Hunter Green (Part 5)
Oct. 15th, 2008 01:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luceTitle: Hunter Green (Part 5)
'Verse: G1 Transformers.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Same as before. Now with mention of slash.
A week had passed since the chassis of their tactician and the A.I. inhabiting it had arrived at the Ark, and things were, after a fashion, running smoothly. After allowing the crew to adjust to the idea of Hunter, and Hunter to adjust to being in the Ark, the mech was allowed mostly free run of the base in the hope that being around the familiar would draw out Prowl’s mind from wherever it had retreated to, with the stipulation that he be accompanied by an Autobot anywhere that wasn’t his quarters.
This was largely accomplished by Bluestreak, who (rather eagerly) volunteered for the task, stating that Hunter could help him with his duties since they were mostly errand running and filing and data entry and carried out mostly in and around the High Command’s offices and therefore should be familiar to Prowl and helpful towards their situation before Optimus cut him off by agreeing.
Thus, most days the gunner would be seen traversing the corridors of the Ark, trailed by a similar looking black and white mech, a sight which caused all who saw it to stare, or shake their heads in amusement at the seeming role reversal.
“I remember when Blue’ was the one shadowing Prowl.” Commented one mech as the pair passed by, Bluestreak chattering away, and Hunter occasionally making some sort of sound or response to indicate that he was listening. “At least Bluestreak’s still the one talking non-stop. Don’t think my processors could take it if it were completely the other way ‘round.” The others with him nodded in assent.
Hunter proved to be quite efficient amongst the piles of paperwork that were generated in the course of running the Ark, though every datapad he handled was usually already heavily encrypted, another of Red Alert’s new security measures. What he didn’t know, he learnt (or would that technically be relearned?) quickly. Things got sorted, organised and ordered mostly as Prowl would have done, and the return to the familiar system made things easier for the mechs trying to cope with the additional tasks. Ironhide remarked it was almost like having the former SIC back, what with the black and white chassis now once again a common sight in their offices, only they still had to do ‘all his fragging work’.
Another benefit of having the mech running around with Bluestreak was that the gunner seemed more upbeat; in contrast to how he’d been acting after Prowl had been taken by the Decepticons. And most agreed that if nothing else, this was worth having the A.I. around.
Not everyone was dealing with Hunter as well though.
Red Alert was still near overbearing with security measures regarding the A.I. Some mechs would leave the Rec Room the moment he and Bluestreak entered. Others would cast uneasy looks in his direction, or cut off conversations when he was near. Often, the only bots who would talk to him for any length of time would be High Command, the researchers, and Bluestreak. While Hunter seemed to take it in his stride, not appearing to notice or care, incidentally causing more disquiet due to the resemblance to Prowl’s normal behaviour, Bluestreak didn’t.
========================================
“Skyfire, why do they hate Hunter?” The scientist looked up from his console and datapads to find a troubled Bluestreak hovering at his doorway, for once without his black and white counterpart. Turning to face the gunner properly, he beckoned the mech inside before answering.
“I don’t think its hate, merely discomfort. For some of them, it’s the strangeness of the situation. Hunter, in a way, is Prowl, since he’s controlling Prowl’s chassis, and his behaviour mimics that of Prowl at times. And this back and forth between the familiar and unfamiliar disturbs them. A little of it might be fear as well. They see Hunter as an artificial being taking over a comrade.”
“Like in the ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’?” Bluestreak was a closet science fiction fan.
“Perhaps more along the lines of ‘The Puppet Masters’.” It was a predilection he shared with Skyfire, who found the humans’ predictions of the future of science rather intriguing, especially since a great many of their fictional stories matched sights and technologies he’d seen as an explorer and researcher.
“Oh. Alright, I can see that. But if they’d just talk to him…”
“They also see Hunter as an A.I., a program. But one that doesn’t act within the bounds of how they expect an A.I. to act. Instead, he’s… lifelike, too lifelike. And that triggers the negative response. It seems that not even we are immune to the effects of the uncanny valley.”
“But he isn’t a program.” He had to smile at the gunner’s insistence.
“I’m glad you don’t think of him as such, from our interactions I find it hard to believe myself, but the data he gave us suggests he is. Or at least, that’s what he was intended to be. But how and why he’s developed sapience is something I can’t figure out. I wish Perceptor would get more involved, but… never mind.”
“What’s wrong with Perceptor?” Bluestreak’s concern was evident, and Skyfire clicked apprehensively, considering his answer before speaking.
