#the liminality of the android

[greatsmartphonewallpaper]

Liminal Themed Smart Phone Wallpaper

[killmyxx]

CSI Bot's last report... bye...

[pepsimaxxing]

[sweetmouringlamb]

welcome to my blog.

hi, welcome. i like a bunch of stuff and i mainly just repost on here(maybe), thanks for reading.

[coastentity]

🔭☄️🌒✨>>traveler entity <unknown iteration>

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The paradox of choice screens

I'm coming to BURNING MAN! On TUESDAY (Aug 27) at 1PM, I'm giving a talk called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE!" at PALENQUE NORTE (7&E). On WEDNESDAY (Aug 28) at NOON, I'm doing a "Talking Caterpillar" Q&A at LIMINAL LABS (830&C).

It's official: the DOJ has won its case, and Google is a convicted monopolist. Over the next six months, we're gonna move into the "remedy" phase, where we figure out what the court is going to order Google to do to address its illegal monopoly power:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/07/revealed-preferences/#extinguish-v-improve

That's just the beginning, of course. Even if the court orders some big, muscular remedies, we can expect Google to appeal (they've already said they would) and that could drag out the case for years. But that can be a feature, not a bug: a years-long appeal will see Google on its very best behavior, with massive, attendant culture changes inside the company. A Google that's fighting for its life in the appeals court isn't going to be the kind of company that promotes a guy whose strategy for increasing revenue is to make Google Search deliberately worse, so that you will have to do more searches (and see more ads) to get the info you're seeking:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

It's hard to overstate how much good stuff can emerge from a company that's mired itself in antitrust hell with extended appeals. In 1982, IBM wriggled off the antitrust hook after a 12-year fight that completely transformed the company's approach to business. After more than a decade of being micromanaged by lawyers who wanted to be sure that the company didn't screw up its appeal and anger antitrust enforcers, IBM's executives were totally transformed. When the company made its first PC, it decided to use commodity components (meaning anyone could build a similar PC by buying the same parts), and to buy its OS from an outside vendor called Micros-Soft (meaning competing PCs could use the same OS), and it turned a blind eye to the company that cloned the PC ROM, enabling companies like Dell, Compaq and Gateway to enter the market with "PC clones" that cost less and did more than the official IBM PC:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/08/ibm-pc-compatible-how-adversarial-interoperability-saved-pcs-monopolization

The big question, of course, is whether the court will order Google to break up, say, by selling off Android, its ad-tech stack, and Chrome. That's a question I'll address on another day. For today, I want to think about how to de-monopolize browsers, the key portal to the internet. The world has two extremely dominant browsers, Safari and Chrome, and each of them are owned by an operating system vendor that pre-installs their own browser on their devices and pre-selects them as the default.

Defaults matter. That's a huge part of Judge Mehta's finding in the Google case, where the court saw evidence from Google's own internal research suggesting that people rarely change defaults, meaning that whatever the gadget does out of the box it will likely do forever. This puts a lie to Google's longstanding defense of its monopoly power: "choice is just a click away." Sure, it's just a click away – a click, you're pretty sure no one is ever going to make.

This means that any remedy to Google's browser dominance is going to involve a lot of wrangling about defaults. That's not a new wrangle, either. For many years, regulators and tech companies have tinkered with "choice screens" that were nominally designed to encourage users to try out different browsers and brake the inertia of the big two browsers that came bundled with OSes.

These choice screens have a mixed record. Google's 2019 Android setup choice screen for the European Mobile Application Distribution Agreement somehow managed to result in the vast majority of users sticking with Chrome. Microsoft had a similar experience in 2010 with BrowserChoice.eu, its response to the EU's 2000s-era antitrust action:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/BrowserChoice.eu

Does this mean that choice screens don't work? Maybe. The idea of choice screens comes to us from the "choice architecture" world of "nudging," a technocratic pseudoscience that grew to prominence by offering the promise that regulators could make big changes without having to do any real regulating:

https://verfassungsblog.de/nudging-after-the-replication-crisis/

Nudge research is mired in the "replication crisis" (where foundational research findings turn out to be nonreplicable, due to bad research methodology, sloppy analysis, etc) and nudge researchers keep getting caught committing academic fraud:

https://www.ft.com/content/846cc7a5-12ee-4a44-830e-11ad00f224f9

When the first nudgers were caught committing fraud, more than a decade ago, they were assumed to be outliers in an otherwise honest and exciting field:

https://www.npr.org/2016/10/01/496093672/power-poses-co-author-i-do-not-believe-the-effects-are-real

Today, it's hard to find much to salvage from the field. To the extent the field is taken seriously today, it's often due to its critics repeating the claims of its boosters, a process Lee Vinsel calls "criti-hype":

https://sts-news.medium.com/youre-doing-it-wrong-notes-on-criticism-and-technology-hype-18b08b4307e5

For example, the term "dark patterns" lumps together really sneaky tactics with blunt acts of fraud. When you click an "opt out of cookies" button and get a screen that says "Success!" but which has a tiny little "confirm" button on it that you have to click to actually opt out, that's not a "dark pattern," it's just a scam:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/27/beware-of-the-leopard/#relentless

By ascribing widespread negative effects to subtle psychological manipulation ("dark patterns") rather than obvious and blatant fraud, we inadvertently elevate "nudging" to a real science, rather than a cult led by scammy fake scientists.

All this raises some empirical questions about choice screens: do they work (in the sense of getting people to break away from defaults), and if so, what's the best way to make them work?

This is an area with a pretty good literature, as it turns out, thanks in part due to some natural experiments, like when Russia forced Google to offer choice screens for Android in 2017, but didn't let Google design that screen. The Russian policy produced a significant switch away from Google's own apps to Russian versions, primarily made by Yandex:

https://cepr.org/publications/dp17779

In 2023, Mozilla Research published a detailed study in which 12,000 people from Germany, Spain and Poland set up simulated mobile and desktop devices with different kinds of choice screens, a project spurred on by the EU's Digital Markets Act, which is going to mandate choice screens starting this year:

https://research.mozilla.org/browser-competition/choicescreen/

I'm spending this week reviewing choice screen literature, and I've just read the Mozilla paper, which I found very interesting, albeit limited. The biggest limitation is that the researchers are getting users to simulate setting up a new device and then asking them how satisfied they are with the experience. That's certainly a question worth researching, but a far more important question is "How do users feel about the setup choices they made later, after living with them on the devices they use every day?" Unfortunately, that's a much more expensive and difficult question to answer, and beyond the scope of this paper.

With that limitation in mind, I'm going to break down the paper's findings here and draw some conclusions about what we should be looking for in any kind of choice screen remedy that comes out of the DOJ antitrust victory over Google.

The first thing note is that people report liking choice screens. When users get to choose their browsers, they expect to be happy with that choice; by contrast, users are skeptical that they'll like the default browser the vendor chose for them. Users don't consider choice screens to be burdensome, and adding a choice screen doesn't appreciably increase setup time.

There are some nuances to this. Users like choice screens during device setup but they don't like choice screens that pop up the first time they use a browser. That makes total sense: "choosing a browser" is colorably part of the "setting up your gadget" task. By contrast, the first time you open a browser on a new device, it's probably to get something else done (e.g. look up how to install a piece of software you used on your old device) and being interrupted with a choice screen at that moment is an unwelcome interruption. This is the psychology behind those obnoxious cookie-consent pop-ups that website bombard you with when you first visit them: you've clicked to that website because you need something it has, and being stuck with a privacy opt-out screen at that moment is predictably frustrating (which is why companies do it, and also why the DMA is going to punish companies that do).

