legionworld | [open] Cortana gets a robobody

Entry tags:

[open] Cortana gets a robobody

Who| Cortana & anyone
What| She got a body oh god like she wasn't bad enough when she couldn't touch things
Where| Various locations on Legion World
When| After Out With the Old
Warnings/Notes| none, will edit if that changes

Cortana had decided, perhaps not entirely without calculation, that the Legion's policy on accepting small favors meant it was fine if she jumped the queue at the body shop.

The literal body shop, mind you.

Projecting from her chip, Cortana looked at herself. A larger version of her hologram, solid and correspondingly lacking the decorative lines of scrolling code, looked back at her, sort of. Absent her control, the eyes focused on nothing and the body might as well have been a statue.

Well, time to get this show on the road. She reached out to the body across the data connection, and it reached out to her with its hand, picking up the datachip. Her hologram disappeared, and the body slotted its mind into place, the chip nestling into the base of the skull the same way it would in Mjolnir, and suddenly the body came alive, Cortana's consciousness turning it from an uncanny mannequin into a person.

Human senses. How...limited. Couldn't even see IR or hear radio. No wonder they needed AI so badly. Still, it felt familiar, Dr. Halsey's donated neural patterns taking over without Cortana having to think about it. Saved her having to learn to walk, at least. ...Probably.

She tried an experimental circuit of her quarters and didn't immediately go sprawling, her fingers trailing along tabletops and walls as she walked. The odd new experience of a blind spot made her strangely self-conscious despite knowing the door was locked and she was safe. Resisting the urge to query the door circuits via the network, she instead picked up one of her collection of Master Chief action figures, bending its right arm into a salute.

"Heh." Now he was the tiny one.

Never one to dally, Cortana put the miniature Chief back with his fellow toys. Time for a shakedown. She unlocked the door--with her hand--and set out into Legion World, a slightly-built woman with inhuman blue-white skin, gazing at everything as if seeing it for the first time.

Hab Deck

As she had immediately after arriving on Legion World, Cortana explored the various zones of the Habitation Deck. This time, she used a body to do it, wandering the forest and beaches and city streets physically. She touched brickwork, let sand trickle through her fingers, stopped and literally smelled the flowers. Fascinated and untiring, she paid no attention to whether she was trespassing, her attention fixed instead on the new sensations, and the strangeness of remembering them even as she felt them for the first time.

The Mess

In theory, she had a sense of taste. In practice, she had no idea what she was supposed to do with it. For lack of a better idea, endless memories of Dr. Halsey's abandoned mugs of coffee scattered across the base led her to order that, and she stared down into the brown liquid dubiously. The smell struck her as pleasant, at least.

The fact that she was standing there in the way of anyone else who wanted a drink, scrutinizing a perfectly ordinary cup of coffee like it was a particularly abstruse math problem didn't occur to her.

Observation Deck

Ignoring Earth for the view of the stars, Cortana finally understood why people could say they felt small without seeming to mind it. Later, maybe she could go EVA and see them without the noise. For the moment, she was content to lean on the railing and pick out the stars by name. Just luck the southern constellations were the ones visible at that point in Legion World's orbit, and Eridanus, the river of starlight, glowed in the night, its light steady without the interference of a planetary atmosphere.

"Alpha, Chi, Phi, Kappa..."

Even Cortana at her most poetic didn't have any use for the Arabic names.

Wildcard

It's Cortana, she's probably getting into trouble.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Babbage had finally worn her down, and now Cortana was bowling, a singularly pointless activity involving ugly shoes that Babbage liked because, as nearly as she could tell, he was at his core a very boring person. It was exceedingly odd and not pleasant to have to consider a mere four kilos a meaningful load--for the Master Chief, it wasn't even noticeable--yet here she was, listing slightly to the right from the weight of the ball, and arguing with herself. She could either trust Dr. Halsey's skills to use the new body, which in anything resembling an athletic context would be a grave mistake, or she could retreat from a direct awareness of the physical form, treating it instead as the same sort optimization problem she faced when supplementing the Chief. Even Cortana realized the latter would defeat the purpose...but given her extensive knowledge of the kinematics and dynamics of human anatomy, it also made it much more likely she'd win.

What a conundrum.