“… He and Hunter had a rather inauspicious second meeting. Suffice it to say he scared Hunter, and now finds it difficult to even be in the same room as the mech. And I’m not sure if Hunter is willing to spend time with him either.” The microscope’s guilt over the matter was painful to watch. The mech was a good friend and colleague, if a little socially inept at times, and Skyfire had no idea how to begin fixing this problem without spooking either of the involved even more.
“I can ask him, Hunter doesn’t hold grudges, and you can talk to Perceptor.”
“It’s not about grudges Blue’. Hunter may still be frightened of Perceptor.”
“I’ll stay with him! Or you can. He likes you too. He won’t be scared if someone he trusts is with him.” Or maybe, sometimes all you needed was an outsider’s point of view.
“Alright Blue’, we’ll ask them.”
========================================
Elsewhere in the Ark, while Bluestreak and Skyfire were talking, a black and white mech paced outside the door of another black and white mech’s quarters. Skyfire had persuaded him to hold off on speaking to Hunter until the mech had settled a bit, and he’d been fine with that, needing time to formulate his own words. Eventually working up the nerve, Jazz punched in the access code and stuck his head into the room once the door opened.
“Hunter, I’ve got an apology to make.” The startled mech in the room looked askance at him.
“What for?” Best come right out and say it. Calling any mech scared would probably not go over well, but he really did need to apologise, and he couldn’t do that without specifying the reason.
“I’ve been an aft, and I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you were scared until Skyfire pointed it out to me, and I’m supposed to notice these things.” And cue the sudden flick of doorwings into what Jazz had managed to determine, from observation of Bluestreak and Smokescreen, as ‘defensive state’, before they relaxed and the saboteur did the same.
“It’s not your fault.” At least he didn’t say ‘I’m fine’.
“It is. I got distracted by who you look like. Forgot that you’re pretty shaken by everything too.”
“It’s alright.”
“I’d like to help, please?” The mech was silent for a while, and Jazz took the fact that he hadn’t been asked to leave as a good sign.
“Jazz, am I real?”
“What?” He couldn’t see how Hunter could think that.
“I’m a program in someone else’s body. Yet I think, I feel, and I’m certainly aware of situations and circumstances. I don’t know if any of that is… mine, or the directives of Prowl’s spark. Logically, my actions should be my own, but…” Hunter gestured in an uncertain manner.
“You are real.”
“Do you know that, or do you just want to believe it?”
“I…”
“Yeah. Thought so.”
“I believe it. Listen to yourself, you say you think and feel, and you doubt your own autonomy, would a program be able to do that? Pit, would a program even care about that? Hunter, you are no less real than I am, no matter how you came into existence.”
“Huh. At whose expense?”
“We’ll find a way. For both of you. Did you think we’d just consign you to deactivation?”
“I never thought I’d still exist at this point. Besides, you don’t deactivate an A.I. program. You delete it. Where do deleted files go Jazz?” Black and white doorwings flicked briefly again, and the mech had turned aside so that his expression could not be easily read.
“You are not going to be deleted, deactivated, or de-anything!”
“You’ll probably need to, to get Prowl back.” An unnatural silence fell in the room, before Hunter ducked his head and murmured a soft apology. It had been a cheap shot, but it worked, creating a break in their conversation and allowing him to get his emotions under the control protocols. The Porsche had stopped dead in his tracks and belatedly, Jazz remembered what he’d said the first night Hunter had spent with them.
“Frag. I’m sorry ‘bout that too.”
The resulting questioning look had him elaborating.
“I made another mistake. Didn’t mean to imply I’d get rid of you like you were just some kinda program to get Prowler back. You aren’t a construct; you’re a bot with thoughts and feelings and everything of his own. I’d stake my spark on it.”
Hunter’s next expression was sceptical, yet something flickered in those optics, only to be quickly hidden once more. Jazz reflected that Prowl had been able to do the same, infusing a single glance with a myriad of inflections, without saying anything. And the crew thought the tactician was always impassive. They just didn’t look hard enough. Casting about for something to prove his opinion, the saboteur lit upon a possible avenue.
“… Hunter, you remember telling me I was important to Prowl?”
“… Yes.” Jazz ignored the unspoken question in Hunter’s reply, continuing on.
“Am I important to you in a similar manner?”
“… I… No. Not in the same way.”
“We have a pair of twins who share the same spark. Do you think they’re separate beings?”
“Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. … They share some characteristics, but they appear to make their own choices.”
Jazz grinned, triumphant in at least getting the mech to think about his point. “Y’see, you share Prowl’s spark, and right now, his chassis.” Here he tapped Hunter on the chestplate. “But it don’t mean you’re without free will. There’s no A.I. in the universe I know of that acts like you. Hunter, you exist, not just as a ‘Con program to animate Prowl’s body, but as an actual individual. Skyfire’s nutting out the why and how, but you’re real. And even if you don’t believe me right now, I know he’s going to find a way to prove it.”
========================================
Perceptor looked up from his console as someone called to him through the door to his lab. Skyfire had cornered him, telling him that Bluestreak had gotten Hunter to agree to pay him a visit so that he could examine the A.I., and both mechs were on their way to see him now. The microscope rubbed a hand over the barrel on his shoulder nervously. He’d already frightened Hunter once, and felt even worse about it when Skyfire had shared his theories with him. He’d scared a near sparkling. By implying he’d like to experiment on him.
The door to his lab opened, and Bluestreak entered, followed by a cautious Hunter. Slowly, the grey mech giving the other an encouraging look, the pair drew near him. The scientist cleared his vocaliser and spoke first.
“I really am very sorry for the manner in which I behaved that day. It was thoughtless and insensitive of me.”
The black and white mech just nodded, and looked around his lab, wide opticked. Perceptor hid his wince at the wariness being displayed, and gestured to a seat. “If you would be so kind.”
The mech sat, and Perceptor approached with a data cable to connect to his CPU. The mech couldn’t hide the nervous flicker of doorwings, though they stilled when Bluestreak rested a comforting hand on his shoulder and Hunter pressed slightly back into the gunner. Perceptor would have thought it rather… endearing, if he weren’t the cause of such behaviour. Then the connection opened up. Hunter at least didn’t try to fight him, though his chariness made observations difficult.
After he’d gotten what he could, he disconnected and was heartened that Hunter did not immediately leap away from him. “Thank you for coming, both of you. If… if it’s not too much trouble, Hunter, could you return for further observations?”
The mech directed much less wary look at him, then silently nodded his acquiescence, and Perceptor’s spark lightened a little. He hadn’t made an irreparable mistake.
'Verse: G1 Transformers.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Same as before. Now with mention of slash.
A week had passed since the chassis of their tactician and the A.I. inhabiting it had arrived at the Ark, and things were, after a fashion, running smoothly. After allowing the crew to adjust to the idea of Hunter, and Hunter to adjust to being in the Ark, the mech was allowed mostly free run of the base in the hope that being around the familiar would draw out Prowl’s mind from wherever it had retreated to, with the stipulation that he be accompanied by an Autobot anywhere that wasn’t his quarters.
This was largely accomplished by Bluestreak, who (rather eagerly) volunteered for the task, stating that Hunter could help him with his duties since they were mostly errand running and filing and data entry and carried out mostly in and around the High Command’s offices and therefore should be familiar to Prowl and helpful towards their situation before Optimus cut him off by agreeing.
Thus, most days the gunner would be seen traversing the corridors of the Ark, trailed by a similar looking black and white mech, a sight which caused all who saw it to stare, or shake their heads in amusement at the seeming role reversal.
“I remember when Blue’ was the one shadowing Prowl.” Commented one mech as the pair passed by, Bluestreak chattering away, and Hunter occasionally making some sort of sound or response to indicate that he was listening. “At least Bluestreak’s still the one talking non-stop. Don’t think my processors could take it if it were completely the other way ‘round.” The others with him nodded in assent.
Hunter proved to be quite efficient amongst the piles of paperwork that were generated in the course of running the Ark, though every datapad he handled was usually already heavily encrypted, another of Red Alert’s new security measures. What he didn’t know, he learnt (or would that technically be relearned?) quickly. Things got sorted, organised and ordered mostly as Prowl would have done, and the return to the familiar system made things easier for the mechs trying to cope with the additional tasks. Ironhide remarked it was almost like having the former SIC back, what with the black and white chassis now once again a common sight in their offices, only they still had to do ‘all his fragging work’.
Another benefit of having the mech running around with Bluestreak was that the gunner seemed more upbeat; in contrast to how he’d been acting after Prowl had been taken by the Decepticons. And most agreed that if nothing else, this was worth having the A.I. around.
Not everyone was dealing with Hunter as well though.