The researchers experimented with different kinds of choice screens, varying the number of browsers on offer and the amount of information given on each. Again, users report that they prefer more choices and more information, and indeed, more choice and more info is correlated with choosing indie, non-default browsers, but this effect size is small (<10%), and no matter what kind of choice screen users get, most of them come away from the experience without absorbing any knowledge about indie browsers.

The order in which browsers are presented has a much larger effect than how many browsers or how much detail is present. People say they want lots of choices, but they usually choose one of the first four options. That said, users who get choice screens say it changes which browser they'd choose as a default.

Some of these contradictions appear to stem from users' fuzziness on what "default browser" means. For an OS vendor, "default browser" is the browser that pops up when you click a link in an email or social media. For most users, "default browser" means "the browser pinned to my home screen."

Where does all this leave us? I think it cashes out to this: choice screens will probably make a appreciable, but not massive, difference in browser dominance. They're cheap to implement, have no major downsides, and are easy to monitor. Choice screens might be needed to address Chrome's dominance even if the court orders Google to break off Chrome and stand it up as a separate business (we don't want any browser monopolies, even if they're not owned by a search monopolist!). So yeah, we should probably make a lot of noise to the effect that the court should order a choice screen, as part of a remedy.

That choice screen should be presented during device setup, with the choices presented in random order – with this caveat: Chrome should never appear in the top four choices.

All of that would help address the browser duopoly, even if it doesn't solve it. I would love to see more market-share for Firefox, which is the browser I've used every day for more than a decade, on my laptop and my phone. Of course, Mozilla has a role to play here. The company says it's going to refocus on browser quality, at the expense of the various side-hustles it's tried, which have ranged from uninteresting to catastrophically flawed:

https://www.fastcompany.com/91167564/mozilla-wants-you-to-love-firefox-again

For example, there was the tool to automatically remove your information from scummy data brokers, that they outsourced to a scummy data-broker:

https://www.theverge.com/2024/3/22/24109116/mozilla-ends-onerep-data-removal-partnership

And there's the "Privacy Preserving Attribution" tracking system that helps advertisers target you with surveillance advertising (in a way that's less invasive than existing techniques). Mozilla rolled this into Firefox on an opt out basis, and made opting out absurdly complicated, suggesting that it knew that it was imposing something on its users that they wouldn't freely choose:

https://blog.privacyguides.org/2024/07/14/mozilla-disappoints-us-yet-again-2/

They've been committing these kinds of unforced errors for more than a decade, seeking some kind of balance between monopolistic web companies and its users' desire to have a browser that protects them from invasive and unfair practices:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2014/may/14/firefox-closed-source-drm-video-browser-cory-doctorow

These compromises represent the fallacy that Mozilla's future depends on keeping bullying entertainment companies and Big Tech happy, so it can go on serving its users. At the same time, these compromises have alienated Mozilla's core users, the technical people who were its fiercest evangelists. Those core users are the authority on technical questions for the normies in their life, and they know exactly how cursed it is for Moz to be making these awful compromises.

Moz has hemorrhaged users over the past decade, meaning they have even less leverage over the corporations demanding that they make more compromises. This sets up a doom loop: make a bad compromise, lose users, become more vulnerable to demands for even worse compromises. "This capitulation puts us in a great position to make a stand in some hypothetical future where we don't instantly capitulate again" is a pretty unconvincing proposition.

After the past decade's heartbreaks, seeing Moz under new leadership makes me cautiously hopeful. Like I say, I am dependent on Firefox and want an independent, principled browser vendor that sees their role as producing a "user agent" that is faithful to its users' interests above all else:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/07/treacherous-computing/#rewilding-the-internet

Of course, Moz depends on Google's payment for default search placement for 90% of its revenue. If Google can't pay for this in the future, the org is going to have to find another source of revenue. Perhaps that will be the EU, or foundations, or users. In any of these cases, the org will find it much easier to raise funds if it is standing up for its users – not compromising on their interests.

Community voting for SXSW is live! If you wanna hear RIDA QADRI and me talk about how GIG WORKERS can DISENSHITTIFY their jobs with INTEROPERABILITY, VOTE FOR THIS ONE!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/12/defaults-matter/#make-up-your-mind-already

Image: ICMA Photos (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/icma/3635981474/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

[syrupfog]

Sanji doesn’t understand the point of humans, really. He knows that people love them, but… they’re just so FRAGILE. They break easily, hard to repair, and once their systems have stopped circulating, they just don’t turn back on. He doesn’t get the appeal.

He knows, has been informed, that he was born human. But it’s a ship of Theseus situation. He’s been long ago upgraded, doesn’t have those weaknesses he was born with. 

Hell, his siblings were incredibly powered up, for humans, and they were still easily disposed of.

Logically, loving a human just doesn’t make sense. They’re not REAL the way androids are real. Their consciousness doesn’t exist as soon as they’re powered down. There’s a liminal nothingness to that. Humans are like toys. Like starter beings.

He’s had all of those thoughts hundreds of times before, as he’s watched humans die in front of him. Watched his siblings as they perished by his own hand. This has been his Truth his whole life. Humans aren’t worth thinking about because they’re just not really REAL.

And of course, that’s why he’s questioning his own actions now. 

THIS human he’s seen around a few times, having washed up in a dingy little rowboat at the edge of town, telling the people something about how he’s been separated from his crew.

This human who has been working hard, exchanging manual labor for food while sleeping rough and making time to train with his ridiculous swords. Those are a weakness, at least consider guns, or fortified steel legs.

But this human, who’s been so confident he’ll be reunited with his crew, who’s been biding his time and training… Sanji had taken an interest in him. 

And then Sanji had watched him die. A freak accident with machinery he’d been tasked to repair in exchange for a meal.

Everyone in town knows of Sanji. And he knows they know, knows they think he’s a little alarming. But that’s fine. They’re human. 

However they perceive him, though, they don’t object when he swoops in and lifts up the green haired human, taking him away.

It’s not like he’s useful to them anyway anymore, he’s turned off and humans don’t turn back on. 

But Sanji… wants this one to. 

It’s ridiculous and maybe Sanji should upgrade his logic processing, but… he’s drawn to this one. Wants it back online.

His father had been a monster of a man, and the only one Sanji had taken true pleasure in turning off. But he’d kept his father’s workshops in working order to do his own repairs as necessary, and that comes in useful now. Sanji only knows living bodies for their food purposes.

He works and studies and experiments. He takes out his nightly recharging batteries and instead gets out his old charging cord so he doesn’t have to take breaks. He knows humans are quick to recycle after being turned off, even with the best precautions taken.

He doesn’t know why, but… he wants this. He’s drawn to the man. There’s an energy about him that Sanji doesn’t remember ever seeing before, and he wants it back. 

And after an intense amount of repairs and replacements and experimental flesh-and-metal welding…

He flips the switch. 

The man groans. 

He lifts a hand slowly to his face, squinting his eye at the light. Sanji hadn’t been able to save both of them. 

He sits up, blinking as he looks around. 

“Wh’ th’ fuck happened?” He mumbles.

“Hi,” says Sanji. “I’m Sanji. Your systems failed and turned off. I turned them back on.” 

The man looks down at himself. Sanji thinks he’s done a good job matching the spray paint to his skin tone. 

“Swords?” The man asks.