Being in a robot herself, Tex doesn't have to feed herself, or sleep, though she does have to take the time to recharge every day. But right now she's on patrol, just to take some time doing something other than training, when she runs across the observation deck. The person she finds inside seems to be staring at the stars with fascination. She watches for just a moment, then approaches, standing by the woman's side.

"You know the names of all of them?" she asks. "I never really bothered to learn."

"I have the complete UNSC navigational database," she says, almost dreamy. Cortana doesn't really understand learning, not where facts or figures are concerned. She understands knowing, new data flowing into her as simply and inexorably as mass seeks the bottom of a gravity well. She has to consciously avoid acquiring information. How could she not know the names and galactic coordinates of every star, even the ones these limited eyes couldn't see?

"Reach is in that constellation." Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Tex's knockoff Mjolnir, her current human senses not identifying it as a robot body like her own. "In our universes, anyway."

Tex understands being programmed, understands simply knowing what she's meant to know, but in her database everything she was programmed with involves how to best kill, how to punch, how to maim. Knowledge of things like the stars isn't innate for her.

Somehow, she's not surprised to hear references to the UNSC, or to Reach. There have been enough people she's run into here that came from her universe. The fact that the woman refers to having a complete database leads to one simple conclusion, though— "You're an AI," she says.

"Cortana," she says by way of confirmation. "And you're a Freelancer."

Her voice is more focused, though her eyes are still fixed on the stars. She knows what Freelancers look like, and despite her current mostly-human appearance, Cortana still runs on AI time. Tex has her attention as much as the sky does--which is not necessarily something Tex wants, since Cortana's opinion of Project Freelancer is low enough to be called subterranean.

"I think you know more about me than I know about you," she says. "Were you on a ship, back home?" That's the usual use of AIs in the UNSC, not to be paired with individual soldiers like AIs in Freelancer were—and certainly not to be tortured and split the way Church was.

"And I'm Tex," she adds, not volunteering the fact that in addition to being a Freelancer, she's also an AI.

"Occasionally, when my partner was on ice." If Tex thinks that's unusual for a full smart AI, she's right. It's a waste of their talents. "Texas, hmm? Was there much competition for that one?"

Cortana has no idea how they came by their code names, but she assumes they were assigned.

"No," she says. "Not at all." She's right about the names being assigned—and Tex's had been reserved for her for who knows how long. She's not one to volunteer much information about herself, so she doesn't explain about the code name, or about her creation, or her status as an AI. Instead she studies the stars Cortana had been watching upon her arrival.

"Were you paired with a soldier?" she asks then. That seems to follow from what she'd said about having a partner.

For the moment finished with scrutinizing the sky, Cortana turns her attention to Tex and the familiar profile of that helmet as she picks up stargazing where Cortana left off. She considers hitting Tex's IFF (and the network) for details, but decides to stick to her self-imposed restriction of human senses only.

"Spartan-117," she says, waiting for the reaction. So far, it's proved instructive in the other Freelancers

"Oh," she says. That designation is fairly familiar, especially to someone like her who thought she had a chance of helping the war come to an end. "Figures he had a partner." She pauses, not looking at Cortana as she continues: "Good."

After all, she might have some sour grapes that her intervention isn't what brought things to a close, but things did come to a close, and that's what matters.

Cortana is here. This is odd for a number of reasons starting with since when does Cortana have a corporeal form and ending with why would Cortana have coffee?

But the Chief doesn't ask any of these questions when he comes up to her.

He'll figure it out.

"It just tastes bad," he says, pointing toward the cup with his chin.

John-117. Spartan. Legionnaire. Food critic.

Cortana looks up from her coffee, smiling. It's not as far as usual. In fact, if he sits down, she'd be taller for once. She might let this newfound ability to come up behind him and put her hands over his eyes go to her head.

"Dr. Halsey likes it." That's where all the rest of her sense-memories come from; it seemed like a good place to start.

Well, that's true. John saw her with it often enough, growing up on Reach. Maybe it's possible for a smart AI to inherit a taste from their donor. But that would require...

"Do you have a sense of taste, now?"

It seems like an odd inclusion on a robot, if so. ...But it would be on par with the 31st century's apparent priorities.

Not everything is about war, Chief.

Yeah, Cortana's having problems with that one, too.