Red Alert was still near overbearing with security measures regarding the A.I. Some mechs would leave the Rec Room the moment he and Bluestreak entered. Others would cast uneasy looks in his direction, or cut off conversations when he was near. Often, the only bots who would talk to him for any length of time would be High Command, the researchers, and Bluestreak. While Hunter seemed to take it in his stride, not appearing to notice or care, incidentally causing more disquiet due to the resemblance to Prowl’s normal behaviour, Bluestreak didn’t.
“Skyfire, why do they hate Hunter?” The scientist looked up from his console and datapads to find a troubled Bluestreak hovering at his doorway, for once without his black and white counterpart. Turning to face the gunner properly, he beckoned the mech inside before answering.
“I don’t think its hate, merely discomfort. For some of them, it’s the strangeness of the situation. Hunter, in a way, is Prowl, since he’s controlling Prowl’s chassis, and his behaviour mimics that of Prowl at times. And this back and forth between the familiar and unfamiliar disturbs them. A little of it might be fear as well. They see Hunter as an artificial being taking over a comrade.”
“Like in the ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’?” Bluestreak was a closet science fiction fan.
“Perhaps more along the lines of ‘The Puppet Masters’.” It was a predilection he shared with Skyfire, who found the humans’ predictions of the future of science rather intriguing, especially since a great many of their fictional stories matched sights and technologies he’d seen as an explorer and researcher.
“Oh. Alright, I can see that. But if they’d just talk to him…”
“They also see Hunter as an A.I., a program. But one that doesn’t act within the bounds of how they expect an A.I. to act. Instead, he’s… lifelike, too lifelike. And that triggers the negative response. It seems that not even we are immune to the effects of the uncanny valley.”
“But he isn’t a program.” He had to smile at the gunner’s insistence.
“I’m glad you don’t think of him as such, from our interactions I find it hard to believe myself, but the data he gave us suggests he is. Or at least, that’s what he was intended to be. But how and why he’s developed sapience is something I can’t figure out. I wish Perceptor would get more involved, but… never mind.”
“What’s wrong with Perceptor?” Bluestreak’s concern was evident, and Skyfire clicked apprehensively, considering his answer before speaking.
“… He and Hunter had a rather inauspicious second meeting. Suffice it to say he scared Hunter, and now finds it difficult to even be in the same room as the mech. And I’m not sure if Hunter is willing to spend time with him either.” The microscope’s guilt over the matter was painful to watch. The mech was a good friend and colleague, if a little socially inept at times, and Skyfire had no idea how to begin fixing this problem without spooking either of the involved even more.
“I can ask him, Hunter doesn’t hold grudges, and you can talk to Perceptor.”
“It’s not about grudges Blue’. Hunter may still be frightened of Perceptor.”
“I’ll stay with him! Or you can. He likes you too. He won’t be scared if someone he trusts is with him.” Or maybe, sometimes all you needed was an outsider’s point of view.
“Alright Blue’, we’ll ask them.”
Elsewhere in the Ark, while Bluestreak and Skyfire were talking, a black and white mech paced outside the door of another black and white mech’s quarters. Skyfire had persuaded him to hold off on speaking to Hunter until the mech had settled a bit, and he’d been fine with that, needing time to formulate his own words. Eventually working up the nerve, Jazz punched in the access code and stuck his head into the room once the door opened.
“Hunter, I’ve got an apology to make.” The startled mech in the room looked askance at him.
“What for?” Best come right out and say it. Calling any mech scared would probably not go over well, but he really did need to apologise, and he couldn’t do that without specifying the reason.
“I’ve been an aft, and I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you were scared until Skyfire pointed it out to me, and I’m supposed to notice these things.” And cue the sudden flick of doorwings into what Jazz had managed to determine, from observation of Bluestreak and Smokescreen, as ‘defensive state’, before they relaxed and the saboteur did the same.
“It’s not your fault.” At least he didn’t say ‘I’m fine’.
“It is. I got distracted by who you look like. Forgot that you’re pretty shaken by everything too.”
“It’s alright.”
“I’d like to help, please?” The mech was silent for a while, and Jazz took the fact that he hadn’t been asked to leave as a good sign.
“Jazz, am I real?”
“What?” He couldn’t see how Hunter could think that.
“I’m a program in someone else’s body. Yet I think, I feel, and I’m certainly aware of situations and circumstances. I don’t know if any of that is… mine, or the directives of Prowl’s spark. Logically, my actions should be my own, but…” Hunter gestured in an uncertain manner.