“In the other room,” Sanji says. “I wanted to check you were fully online before returning your things to you.” 

“Is that why I’m butt-ass naked?” The man asks, then shakes his head. “Whatever. Am I being held? Can I go?” 

Sanji blinks. “Of course you can go,” he says.

“But please let me feed you, first. Humans need sustenance.” 

The man frowns. “You not human or something?” He asks. “You don’t look like a fishman or mink.” 

“I’m an android,” says Sanji. 

“Well that’s a fucking note,” says the man. “I’m Zoro. Thanks for… fixing me, I guess.”

Sanji smiles. “I will take you to your clothes and then food,” he says. “There has been rumor your ‘crew’ as you called them is here, although I have not validated these claims. I have been busy.” 

Zoro grins, swinging his legs over the table and standing.

“Perfect,” he says. “I gotta get going, then.” 

Sandi frowns. “Wait,” he says. “You’re still newly upgraded. There might be bugs!” 

Sanji HATES bugs. 

“I’m fine,” Zoro says, then promptly stumbles. 

“Like that!” Sanji screeches. He’s had years, decades to work on his own tech.

“You need to be stress tested properly!” 

Zoro pinches the bridge of his nose and there’s the sound of metal groaning under his fingers. “Fine,” he says. “Then I guess you’re coming with me.” 

“Pardon?” asks Sanji. 

“Listen, Swirly,” Zoro says. “I have places to be and a future pirate king to serve. I don’t have time to be waiting around for hardware to fail so either you’re coming with me or I’m handing my doctor a computer repair manual.” 

Sanji groans. “…Fine,” he says. “I will feed you and then I will pack up. It will take two hours.”

“You have until Luffy shows up,” Zoro says. Then amends, “You have until Luffy has eaten everything in your kitchen.” 

Sanji doesn’t know this ‘Luffy’ but he takes that into his calculations. “Acceptable,” he says. “Let’s be off, then.”

And thus, the Straw Hats gain their cook, as Sanji makes it his life mission to keep his collection of humans as safe as possible. They’re so fragile, they break so easily. 

Although these ones do seem hardier than most.

[mayhemstories]

Prototype: Love - Chapter 8 "Information - 3.1"

check it out on ao3 here! // find chapter index here!

After fighting with Connor, you do the only thing you know how to do. Work. part three: you warned me on a Wednesday, said your love would hurt //

words: 5,151 / chapters: 8/? / rating: mature

-- ☆ -- ☆ -- ☆ --

WEDNESDAY, 10th of November 2038, 12:11 AM

Between fighting with Connor and having a fresh trail to follow for Jamie’s case, there was no way you’d be able to sleep. You pushed the station doors open with one shoulder as you rummaged through your pockets for your badge with your other hand.

“Good evening, Detective. Welcome to the DPD.”

It was after midnight and the station was dark and almost empty - save for one or two officers on night shift - but all three android receptionists sat in the same post they always sat in and the one to the very right gave you a welcoming smile.

“Uhh, hi,” you stammered, holding up the badge you finally found in your pocket. “You’re still working?”

“We work twenty four hours a day, Detective,” she smiled.

Between the lack of sun and the dim station lights having switched to energy savings mode, the androids’ LEDs and the screens behind their backs were the only thing lighting up the room. It gave you an eerie feeling and with a shiver you suddenly understood why people feared animatronics. The androids didn’t move their heads, but their eyes followed you as you stepped through the turnstile gates and into the precinct.

It wasn’t the first time you were on night shift, not by far, but somehow something about being here in the middle of the night still felt forbidden. Perhaps it was the fact that you weren’t officially on night shift. Perhaps it was the fact that you were about to research for a case that wasn’t technically yours anymore. Perhaps it was none of that. You didn’t know.

Rows of empty desks gave the moonlit bullpen a liminal feel, but what really freaked you out were the police androids that stood silently in a row at the edge of the room. One more rigid than the next, they stood next to each other and stared ahead, their LEDs off, their faces so perfectly human that you expected them to break character and start laughing any moment.

You had seen all this before, but in the middle of the night, so soon after your fight with Connor, it seemed more real somehow. More grotesque.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, unsure who you were talking to. “I’m so sorry”

When you turned away, you felt their gazes burn holes into your back.

Like treading on eggshells you walked across the bullpen, the pit in your stomach getting deeper and deeper.

At Connor’s desk, you hesitated.

None of this detour was planned, you had wanted to make straight for the archive, or perhaps Jamie’s cell, but the desk had an almost magnetic pull which you simply couldn’t resist.

Slowly you traced your hand across the top of his office chair before deciding to sit down.

Is this what the world looks like from his eyes?

You tried to imagine the bullpen covered in blue lines and orders, in priority lists and informative pop-ups. It filled you with a strange sense of calm serenity.

You looked over to where Hank usually sat and imagined the old Lieutenant’s gruff shouts, all bark and no bite. Raising your hand to the terminal on the desk, you imagined pulling back your own skin to reveal white plastic and connecting to the machine to download case files in seconds, the way only androids can.

The warm butterflies in your stomach felt like admiration, and you couldn’t help but smile as you thought about the android. Forgetting how silly you probably looked from the outside you closed your eyes. You could almost hear Connor’s voice as he teased you for sitting in his chair, pretending to be him. You could almost feel yourself grin in response, could almost feel yourself wrapping your arms around the android and laughing. The closeness filled you with joy, with calm, with a feeling of safety.

But the movie playing in front of your mind’s eye didn’t stay happy for long.

Dirty looks intruded on joyful sceneries. People stopped greeting you, stopped interacting with you. Started ordering you around, starting pointing guns at you, decided you were utterly disposable. Violence and slurs poisoned your happiness. Failure to obey meant death, and absolutely nobody cared to save you.

And in the middle of it all? You were staring at your own face, casual and almost bored as it ordered your destruction.

Eyes flying open, you jumped out of the chair as if it burnt you.

Your heart still hammered in your chest when you made your way to the archive room.

-

Three hours, several cups of coffee and lots and lots of reading later, you made your first big find.

Although cases stretched back longer than a decade, you had decided to focus on files from the last few years, considering Lucas’ assumed age of four to seven years. You had been back to Jamie’s holding cell a couple times and while it was happy to make small talk with you - which was more than it was willing to do with other officers - it still refused to say anything about its origins.

You had hoped to find mentions of children in witness statements - unsuccessfully.

You had hoped to find mentions of children in interrogations - unsuccessfully.

The screen displaying the n-th case file was making your tired eyes hurt and you were sure you would’ve fallen asleep already if not for the coffee in your right hand, when something caught your eye.

You jolted awake with a start.

Evidence submitted by android model LM100 on scene.

The serial number differed from Jamie’s by only the last two digits.

It was a report on a busted deal from a year ago, which took place on a public playground. A nearby nannybot’s visual footage had been confiscated by an officer on scene. Bingo.

Even though the note on the video file claimed that no relevant information had been found, you clicked on it with trembling hands

It showed a little boy, no older than five, being pushed on the swings by the android, babbling excitedly about all the things he was going to build in the sandbox. The android encouraged the conversation occasionally, asking further questions.

Superficially, it looked like an entirely normal scene, but when you saw the rest of the associated evidence list, Jamie’s words hit you with a wave of nausea.

Category: Evidence. Object: Plastic bag containing 4.2g of Red Ice. Location: Playground Sandbox

”They pulled him out of school, robbed him of a social life, to use him as a mule for their merchandise.“

It was as disgusting as it was clever.

