[open] starve the ego, feed the soul

[auramatic]

Who| Drift and YOU!
What| Meet the new 20 foot tall shape-changing robot in town. He's pretty friendly.
Where| All around Legion World, Drift's biome, the training gym
Warnings/Notes| n/a

This is all...a lot. The last thing Drift remembers before waking up here was being in his shuttle, far, far away from the ship he'd been exiled from. Voluntarily exiled, because no one else could have taken the fall -- it had to be him. For everyone else's sake. And so he'd been alone, stripped of his Autobrand and adrift in the stars, looking for...something.

And now he's here, and he's wondering if this was what he was looking for. He took the oath almost immediately, because being asked to help save not just a world, but every world? Primus must have sent him here for a reason -- this reason -- why else would he be here? This must be some sort of chance at redemption, right? He doesn't really know if he deserves it, but hey, he's not going to argue against the will of a creator god. He just...has to have faith.

a. wandering around
Drift hasn't been around this many organics in...a while, not since he was last on Earth. It's kind of wild to think he's jumped a thousand years into the future. Humans seem to be doing pretty alright these days. He had forgotten how weird it was to be this much bigger than most people around him, though. At least he's got his swords. All three of them. It is a comfort.

He's milling around Legion World once he's settled in enough, getting his bearings. It's massive here, and there's a lot to see -- and where the space is wide enough, he'll be driving instead of walking. He hasn't had a chance to stretch his t-cog and drive around in his alt mode for a while, but despite the flashy sports car appearance, he is moving at a reasonably polite speed.

b. biome
Drift's biome is a little slice of Cybertron. It might not look very hospitable to organics -- it's cyberformed rather than terraformed, ideal for a race of sentient alien robots, but while the vast plains and jagged hills might look barren and cold to humans, it's basically the heart of nature for Drift. His biome is mostly untamed, open wilderness, though there's a building he's made a home for himself, complete with a designated meditation space in the style of Spectralism (read: very New Age-y). He's happy to greet anyone coming by, but if he's keeping to himself, it's almost definitely because he's meditating. Or trying, anyway.

c. training gym
It has not occurred to Drift that it might not be very polite to practice with swords in the gym considering how much space a 20 foot tall robot takes up, but he has at least placed him as far in a corner away from other fellow gym-goers so as not to get in their way. He could be doing sword kata back in his biome, sure, but he's spent...a lot of time alone in the last few months. Being around other people, even total strangers, is preferable background noise to the deafening silence of solitude.

He is pretty absorbed in his robot kata, though, going through the motions with a sword in each hand, though he'll stop to chat if anyone catches his attention. He has a third sword strapped to his back, apparently not currently in use, and if you are wondering if this guy really needs to be carrying three swords at all times: yes. Yes, he does.

d. wildcard!
[ feel free to hit me up at runawayballista to plot things! ]

Comments

[thebioticwoman]

"Yeah, he disappeared. Sometimes it happens, but no one's gotten a straight answer about why from the Time Trapper. Or any answer, actually." She shrugs. Shepard is not a woman who inquires deeply into the mysteries of reality when there are omnicidal abominations to be fought.

"He was about your height, white and black...paint job?" Her voice rises slightly in an implicit question about terminology, since she doesn't know if that's what you call a giant robot's color scheme. "He turned into a ground car--neat trick, by the way."

[auramatic]

Alright, Drift is just a little bit relieved that Prowl isn't here. The loneliness of being the only one of your kind around isn't great, but you know? Better than Prowl. If Drift holds anyone other than himself accountable for what happened with Overlord, it's Prowl.

"Sounds about right." So...let's talk about something other than Prowl. Drift's optics brighten slightly with a smile. "My alt mode's a car, too. It's pretty common among Cybertronians."

He crouches down a little, because it seems like the courteous thing to do, although Drift doesn't really remember how humans usually greet each other.

"My name is Drift."

[thebioticwoman]

Handshakes, but that's a bit impractical even with the stooping, so Shepard doesn't offer. She does straighten back up to a more formal posture, less for the extra few centimeters than the courtesy factor. Man, this must be what volus feel like constantly.

"Shepard. Sentinel if you're looking me up on the team roster." No relation to a certain crappy Prime, probably. "Welcome aboard, Drift."

Drift would have to be an unusually suspicious soul to doubt that he is indeed welcome, because Shepard firmly believes it, and also firmly believes her word is law even if she doesn't quite realize that what she believes. Technically she's not in command here, sure, but once learned, the habit of authority never entirely goes away.

[auramatic]

Shepard does have a natural authority about her that registers with Drift -- the kind of authority you can rely on. Drift is warmed by the welcome, sincere as it is, and his smile brightens. After the last few months, it's nice to feel welcome anywhere, even in such an unfamiliar place as this.

"Thank you, Shepard. Pleased to meet you." Drift tips his head in greeting at her. "Are you a native of this world? Or were you brought here, too?"

[thebioticwoman]

"I'm a transplant," she replies, unconsciously reaching up to brush her fingers across the Legion logo on the breast of her shirt, where there would usually be an N7. "Most of the team is. Mostly human too, but there are a few other synthetics kicking around."

'Synthetic' isn't a pejorative when she says it. If Drift had met her earlier in her life it might have been, but this Shepard has served with machine intelligences on the hardest mission of her career, a mission that would not have succeeded without her inorganic crew members. They would lay down their lives for their crewmates as readily as any organic would, and for her part, Shepard no longer toes the Citadel party line about the inescapable dangers of AI and other synthetics.

[auramatic]

"You mean inorganics?" Drift says, one not-eyebrow lifted slightly. He isn't offended, at least not as much as some other bots (Rodimus) might be, but hey -- words are important. Names are important. "Cybertronians aren't exactly synthetic. But I'm guessing these others are?"