"I have a sense of smell. They'd better have gotten the tongue working, too." She shrugs, sending the coffee sloshing perilously close to the rim of the mug before she catches herself and checks the motion, a little chagrined. Cortana could have machine-perfect control, but she'd have to think about it rather than using Halsey's muscle memory, and while her "mother" isn't clumsy, she's certainly no Spartan.

Well, there's one easy way to reduce the chances of spilling--decrease the volume of coffee in the cup. She raises the mug to salute the Chief, and takes a drink.

Of a just below boiling liquid.

"Ahh!" Cortana manages not to spit coffee everywhere or drop the mug, but it's a near thing. "I didn't put pain receptors in the spec!"

The Chief doesn't quite laugh, but there's an amused huff of breath as he clamps down on the reflex. Cortana, ever-precise, does need time to adjust to new hardware.

At least she hasn't dumped him on his head, this time.

"Are you alright?"

Edited (not quite department of redundancy department but close) 2017-03-13 03:55 (UTC)

Look. Look. Anyone could have reversed the sign on those coordinates. His head is hard enough the landing barely mattered.

"I'm fine. You could drop my chip in a pot of coffee and it wouldn't slow me down. It's not even a hundred degrees."

Since when is a temperature that low something she personally needs to worry about? Cortana feels so betrayed, though by what is an open question. 31st century robotics? The laws of physics? The mere existence of limitations?

Probably all of the above. It is Cortana, after all.

Should Cortana's wanderings take her deep enough through a patch of thick, tall trees, she'll come across a cabin by a small lake. Wouldn't be the first time someone's come through Connie's patch of the woods, and after that last mission she's been spending most of her time there. By all means it had been a successful mission...too bad it had so many unpleasant reunions.

There's a fire going in the pit out front of the Cabin and Connie's curled up on a chair pulled close, a small pile of wood and pieces of hose at her side to keep the fire going. And occasionally turn the flames into pretty shades of purple and green. She lifts her head at the sound of approaching footsteps, quirking a brow at the familiar but much larger than she remembers figure of Cortana emerging from the trees.

"Out for a stroll?"

It's a temperate forest, the air carrying the memory of rain in a way Reach's Highlands in her zone never would, and Cortana runs her fingers across the bark of the enormous trees, understanding for the first time the concept of humidity as something other than percentages and corrosion factors.

Navigating by smell is maddeningly imprecise, but for want of any other agenda she follows the scent of smoke as best she can, unconcerned. If it were dangerous, Legion staff would already be responding to douse the flames. Probably just someone camping the way the Chief does when he wants a break.

"I think it turned into a hike while I wasn't paying attention." Fortunately, robot bodies never tire. Cortana picks her way along the rocky shore to join Connie at the fire. "Nice piece of real estate."

"Thanks. Thought I deserved someplace nice."

Connie gestures to the other empty chair by the fire, an open invitation if Cortana would like to join her for a bit but she's not one to force anybody to stop their wander for a conversation. Not that Connie wouldn't appreciate a little company...and she is more than a little impressed with the body Cortana's been outfitted with.

"Given the diverse habitats on the deck I don't blame you for wanting to stretch your legs a little," figuratively and literally, "See anything fun along the way?"

"New York City stops being fun after about the third version of it." Especially the primitive New York so many of the Legionnaires seem to favor.

Cortana takes the offered seat, looking at the fire rather than Connie. It's her first time experiencing one as anything other than a weapon or threat. She holds her hand out to the flames, feeling the heat instead of simply knowing the temperature.

It's a low, low whistle, let out from where she sits across the way, chin in her hands and legs tucked up under her in her aerodynamic space-seat. Picking away at a little vegetable chip mix like it's only half-holding her attention.

Which, considering the view, isn't exactly surprising.

"Oye mija— looks like somebody got an upgrade."

And oh, what an upgrade it is...

"Turns out something that would set the UNSC back a few billion credits is consumer goods around here." Cortana strolls over to where Sombra's seated...and steals a chip. She's gone mad with power.

"Is it real?"

And for that question, Sombra predictably reaches out a few taloned little fingers to try and touch Cortana's forearm as she swoops in to steal a chip. Maybe an omnic frame's lurking under that blue skin, or maybe it's a convincing projection— either way, she doesn't mind.

Seems almost familiar somehow, aside from the fact that Cortana's already a (fondly) familiar face.

Cortana's chosen to look like her hologram, slender and seemingly unathletic, a build anyone who watched her Legion Legacy would recognize as belonging to Catherine Halsey. The swagger, however, is entirely of Cortana's own devising.