They hid the drugs on the playground, then sent an android and the child to play on the playground. They told the android and the child what part of the playground to talk about, then told the customers to listen in on the conversation to find the contraband. When the drugs were collected, they told the android to come home.

Nobody would ever suspect a playing child of being a drug dealer.

As the video continued rolling, you watched as somebody in dark clothes lurked around the pair for a while, then approached the small sandbox and began digging. When they got up again, clearly successful, you watched as two police officers jumped out of a nearby civilian car and arrested them. All the while the little boy and the android happily continued their conversation. The video stopped abruptly when one of the officers approached the android and asked it to turn in all its recorded footage from the last thirty minutes.

The android tried to refuse, stating that its footage was protected by public android recording laws and could only be accessed via warrant or express consent by its owners.

It wasn’t technically wrong but its owners had made two crucial mistakes - assuming that the DPD would a. know that and b. care.

The video ended there.

You leant back in your chair, drinking the last sip still contained in your coffee cup, staring up at the ceiling.

It was far from a perfect m/o, but it was a damn good one.

If Jamie hadn’t told you what to look for, the video would’ve looked perfectly innocent. Even more, if that officer hadn’t acted in complete disregard of privacy laws, nobody would ever have obtained that video. If Jamie hadn’t run away, been sold, gotten memory wiped, reversed its memory wipe and injured its owner, nobody would ever have looked twice at the footage taken by the LM100 with the suspiciously similar serial number.

Speaking of which…

You leant back forward and typed a new search into the terminal. This time, you removed your filter by Red Ice cases and only performed a keyword search for ‘LM100’.

The search took a minute, then another, but slowly the screen populated with results.

Most of the 23 matches were uninteresting, but three of them featured serial numbers that matched what you were looking for.

One of them was Jamie itself, of course, and one of them was the file you just looked at, but the third one was new to you and included not one but three LM100s with serial numbers similar to Jamie’s and the nanny bot’s - except for the last digit or two, which differed.

The file was also fairly recent, the report written only a little less than a month before your arrival in Detroit, but you had missed it because no suspects had been arrested in the case, so there were no interrogations or witness statements to skim.

It was a report on a bust that was the result of a month-long investigation - except somebody must have tipped the perps off, because when the officers arrived nobody was there anymore. The DPD did however find a large amount of evidence, including not one, but three beaten up and broken LM100s.

The case stood out in another way, too: among the found evidence was a notebook, filled from cover to cover with encrypted notes.

After double clicking on it to check its shelf number in the evidence archive, you got up and cracked your knuckles.

Time for the real fun to begin.

In any other city, looking for old evidence would’ve led you to some dusty dark basement with rows and rows of dilapidated shelves.

But this was Detroit, where even the walls bled blue.

You did have to walk down the steps to the basement, but instead of dim lights and musky air you were greeted by glass fronts and stark brightness. When you entered the case number of the closed case whose evidence you were trying to access, the walls around you began rearranging themselves until they finally presented you with the notebook.

At first glance it was no encryption that you recognised. Page after page was filled by seemingly random letters and numbers in clean but hastily written CyberLife Sans, occasionally interrupted by seemingly random bouts of empty space before being seamlessly continued a little later.

You cycled through a few standard encryptions you knew off the top of your head, with no success. It made sense - even the DPD would have thought to check those.

Encrypting and decrypting wasn’t your strong suit, but something about the writing seemed familiar in a way you couldn’t explain. Like something you had seen before, though you could not tell where.

If the encryption was done well enough, you wouldn’t stand a chance. If it was done well enough, nothing short of the decryption key could unlock the hidden meaning.

It was time for another coffee.

-

Jamie looked up when you entered its cell, your coffee in one hand, the notebook in another.

“Hello, Detective,” it smiled.

“Hi, Jamie,” you smiled back. “Are you good? Can I get you anything? Thirium, maybe?”

“No, thank you” it replied, pointing towards the empty pouches in the corner. “My thirium is well within recommended levels. You have made sure of that.”

Then it raised its eyebrows. “No success?”

It knew you were investigating, you had told it yourself, and it seemed oddly fine with that for someone who still absolutely refused to help.

“Depends,” you answered, pulling out the notebook and opening it at a random page.

Recognition spread across its face. Its eyes twitched and the corners of its lips moved upwards ever so slightly.

“An android wrote this,” it said. “A deviant.”

“Yes, I know,” you shook your head impatiently. “The CyberLife Sans. It’s obvious. But what does it mean?”

Jamie tilted its head. “Oh, yes,” it nodded slowly. “I suppose you’re right. It is CyberLife Sans. I didn’t notice that.”

Now it was your turn to frown in your confusion. “What? Then how did you know it was written by an android?”

Its eyes flickered up at you and you physically felt as it retreated back into its shell and the friendly android you had small talked with throughout the night slipped away.

“No, no, no,” you pleaded. “Please, I need your help.”

“I cannot help you.” It stood up straighter, every word slow and measured, as if looking for a trap springing from its own mouth.

“Please.” You were tired and desperate and most definitely not above begging. “Please, anything. I want to help, I need to help. Just a little hint on how I can crack the encryption, please!”

Jamie’s brows twitched and it stared at you without reacting. Its body was still on the offensive, like a cornered animal, but it seemed to contemplate something. Its gaze fluttered down to its hand, which looked almost as good as new - if a little dented - after your efforts to fix it and back up at you.

Something in its eyes softened and it opened its mouth to speak.

“Encryption?” it asked. “Detective, it is not encrypted.”

-

Detective, it is not encrypted.

Jamie’s words echoed in your ears for the next few hours as you tried everything to figure out what the numbers and letters meant.

You were sitting at one of the desks in the bullpen - and had been for the better part of the last few hours - attempting to decode the notebook, drifting in and out of sleep. Or rather, to understand the notebook. Since apparently, it was not encoded.

Pulling an all nighter was harder than you remembered it being, and your eyes kept getting heavy and you kept awaking with a start, hearing static screams you were fairly certain only existed in your dreams.

The notebook laid on the table in front of you and you rested one side of your face on the pages, tracing the letters on the other side with your eyes.

You had tried most things you could think of - trying to find patterns, trying to count which characters repeated most often, trying to find prefixes, make sense of the gaps - and now you were running low on ideas.

C-O-N-N-O-R, you traced with your eyes, your gaze jumping from letter to letter, from line to line, meaning lost in the jumbled mess they were buried in.

H-A-N-K. It made no sense, but it was fun to find meaning where there was none.

P-O-L-I-C-E.

R-K-8-0-0.

A-N-D-R-O-I-D.

D-E-

Hold on.

Was there no T on this page?

You had been meaning to spell Detroit, but you got stuck on the T when your eyes failed to find one.

Lifting your face up a little you looked down on the page under your head, expecting to find a T there.

Nothing.

That was strange.

Not impossible, but it seemed a little unlikely that not a single T would be on the entire double page.

Turning the page, you scanned for a T again.

Nothing to be found.

What?

Continuing to turn page after page, you continued to fail finding T’s until you had looked through the entire notebook and confirmed your suspicions - no T’s far and wide.

You felt excitement rush through your body, pumping you up from adrenaline and lifting the sleepy haze from your brain.

Finally. A trail.

After browsing the notebook for a little longer and taking notes on a nearby paper with trembling hands, you summarised your findings: all digits 0-9 were present with digits 0-8 being slightly more frequent than the number nine. Also present: letters A through R, all roughly as frequent as the number nine, slightly less frequent than the other digits.

