw you at the station you were animated, passionate, a little scared. This fucker comes strolling up to my house and gives me a pretty flat," Lieutenant, I need you. If you don't come with me Cyberlife will destroy me." And he says it in a mockingly serious voice as he makes it back to the throwing line.

"I thought, 'Well okay but didn't we just go through this' and he fuckin' 'no time to explain'ed me all the way to the Cyberlife building. And that's when the gun ended up to my head.

"I should have known. He couldn't fake sounding like he gave a shit. I thought you had a fuckin' relapse."

He assumes the ax-throwing position, then, licking his lips as he concentrates.

Animated. Passionate. A little scared. Yes, that almost perfectly describes what he was at the precinct before going to find Markus. Urgency had taken him over, and though he wasn't going to ever fight his deactivation in a literal sense, he would avoid it any way he could. And the only way in front of him was completing his mission.

"You didn't have any way of knowing there were other Connor models," he points out. It's true - he was never badly damaged enough to need a replacement, so why would Hank have ever seen one? "What else were you supposed to think?"

He quietens to let Hank focus, and his gaze flickers from the axe - it's at a good enough angle, he doesn't need to adjust it (though he irrationally considers doing it anyway) - to Hank's mouth as he licks his lips, the trail of moisture his tongue leaves behind... The thought of tasting his mouth - not a sample, a taste - crosses his mind for a fraction of a second.

He shuts down that stray thought with the ghost of a frown, not sure entirely where it came from.

As Connor is having that thought, Hank is having another one. That little lying shit that used him to try and get to Connor. He pulls back on the ax and flings it hard, imagining that moment he realized which one was trying to trick him, and he actually hits close to the target. If it had been his head he was aiming for, he would have at least gotten him in the chest. That's something.

"Think they might wake up some of those Connor models? Am I gonna see a few more of you running around?"

It's actually a somewhat serious question. Many of the androids ended up liberated. What about the ones that haven't been activated? Will they just be disassembled? He tempers the thought with a, "Don't worry, you'd always be one of a kind anyway."

Connor's gaze follows the axe to the target, and he smirks. This is mostly Hank's accomplishment, and that pleases him in itself - but it's also a little bit his own, and in something he didn't realise he could do: pass information and skills he has onto another person, without even interfacing with them.

...Then Hank successfully blows his mind.

"They--" In trying to come up with a response to that, to whether or not it could happen and what his own opinion is of that, his LED flickers between blue and yellow. "Maybe. I don't know how many spares they kept of the RK800 model - I never needed any of them."

Another couple of seconds of yellow LED.

"I wouldn't be the only one who's got to deal with this," he points out almost as much to himself as to Hank. "Markus is probably the only unique android there is - he was specifically built as a gift for a friend of Kamski's. Every other android out there has thousands of clones."

He's not sure if he's making himself feel better or not.

"I've seen a lot of androids that looked alike. Maybe that would be it. You'd just look alike. I think everything that made you wouldn't be in them. They wouldn't see all the pain you did. Lead hard fuckin' lives, yeah. But you saw real pain, Connor. You tell me you don't feel it."

He plants his finger in the middle of his chest, right on his thirium pump.

"But you do."

Just a different form of it. Those androids? They were hurting. And no other duplicate of Connor would have access to that.

"And you had to survive. So yeah, it'd be like... having fuckin' cousins I guess. Family reunions could turn up embarrassments or okay people."

He goes to get that ax after than pulling it from the target, and returns to Connor. "Alright. Impress me again. I proved myself." He didn't hit the center but he did fine. That's enough, right?

No matter what, any RK800 models that exist besides him won't be him, and it's important to remember that. It's something almost every other android must know automatically, but comes to Connor a little slower. He's used to being a prototype - the only one.

The finger to his chest makes him twitch, a tiny movement neither into nor away from Hank (does Hank know that's where his thirium pump is or was it a coincidence?), but he gets the point. He's learned very well since his activation - not all pain is physical.

But it reminds him of what he was, as a machine. That he didn't go through anything that should cause him pain, he just saw it in others - inflicted it on others. He has no right to that pain himself - but as he's also learning, a person can't stop feeling pain any more than they can stop gravity pushing them into the ground.

"I'm not so sure about family reunions," he mutters as he takes the axe, a little subdued as he takes his place in front of the target. His throw is one-handed, perfectly functional without a single motion wasted, and hits the target dead-centre.

Hank would assure him that feeling pain for others is a part of empathy. It's not that he has no right to it, but rather an understanding of where their pain might be coming from. Connor is an empathetic being; he's allowed to feel for other people. It's a motivator to help them.

"Yeah, well. You'd be the best one there." Is what he ends up saying, putting his free hand on Connor's shoulder as he takes a drink.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" He puts down his near-empty mug then, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

i've been bitten by the bug ...

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