“You are real.”
“Do you know that, or do you just want to believe it?”
“I…”
“Yeah. Thought so.”
“I believe it. Listen to yourself, you say you think and feel, and you doubt your own autonomy, would a program be able to do that? Pit, would a program even care about that? Hunter, you are no less real than I am, no matter how you came into existence.”
“Huh. At whose expense?”
“We’ll find a way. For both of you. Did you think we’d just consign you to deactivation?”
“I never thought I’d still exist at this point. Besides, you don’t deactivate an A.I. program. You delete it. Where do deleted files go Jazz?” Black and white doorwings flicked briefly again, and the mech had turned aside so that his expression could not be easily read.
“You are not going to be deleted, deactivated, or de-anything!”
“You’ll probably need to, to get Prowl back.” An unnatural silence fell in the room, before Hunter ducked his head and murmured a soft apology. It had been a cheap shot, but it worked, creating a break in their conversation and allowing him to get his emotions under the control protocols. The Porsche had stopped dead in his tracks and belatedly, Jazz remembered what he’d said the first night Hunter had spent with them.
“Frag. I’m sorry ‘bout that too.”
The resulting questioning look had him elaborating.
“I made another mistake. Didn’t mean to imply I’d get rid of you like you were just some kinda program to get Prowler back. You aren’t a construct; you’re a bot with thoughts and feelings and everything of his own. I’d stake my spark on it.”
Hunter’s next expression was sceptical, yet something flickered in those optics, only to be quickly hidden once more. Jazz reflected that Prowl had been able to do the same, infusing a single glance with a myriad of inflections, without saying anything. And the crew thought the tactician was always impassive. They just didn’t look hard enough. Casting about for something to prove his opinion, the saboteur lit upon a possible avenue.
“… Hunter, you remember telling me I was important to Prowl?”
“… Yes.” Jazz ignored the unspoken question in Hunter’s reply, continuing on.
“Am I important to you in a similar manner?”
“… I… No. Not in the same way.”
“We have a pair of twins who share the same spark. Do you think they’re separate beings?”
“Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. … They share some characteristics, but they appear to make their own choices.”
Jazz grinned, triumphant in at least getting the mech to think about his point. “Y’see, you share Prowl’s spark, and right now, his chassis.” Here he tapped Hunter on the chestplate. “But it don’t mean you’re without free will. There’s no A.I. in the universe I know of that acts like you. Hunter, you exist, not just as a ‘Con program to animate Prowl’s body, but as an actual individual. Skyfire’s nutting out the why and how, but you’re real. And even if you don’t believe me right now, I know he’s going to find a way to prove it.”
Perceptor looked up from his console as someone called to him through the door to his lab. Skyfire had cornered him, telling him that Bluestreak had gotten Hunter to agree to pay him a visit so that he could examine the A.I., and both mechs were on their way to see him now. The microscope rubbed a hand over the barrel on his shoulder nervously. He’d already frightened Hunter once, and felt even worse about it when Skyfire had shared his theories with him. He’d scared a near sparkling. By implying he’d like to experiment on him.
The door to his lab opened, and Bluestreak entered, followed by a cautious Hunter. Slowly, the grey mech giving the other an encouraging look, the pair drew near him. The scientist cleared his vocaliser and spoke first.
“I really am very sorry for the manner in which I behaved that day. It was thoughtless and insensitive of me.”
The black and white mech just nodded, and looked around his lab, wide opticked. Perceptor hid his wince at the wariness being displayed, and gestured to a seat. “If you would be so kind.”
The mech sat, and Perceptor approached with a data cable to connect to his CPU. The mech couldn’t hide the nervous flicker of doorwings, though they stilled when Bluestreak rested a comforting hand on his shoulder and Hunter pressed slightly back into the gunner. Perceptor would have thought it rather… endearing, if he weren’t the cause of such behaviour. Then the connection opened up. Hunter at least didn’t try to fight him, though his chariness made observations difficult.
After he’d gotten what he could, he disconnected and was heartened that Hunter did not immediately leap away from him. “Thank you for coming, both of you. If… if it’s not too much trouble, Hunter, could you return for further observations?”
The mech directed much less wary look at him, then silently nodded his acquiescence, and Perceptor’s spark lightened a little. He hadn’t made an irreparable mistake.
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Date: 2008-10-18 07:32 am (UTC)