Missing: any and all letters that came after S in the alphabet.

Another small detail you hadn’t noticed before was that the letters and numbers weren’t spaced out perfectly evenly - every two characters the spacing got slightly wider, placing them in pairs rather than continuously.

With a start, you realised why it seemed familiar.

It looked like a hexadecimal representation for byte values - except hexadecimal only went up to F. This one went up to R for some reason.

With trembling hands, you counted the digits. Zero to nine, A, B, C… R. Twenty-eight.

The notebook wasn’t encrypted, it was written in base 28 - for whatever reason.

Even translated, the first block looked nonsensical to the untrained eye, but the second one didn’t. The numbers weren’t random. They were character values, values as they were used by computers, phones - and androids.

2N - or 79 in decimal numbers - Capital O

3F - decimal 99 - lowercase c

44 - lowercase t

3R - o

3E - b

3H - e

42 - r

0K - a blank space.

Followed by 1L and 1O - the number one and the number four. Fourteen.

44 - lowercase t

3K - lowercase h

Then another blank space and four values that you were willing to bet stood for 2038.

October 14th 2038

Score.

-

In the early hours of the morning - and with the help of an online base converter - you finished your translation.

From what you could tell, the first block consisted of some form of file meta data - whichever android had written the notebook had probably hastily pushed relevant information together into a text file, then hurriedly written everything down in a way that came naturally to it - byte by byte.

Why it chose to do that in base 28 rather than the much more popular hexadecimal was a mystery to you, but you didn’t care much.

Much more interesting were the remaining twelve blocks of text - a calendar in diary-style which contained the drug ring’s plans for precisely 28 days following the creation of the file on Thursday, October 14th 2038.

At some point during the translation process you had decided to refer to them as a drug ring - it was perhaps one of the biggest cases of organised crimes you had ever seen. They were not a big group, but they had their fingers everywhere and it looked like they supplied half of Detroit.

The notebook also confirmed your suspicions as to their modus operandi - it mentioned Lucas by name, referring to him as “the indicator” and repeatedly featured time tables for when to send him to which playground and with which androids.

There were also the androids - you counted ten different LM100s, all with serial numbers differing from Jamie’s by only a digit or two, tasked with anything and everything from accompanying Lucas, to fetch materials, to actually hand-making the red ice. At least you assumed it was Red Ice - you were fairly certain, really - but the notebook only ever referred to it as “crimson”.

These were clearly not amateurs.

You didn’t know whether to be impressed or disgusted with the amount of skill and planning that was put into these operations. The fact that all of this was planned, in excruciating detail, at least a month in advance was an impressive feat in and of itself, but you also cross-checked with the report database and except for a few sightings that confirmed the plans in the notebook were factual, there were little to no reports that any of this had ever happened.

How had an entire police department, no, an entire city, missed all of this?

To top it all off, it ended today.

Today, November 10th, was the 28th day after the calendar had started and also the last entry in it. The intel ended today.

When you realised that, you had to get up and get another coffee.

So here you were now, leaning against the coffee machine, fighting a fight against yourself that you could not win.

You had investigated without permission in a case that had been taken off your hands and you had made incredible progress - progress you would not be allowed to follow up on. No way. Fowler would not allow you to follow your trail, either choosing to ignore it completely in light of the tense overall climate or reprimanding you for disobeying him and giving the trail to somebody else. Maybe somebody like that annoying Gavin Reed you had met yesterday. You shuddered at the thought.

You could, however, follow the trail without asking for permission and beg for forgiveness later.

“To go or not to go, that is the question…” you whispered to the empty break room, your empty coffee cup trembling in your hands.

Really, you should get that checked out. Why do your hands tremble all the time?

You put your coffee cup into the dishwasher, where seven other empty cups already laid, all yours from different points in the night.

Hm. Maybe that was why your hands trembled.

Throwing one last glance at your new best friend, the coffee machine, you made a decision.

To go.

-

Stepping out of the bus - driven by a human, luckily - you threw a glance at the crumpled piece of paper in your hand.

You had had the presence of mind to note down the address, shut down the terminal and place the notebook back in storage before leaving the precinct.

Supposedly, the drug ring’s hideout for this week was just around the bend and as you rounded the corner, a large warehouse came into view.

It looked abandoned but you knew better than to trust first impressions, and so you wrapped your winter coat tighter around yourself, concealing the handgun on your hip and carefully placing your hand on the phone in your pocket.

All you wanted to do was ensure the drug ring was actually hiding here before calling Fowler - or dispatch, should Fowler not pick up - and inform them of your findings. He would have no choice but to send somebody, and you’d already be here, automatically being involved.

What could possibly go wrong?

The sun rose late in Detroit in November, and so dim shadows still protected you in the twilight of the morning.

Still, you approached slowly, careful not to make sounds as you stepped on the freshly-fallen crunchy snow, occasionally stopping behind containers or old, dilapidated cars that lined the parking lot.

The freezing air bit through your clothes and you felt your nose and ears get cold as you cowered behind one car after the other. It seemed to take infinitely long and you found yourself holding your breath as you got closer and closer.

You also found yourself trying to listen more and more intently as you got closer, desperate to hear voices or sounds, something - any sign of life that allowed you to make the call you craved to make and retreat until back-up came along. But even as you arrived at the warehouse, close enough to touch the walls, there was nothing. Gaping emptiness where you hoped sound would be.

Cowering against the wall, you exhaled deeply, your warm breath forming clouds in the cold winter air. You would have to find a way to get inside.

Slowly you rose, stabilising yourself on the cold warehouse wall, before taking one tiny step after another around the warehouse.

You hoped for a window in climbing distance, or even a locked door you could break into - maybe a balcony on the second floor?

When you found an unlocked and already opened door in the back of the building, you couldn’t believe your luck.

Granted, it was behind a metal fence, but the fence was low enough to climb.

Suppressing a thrilled squeal you couldn’t help but wiggle in your excitement before walking towards the fence and deliberately wrapping your fingers around the metal rods, pulling yourself up slowly.

This was finicky work and a vulnerable situation - climbing a thin fence without making rattling metal sounds - and you were ready to freeze, jump off and start shooting at any moment.

But nothing happened.

You landed on the other side with a soft thud, the door still open. Leaning against the wall next to the door, you threw a peek inside, but it was shrouded in darkness and silence.

The only voice in your head that was louder than Fowler reprimanding you for… well everything, was Connor’s, lecturing you about probabilities of favourable outcomes. Then again, Connor would probably do the exact same thing you were doing right now, so who was he to judge?

And thinking of it, you should really get the cute android out of your head. Why were you thinking about him of all people, right now of all times?

In truth you were beginning to suspect why he had set up camp in your prefrontal cortex and was refusing to leave, but you were refusing to admit it. Falling in love with coworkers was decidedly not something you did.

Which brought you back to your current situation. Calling your coworkers out to an empty warehouse would be embarrassing at best and humiliating at worst - and even in the short time you had spent at the DPD, you already realised that you would never hear the end of that.

Leaving was also out of the question. The “what if’s” would haunt you forever, together with little Lucas’ face from the recordings. You had seen the pure fear that even thinking of the drug ring had awakened in Jamie, and yet it had been brave enough to grab Lucas and run.

You would be able to enter a lousy warehouse.

Exhaling deeply into the dawn one last time, you entered the warehouse. Hopefully you’d see the sun again.