Through the high-tech-looking blue and white skintight suit she's wearing--she's devoted to her aesthetic--the skin on Cortana's arm yields the way a human's would, Sombra's fingers feeling bone beneath, though it's far more likely to be titanium than calcium.

"It's robotic," she confirms, allowing the touch. They've already been much closer than a bit of a poke, really, and for Cortana, it's more like someone kicking the tires of her new car than invading her personal space. "Hard light has limited sensory feedback."

"So." Sombra starts, curious and (somewhat) reverent in her every movement, still keeping that point of contact a constant. "You can feel this?"

Even taste the chip she's chewing on, maybe?

It's a fascinating concept (and not as far fetched as it might be for someone else, considering how common implants and cybernetics are back home - how necessary the are) considering the fixation Sombra's always had with technology, where it meets organic life. Merges together. Functions along the same lines.

"Ah, hi. Can I just scoot in here to get a cup of coffee, please?" Barry asks, carrying a tray piled high with spaghetti and not-meat balls. There's enough on the plate to feed a family, rather than just one person.

Cortana's used to people with ridiculous metabolisms, but the Chief is fifteen centimeters taller and maybe twice Barry's weight. If you're moving at speeds that shouldn't be possible, it'll burn a lot of calories, she supposes.

She edges out of his way, which puts her in front of the soda dispensers, but as long as she doesn't return to her coffee reverie, she'll probably remember she has a physical body that can block people from getting to things.

"Good work on that last op."

From Cortana, this absolutely counts as small talk.

Edited 2017-03-09 03:29 (UTC)

You come to see the strange and unusual on a fairly regular basis here. But there was something strangely familiar about the very-physical figure of a woman observing the stars from the deck.

He came here, from time to time, and had wandered here again after Luna had sprinted away from him to chase something or another. The small kitten now lay curled and snoozing in the crook of his arm as he approached, out of armor, regarding the woman with vague interest.

New, but not. Pity he's not much of a conversation starter.

Locus's status as a conversational brick wall is hardly an obstacle--everyone's met her partner. Even in her meditative state, Cortana's chatty enough for two.

It's distinctly odd, having to look at someone to identify them, her self-imposed hiatus from the network meaning Locus isn't both preceded and surrounded by clouds of data announcing his presence and a thousand things about him to which her current human senses make her deaf and blind.

Also, he has a cat.

All right, then.

"Hi, Locus." Cortana's voice is the same as ever.

"...Cortana."

Naturally. It must be. He recognizes her voice and even in physical form she looks startling similar to her AI projection. This must be some kind of synthetic body for her to wander around in, much like the miniaturized version Delta had uploaded himself into.

There's a brief moment of consideration before he gives a mild nod of his head.

"A new acquisition?"

76's general MO in the mess is to take what he needs and leave as soon as possible, but there's a hold up at the coffee machine, and it's quite clear where the problem is. Though he doesn't consider himself much of a people person anymore, but he didn't exactly get to where he is today without being at least a little perceptive. She's obviously taking some kind of issue with the mug in her hands--the question then, is what.

He gives her a few moments to ponder (maybe change her mind about holding up the line) before he speaks up.

"It ain't gonna bite you."

He hopes, anyway. All bets are off with some of this spacefuture stuff.

How can you expect her to pay attention to things behind her, Jack? Her field of view is barely more than 180 degrees right now!

Cortana looks up, blinking in a moment of surprise before she remembers where she is...and notices the line. Apparently people here are much more patient than UNSC personnel.

"Oh." She steps aside, allowing the flow of caffeine to resume unimpeded. "It's not that. I've just never had it before."

Or anything before.

76 gets his own cup and steps out of line beside her, still apparently interested enough in this scenario to stick around a little longer. He gives her an obvious once-over, but doesn't sip his own drink--he has to take off the mask for that, and he's not about to do it in the middle of the mess hall.

"Sounds tragic."

Coffee is more of a placebo for him, anyway (thanks, super soldier metabolism), but of course he finds this very curious, or at least intriguing enough not to leave immediately.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[open] Cortana gets a robobody

Take the robots bowling [closed to Team AI]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Hab Deck

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

attack of the missing notifs

The Mess

no subject

Observation Deck

no subject

no subject

mess

no subject

no subject