[thebioticwoman]

"Sure, if that's what you go by," Shepard replies easily. She could get pedantic about those silicon-based people with all the branches and no carbon atoms she'd met doing publicity junkets, but she gets the feeling strict adherence to terminological accuracy is not the actual issue.

"There are some AIs and a robot about my size." Who she guesses is also technically an AI, but frankly this is more thought than she'd put into the subdivisions of machine sentients before. "If you don't mind me asking, what's the problem with 'synthetic?'"

[auramatic]

Drift vents out a little sigh. "You know what almost always comes up in the first fifteen minutes of conversation with organics? 'Who built you?' But we're not anyone's creations -- we evolved just like all other sentient life out there. Synthetic tends to carry that connotation. You say inorganic...it's just another kind of life form. We're not even the only robotic species in my world."

[thebioticwoman]

"You evolved?" Shepard asks, rhetorically but not really dubiously. She has no idea how that's supposed to work, granted, but she's a marine, not a biologist. Or whatever it is you call someone who studies naturally-occurring robots. "I have a friend who would just love to meet you."

Probably. She thinks Tali's over the reflexive anti-machine prejudice by now, at least.

[auramatic]

"Millions and millions of years ago," Drift confirms. He tilts his head in curiosity, optics brightening. Making more friends around here would be good. He knows he's been starved for company since leaving the Lost Light, and even there, he hadn't exactly had many people who were willing to spend time with him. But here...the organics are surprisingly friendly. He's actually starting to feel like he might belong here. He hasn't felt that in a while.

"Oh?"

[thebioticwoman]

"Yeah, back home." So introductions are gonna have to wait, sorry. "She loves sophisticated machines--" Oh, damn. Back up a second. "Uh. Is 'machines' okay?"

They don't have cultural sensitivity training regarding giant space robots in Alliance officer school, okay.

[auramatic]

Drift is trying not to nitpick labels too hard, but this always seems to come up with organics. He offers Shepard a sort of apologetic smile.

"Let's just stick to inorganics for Cybertronians, huh?" No hard feelings, Shepard, really. "What kind of machines does your friend work with?"

[thebioticwoman]

Noted. Shepard nods. She'll even correct other people on it now.

"Spaceships mostly, but she's been making friends with an AI we picked up a few missions back." And it's all very heartwarming, though she has no intention of getting into the quarian-geth thing unless asked.

[auramatic]

"Do you deal much in artificial intelligence in your world?" That would explain the whole synthetic bias thing. Drift lowers himself into a cross-legged sitting position, leaning against the wall. It's probably a little easier on Shepard's neck.

[thebioticwoman]

She wasn't gonna say anything, but thanks buddy.

"It's...a political powder keg," Shepard says with a sigh, rubbing her forehead. "The official position of the organic majority is that AI is inherently dangerous. It's not true, but AI research is illegal."

[auramatic]

"Ah." Drift offers a sympathetic smile. The universal pain in the ass that is politics. He was never one much for them himself.

"Dangerous how? And why do you disagree?" He waves a hand. "I've never encountered one before myself."

[thebioticwoman]

Shepard's ignoring the surreal sensation of being the one on the receiving end of a lot of questions. She is a professional.

"The idea is that we could have nothing they'd possibly want, and they'd always be fighting feelings of inferiority for being created, so they'd inevitably turn on their makers." Shepard shakes her head with a sigh and a frown. "That says more about the organics coming up with the doomsday scenarios than it does about the synthetics, if you ask me."

[auramatic]

Drift hums in agreement. "No shortage of imagination there. Our collective fears always manifest themselves in the face of the unknown. I'm curious, though...why do organics pursue artificial intelligence? I don't mean the pros and cons, or can versus should. I mean -- why the interest in the first place? What's the draw?"

[thebioticwoman]

"Why do we do anything?" Shepard asks rhetorically, spreading her arms into a wide shrug. "Because we're curious."

[auramatic]

"Heh." Drift vents out a half-sigh, half-laugh. "Yeah, I think that's pretty universal. I guess organics would have much more to be curious about when it comes to artificial intelligence than inorganics."

He leans back and rests his arms over his knees, looking pensive. "I'd like to say we turned our efforts inward, working to improve ourselves rather than create something new...but the truth is, I think we've been fighting for so long that we've lost sight of that."

[thebioticwoman]

"Is there a war on back home? It seems like we get a lot of soldiers pulled in here."

The swords strike her as weird for any kind of war featuring half-decent projectile weapons, but hey. What does she know about how you hold a war where Drift's from?

[auramatic]

Drift shakes his head. "Not anymore, there isn't, technically speaking. It ended not too long ago...but it went on for four million years, and the status quo before that wasn't exactly the golden age. But most of us have been soldiers for most -- or all -- of our lives. A lot of people are still adjusting to life after the war."

[thebioticwoman]

Shepard mouths 'four million' in shock. The 50,000 years since the extinction of the Protheans feels like an immense gulf. Four million years predates the evolution of humans as a species. The enormity of a war stretching that long is unimaginable.

"...How long do you live?"

[auramatic]

"Quite a while," Drift says with a shrug, spreading an open palm. "I was forged a little before the war, but I know some bots who are over six million years old. Depending on what creation myths you believe in -- although I object to the term myth -- it's said that the destruction of the deity Mortilus the Death-bringer by the rest of the Guiding Hand allowed our sparks to burn indefinitely. We can technically die of old age, or at least conditions brought on by it, but...the lifespan of your average Cybertronian was a lot shorter during the war."

[thebioticwoman]

"You personally have been fighting for four million years?"

The idea that something could live that long isn't what gets her; the Reapers are at least ten times that old. It's that he seems remarkably laid back for being an ancient war robot.