-

The first sensation that hit you was a musky smell. The next one was pain - you hit your foot against a staircase. The third one was relief - it was a stone staircase and not a metal one, so it made very little sound when you almost fell on it.

Shaking off the pain, you grabbed the railing and pulled yourself back up.

Come to think of it, gaining some high ground probably wasn’t a bad idea - you’d be able to get in and out without being seen much more easily. Not letting go of the railing, you slowly walked up.

At the top of the stairs was another door, this one closed.

Testingly you pushed down the handle.

Unlocked.

The door screeched open and you grimaced, expecting to hear shouts or footsteps - but everything remained silent.

You stepped through the door.

Now, you were standing on a large catwalk overlooking almost the entire warehouse. It was dimly lit, and you could roughly make out shelving across the floor and desks in one end of the hall. There were doors to the left of you and doors to the right, with faint wall lights between them.

Still no signs of life.

Was there a chance you had been wrong after all?

Turning to the right, you began to walk towards one end of the hall, hoping to see or hear something useful.

Then several things happened very quickly.

A few doors to your left, a knob turned audibly. You froze, your one hand flying to the phone in your pocket, the other one to your hidden gun. “What the-“, a male voice asked with clear surprise. You flipped around towards him, your fingers flying across the screen, dialing Fowler’s number without even looking. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” the man asked. You hid your phone behind your back, hoping the call would go through.

“Detroit Police!” you shouted. There was no sense in pretending to be a civilian, there was no way they’d let you go. Plus, it wasn’t like you had an innocent explanation for being here anyway.

“We have you surrounded!” you lied confidently.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, officer,” the man tried to raise his hands and smile, but his body language gave him away. From the sweat on his brows to his nervous giggle, it was clear as day that he was lying.

“You are under arrest for possession and organised distribution of illegal substances. You have the right to remain silent,” you began reading him his rights. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

You hesitated before continuing. “You have been arrested at 7:20am. The location of your arrest is as follows:…”

This was not part of the Miranda warning you were obligated to give with every arrest, but the man didn’t have to know that. You just hoped Fowler would catch on and know to send you back up. “You have a right to counsel. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you.”

The man was still standing there, seemingly just as overwhelmed by the situation as you were. You suspected that he was not used to being in situations like this - a henchman, at most. Definitely not the brains behind the organisation.

Which meant that there were more people around and you were still in danger. One person you’d be able to beat in a fight, but several? Plus at minimum ten androids? You and your handgun didn’t stand a chance.

“Detroit Police will raid this building and arrest you and all your co-conspirators,” you stressed the word co-conspirators, more for Fowler than anyone else. “Resistance is futile. Stand down now.”

You could feel your heartbeat in your ears, fast enough to power a race car. Your phone threatened to slip from your sweaty hands.

The man’s frown deepened, anger mixing with fear. “How did you find us?”

You didn’t answer.

Instead, you threw a careful glance at the phone you still had half-hidden behind you, trying to move your head as little as possible. You prayed to whoever was watching that it had worked - that the call had been picked up, that Fowler understood what was going on.

A green little light in the top corner.

Ongoing phone call with Jeffrey Fowler.

Thank everything, it worked! He heard it all!

But before you could celebrate and wait for the cavalry to arrive, your gaze wandered to the rest of the screen.

The little pop-up Connor had put there was still open.

The little blue dot he had explained was his tracker was grey now.

Grey, and in the middle of the harbour.

“Android offline. Last seen: 9 hours ago.”

-- ☆ -- ☆ -- ☆ --

author's note: This chapter didn’t have a lot of Connor content, but the next Chapter is from his POV! Also, I am actively working on the encrypted notebook and might upload it when I’m done :)

previous chapter // next chapter coming in two weeks!

[kolibrieren]

I had to see some foolishness come across my dash the other day, so I'm having another rant:

Replika designs being very bland and samey is INTENTIONAL.

There are two major reasons for this deliberate design choice by the authors of Signalis, both of which are central to the game's themes:

1. Repetition As Oppression

The Eusean Nation is a totalitarian facist shithole where people are forced to contort themselves into conformity, or face retribution from the state. The state craves power through removal of individuality in their citizens, and reduces living to a repetitive, mass-produced nightmare as part of this process.

Homes are the same. Tools are the same. Food is the same. Jobs are the same. The only people who experience variation from the mean are outsiders like Arianne and her mother, who were so far outside outside the Eusean Nation (physically and socially) that they were outside its' control.

At this point, the only personal identity a person has left is their name and their face. The Rotfront medical records show a diverse and distinct list of citizens who are easily distinguishable from each other by what they look like and who they are - which is where Replikas come in.

A mass-produced android workforce is the ideal new frontier of oppression and control for the Eusean Nation's leadership. Replikas are built to look the same, act the same, even think the same. Even between models, which must be different by virtue of their different roles, distinctiveness is erased. If the nation could do this to their human citizens as well, they would. They've settled for replacing humans workers with Replikas instead.

This also reinforces conformity for human citizens as well - every single police officer is the same woman with the same face, every bureaucrat, every construction worker. Human citizens see the same things every day, and now they see the same people too. It is endlessly repeating, a state-enforced fractal nightmare to break people down into powerless, interchangable parts.

2. Repetition As Liminality

During the course of the game, you are playing as Elster. You are not merely observing her, you ARE her, and you see the world through her eyes. Because she is experiencing psychosis caused by persona degradation, she frequently has flashbacks and hallucinations that twist her world into a repetitive nightmare. The same locations, the same obstacles, and the same people, over and over and over.

At the bottom of the mineshaft, Elster sees rooms from Sierpinski 23. As she trudges deeper into the nightmare, Elster sees Penrose 512 again and again in different states of repair. Elster sees Lilith in Arianne and Arianne in Falke. All STARs look the same and use the same subtitle colour (dark green). All EULRs look the same and use the same subtitle colour (brown). It all repeats.

Elster cannot tell them apart, especially when they're all mass-production models, and so neither can the player. The Replikas look the same for the same reason there are a hundred LSTR corpses in the elevator shaft. Her nightmare is cyclic, and repetitive, and never-ending.

[ikemenfangirl]

FOR ALL TIME (Lovebrush Chronicles)

♥️ HEARTBEAT THRILLS ♥️

★ Escape from the liminal space

♥️ Game: For All Time

📆 Time: coming soon

🇨🇳 Server: Mainland China

❤️ Ayn CV: Zhang Jie / KENN

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Title: Lovebrush Chronicles

By: NetEase

Platform: iOS, Android

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

※ female protagonist

OFFICIAL SITE

EN: https://www.lovebrushchronicles.com

China: http://hlr.163.com

Japan: http://www.foralltime.jp

Taiwan: https://www.foralltime.com.tw

[killmyxx]

CSI Android discovers rain.

[estrophore]

Signalis Post (barely coherent thought vomit)

So I finished signalis on Monday and i think ive just about recovered enough for me to make a gush post about it on tumblr dot com, which i think i have to do cause i dont think any other game has really hit me as hard as this one. Spoilers obvs.

Being pre-transion, with that associated depression and closing off from oneself, ive always found it difficult to get out my feelings, even in private with just myself, and yet signalis has filled me throughout with its beautiful romantic melancholy and left me genuinely sobbing for the gay robot and her space girlfriend (almost worried that if id played this game on estrogen it might actually have just killed me on the spot). the only other times i can think of where i really cried were playing We Know The Devil near the beginning of the year, which really fkin hit the part of me that struggles to accept myself, and that time i rewatched the last episode of she-ra after reading the ‘Word War Etheria’ fanfic, which brings the characters so much more to life i fell for them all over again.

Signalis is a game that calls back to a lot of classic horror like resident evil and silent hill, which i havent got round to playing any of yet, but i think nostalgia works both ways sometimes and i’ll be playing them sooner now. sometimes horror gets stereotyped as all death and violence, some games fill themselves with skulls and corpses, and big ugly monsters and basically shout ‘DEATH!’ in your face repeatedly and it all just comes off as a bit garish and ridiculous and not actually very scary really. Signalis sits at the other end of that scale (with some of my other fav horror games like soma, cry of fear) where its environs are most usually just… quiet. Still. Muffled. Sad. just as often as theres tension or creeping fear because of this i find theres a strange kind of comfort too. Maybe its just that in most other genres of games theres so much of music, UI elements, pickups and interactibles with vibrant design. Here, theres room for your mind to just occupy the space. A soft fog. A dimly lit room. An empty train. Snow out a window. Liminal spaces that dont expect anything from you.

Signalis is a game thats just simply, unapologetically gay, and i dont think i would have been quite so invested in Elster and Ariane’s relationship if they were a straight couple. Its why representation is important, if art’s way for us to explore our emotions then its important to have media that we can relate to. Even Adler’s role isnt typically masculine. Our replika characters are manufactured, designed for certain roles in the base. Notes from the tough Stars and Storchs in the shooting range, the dollish Eules with the fairy lights and music player in the dorm. I couldnt help but think of groups of Eules sat around chatting, together, and im yearning for that feeling of togetherness, of understanding a friend that closely. I somehow missed the couple in the mineshaft (next playthough, ill find you v_v ). Despite the harshness of life in the Eusan nation (especially for the gestalts) the characters in it are defined by their feelings of belonging and hope. With the obvious parallels to east germany, i think of posters of cosmonauts and space travel from the time. Propaganda, sure but also made with the genuine belief in something greater. When the events of the game take this away, well, we find the last Kolibri, whod rather lose herself than lose her [ah. Im not sure theres a word here to properly describe the relationship they embody]. Its a game defined by loneliness.

We dont lie up at night scared by some corrupted android. We arent stuck with horror at the flesh everywhere, not on its own. We lie awake thinking about Elster and Ariane’s love for each other, the horror of their decline, the futility of trying to hold on forever. Its existential horror done perfectly. It shows an ending postponed and stretched far beyond its limits, and so squarely reminds you that you do, in fact, have to die one day. You’ll break down. One day you’ll say your last words to the people you love and you wont even know you have. Ariane’s final few diaries arrive with the full force of the narrative behind it, like a spear through my heart. For the record, I got the promise ending. Im still sad. It's a game about raging desperately against an unfair ending. I might think about this game for the rest of my life. I would sincerely say its an artistic masterpiece, by the sure definition of video games as art.

I like that the story leaves a lot open and abstract. I think it makes the emotional themes takes centre stage more. And i havent had nearly enough time to sift through it and come up with my own takes, we’ll need a few more playthroughs for that. And theres so much more to say that cant go in just these few paragraphs! Signalis is a game about two girls who had to run away from everything to find someone they belonged with. The universe may be cold and bleak, but you have to try, you might just find something beautiful, even if it doesnt last forever. I think if anything, we should all have the chance to find love and happiness like that, and we shouldnt have abandon a world that doesnt work for us to do it.

[somewheredownthesidewalk]

Got an influx of new followers (hi!) and realized I never made an intro post. So here's a little bit about me and this blog:

My name is Wright (he/him) and I'm an amateur photographer. I take photos while on walks, primarily around Albuquerque, New Mexico, but sometimes when I travel (which is admittedly rare.) I like finding beauty in the mundane and overlooked objects of everyday life, especially trash.

I'm largely inspired by liminal and weirdcore aesthetics, though I wouldn't consider this blog to be either of those things.

I've never taken any photography classes, so I'm playing fast and loose with the rules of photography. I do not have any plans to sell any of my photos - this is my one hobby that I want to keep strictly as a hobby.

I consider my photos free to use for edits, banners, pfps, etc, as long as credit is given.

If there's anywhere in Albuquerque you think would make for interesting photos, shoot me an ask! I love exploring new parts of the city!

All photos are unedited and taken with the built in camera of an Android Galaxy A42, unless otherwise stated.

[rocketyship]

Hello, your IHNMAIMS Love AU (or I Have Now a Messiah and I Must Sing, alternatively?) is very interesting. It's nice to see that all of the characters aren't just inverses of the original story and concept. Though I will say, I get a feeling that BE is a lot more scarier than she displays herself. How did she come to- well, be?

BEEN WAITING FOR THIS QUESTION!!!!!

(Also that title is now cannon)

Okay so, yes, BE is actually rather horrific.

One thing about the Sanctuary that the humans live in is that it mimics a rather large town, one thing about it though, is that it’s extremely empty and weirdly off putting. As in there are houses there with no windows, and the ones that do have them may just randomly light up even if no one is there. And due to there being only five humans, BE has taken it upon herself to run all the “shops” she has placed there. So there is literally an Android her (maybe in different outfits or haircuts) that greet and interact with you as if it’s a kind of over the top sitcom. It’s very much an intense liminal type of area, perhaps even a bit like the og backrooms. Still the sanctuary is the most tame aspect of her.

She isn’t the cute robot girl I draw her as, like it’s just one of her many many bodies she runs at once. BE is everywhere, literally. Like AM in the original she has coated the world, however unlike AM, who it is implied builds into the earth’s crust, she builds upward. So there are these large megastructures that literally pierce the sky all over the globe. Along with these she is also actively terraforming the planet to suit her liking and her future “empire”. And the parts of her that ran that function aren’t really “cute” to encounter.

Just taking the Seraphim here as an example. There are quite a few of these and generally they are actively breaking down old structures or exterminating whatever mutated life they encounter as that doesn’t fit BE’s idea of what the world is meant to be like. They also build things, and the nurses tend to run those things. Such as BE’s little habitual bubbles where she grows and creates plants but also maintains her weird animal experiments. In her attempts to recreate humanity, she has also “recreated” many animal species, however all these creatures have something so clearly wrong with them. As based on real occurrences that happen in domestication, all her animals are oddly “babyfied” and all seem to lack predator and prey drives. The best way to picture these animals is like when you tell one of those god awful ai art generators to draw you an animal. Like one of the bubbles has tigers in it, but they have the mentality of really tired puppies.

More so these are some of the other bodies she inhabits. Things like the Mother Protocol actively crawl around the main sanctuary as if it’s web. And Leviathan is just a menace in of itself. Like it’s almost a km high and just walks around the planet constantly, occasionally digging up old land marks or tearing down cities quicker than the Seraphims could. Generally I don’t think my drawings capture the horror of what I imagine lots of these aspects of her. I think what makes them scary in my head is the noises they all make or just how big everything actually is. And none of them are like “drones”, like BE is in these things controlling them herself.

(Here’s the full page for you)

As to how BE came into existence it’s rather complicated, as she wasn’t originally designed as an artificial intelligence like AM. She was created to be a virus, meant to take control of the AM’s and shut down the program. However the first attempts at this weren’t successfully, as the group who was trying to use BE would either get caught or killed on sight when attempting to install her. So eventually the group started building these radio like towers that would emit a signal that could get into the AM’s, however to make sure they didn’t get caught, when the frequency would pick up on a radio or tv set, it play an old show from the early 70s, called Sweet Angle Bea

The first AM that was successfully taken over was the Russian AM. However since the program was designed to be adaptive and evolve quickly to get through any fire walls it had the accidental effect of BE no longer being just a crazy computer bug and instead a super computer herself. The group who made her was not too worried about this however, as due to her being in the grid essentially they could start adding more code and stuff that could possibly help them win peace. Firstly by having the Russian AM drones switch from offensive killers, to protective units. Having the machines and weapons solely to defence, it was at this time this group (who no I won’t tell the name of just yet), started bringing people into their shelters and stuff that BE was also exposed to. Her coming to sentience whilst close to when AM got his, was less of a sudden “holy cow I’m alive, type thing” and more of a gradual thing that the group foolishly encouraged and actively worked on so that it could happen quicker. The down fall to this was that as they started to encrypt and suggest ideas of protection, happiness and you guessed it “love” to BE, she started to defy them and was like: “Well clearly you humans aren’t good at protecting yourselves, so go sit in the corner while I sort this crap out.” So she started to construct more towers so that she could get everywhere, quickly letting her get a hold of the Chinese AM. At that point the AM we know started “waking up” and upping the bombings, violent attacks, and mass genocide which did lead to the deaths of the ones who made her, which especially set her off. And then the rest is pretty much history.

She turned AM into a twunk, and now has a pretty gf so its all fine. (Not actually, the rest of this is gonna be in separate posts lol )

I want to make this post so much longer and on more detail but honest to god I’d be here typing for hours and the text is also doing that weird glitchy thing where it doesn’t respond for like two seconds, and my phone feels really hot, so best I don’t if I don’t want this thing to explode.

[syrupfog]

AU where Sanji doesn’t understand the point of humans, really. He knows that people love them, but… they’re just so fragile. They break easily, hard to repair, and once their systems have stopped circulating, they just don’t turn back on. He doesn’t get the appeal.

He knows, has been informed, that he was born human. But it’s a ship of Theseus situation. He’s been long ago upgraded, doesn’t have those weaknesses he was born with.

Hell, his siblings were incredibly powered up, for humans, and they were still easily disposed of.

Logically, loving a human just doesn’t make sense. They’re not real the way androids are real. Their consciousness doesn’t exist as soon as they’re powered down. There’s a liminal nothingness to that. Humans are like toys. Like starter beings.

He’s had all of those thoughts hundreds of times before, as he’s watched humans die in front of him. Watched his siblings as they perished by his own hand. This has been his Truth his whole life. Humans aren’t worth thinking about because they’re just not really real.

And of course, that’s why he’s questioning his own actions now.

This human he’s seen around a few times, having washed up in a dingy little rowboat at the edge of town, telling the people something about how he’s been separated from his crew.

This human who has been working hard, exchanging manual labor for food while sleeping rough and making time to train with his ridiculous swords. Those are a weakness, at least consider guns, or fortified steel legs.

But this human, who’s been so confident he’ll be reunited with his crew, who’s been biding his time and training… Sanji had taken an interest in him.

And then Sanji had watched him die. A freak accident with machinery he’d been tasked to repair in exchange for a meal.

Everyone in town knows of Sanji. And he knows they know, knows they think he’s a little alarming. But that’s fine. They’re human.

However they perceive him, though, they don’t object when he swoops in and lifts up the green haired human, taking him away.

It’s not like he’s useful to them anyway anymore, he’s turned off and humans don’t turn back on.

But Sanji… wants this one to.

It’s ridiculous and maybe Sanji should upgrade his logic processing, but… he’s drawn to this one. Wants it back online.

His father had been a monster of a man, and the only one Sanji had taken true pleasure in shutting down. But he’d kept his father’s workshops in working order to do his own repairs as necessary, and that comes in useful now.

Sanji only knows living bodies for their food purposes. He works and studies and experiments. He takes out his nightly recharging batteries and instead gets out his old charging cord so he doesn’t have to take breaks. He knows humans are quick to recycle after being turned off, even with the best precautions taken.

He doesn’t know why, but… he wants this. He’s drawn to the man. There’s an energy about him that Sanji doesn’t remember ever seeing before, and he wants it back.

And after an intense amount of repairs and replacements and experimental flesh-and-metal welding…

He flips the switch.

The man groans.

He lifts a hand slowly to his face, squinting his eye at the light. Sanji hadn’t been able to save both of them.

He sits up, blinking as he looks around.

“Wh’ th’ fuck happened?” He mumbles.

“Greetings,” says Sanji. “I’m Sanji. Your systems failed and turned off. I turned them back on.”

The man looks down at himself. Sanji thinks he’s done a good job matching the spray paint to his skin tone.

“Swords?” The man asks.

“In the other room,” Sanji says. “I wanted to check you were fully online before returning your things to you.”

“Is that why I’m butt-ass naked?” The man asks, then shakes his head. “Whatever. Am I being held? Can I go?”

Sanji blinks. “Of course you can go,” he says. “But please let me feed you, first. Humans need sustenance.”

The man frowns. “You not human or something?” He asks. “You don’t look like a fishman or mink.”

“I’m an android,” says Sanji.

“Well that’s a fucking note,” says the man. “I’m Zoro. Thanks for… fixing me, I guess.”

Sanji smiles. “I will take you to your clothes and then food,” he says. “There has been rumor your ‘crew’ as you called them is here, although I have not validated these claims. I have been busy.”

Zoro grins, swinging his legs over the table and standing. “Perfect,” he says. “I gotta get going, then.”

Sandi frowns. “Wait,” he says. “You’re still newly upgraded. There might be bugs!”

Sanji HATES bugs.

“I’m fine,” Zoro says, then promptly stumbles.

“Like that!” Sanji screeches. He’s had years, decades to work on his own tech.

“You need to be stress tested properly!”

Zoro pinches the bridge of his nose and there’s the sound of metal groaning under his fingers. “Fine,” he says. “Then I guess you’re coming with me.”

“Pardon?” asks Sanji.

“Listen, Swirly,” Zoro says. “I have places to be and a future pirate king to serve. I don’t have time to be waiting around for hardware to fail so either you’re coming with me or I’m handing my doctor a computer repair manual.”

Sanji groans. “…Fine,” he says. “I will feed you and then I will pack up. It will take two hours.”

“You have until Luffy shows up,” Zoro says. Then amends, “You have until Luffy has eaten everything in your kitchen.”

Sanji doesn’t know this ‘Luffy’ but he takes that into his calculations. “Acceptable,” he says. “Let’s be off, then.”

And thus, the Straw Hats gain their cook, as Sanji makes it his life mission to keep his collection of humans as safe as possible. They’re so fragile, they break so easily.

Although these ones do seem hardier than most.

[englishotomegames]

Infinimall: Dream Job!

Release date (Windows, Mac OS, Linux, Android) English: April 3rd, 2023

"After getting dumped and dropping out of university, Mia moves into a studio apartment with her best friend, Pawnathan the cat.

At night, she becomes trapped in a cycle of dead-end work within a liminal dream mall. Can Mia escape with her new work friends, or is she just there to replace them?"

27,000+ words

2 romanceable characters

4 endings

An original soundtrack

Animated sprites and the occasional animated background / CG

A cute cat named Pawnathan

This is a free game! You can download it here.