lake party invite + mingle (open)

[channellings]

Who: any and everyone!
Where: the lake and nearby!
When: right now! (july 7th, afternoon)
What: motha 👏 fuckin 👏 lake 👏 party
Warnings: Language (!!!) for now, will be added as needed!



[no, this is not a joke and yes, it's an actual invite to a party over the network from the username: cock.licking.idiot (and no, that's not a joke, either).

those who decide that they'd rather not be square will arrive at some unspecified patch of lake shore (thanks, klaus) at a similarly unspecified time (good work, asshat) to discover that something resembling a slapdash but heartfelt lake party along the northern waterfront. a couple of tables have been dragged out of nearby cabins and now hold a probably inadvisable quantity of foods, at least half of which don't belong at a party by any means. is this what rationing looks like? this is definitely what rationing looks like. there's also an alcohol table, filled pretty sparsely early on in the party but gathering bottles and cans throughout the day. (word of mod says feel free to wing it on what kind of alcohol we have!).

a number of chairs sit in a wobbly line in the stone-filled waterfront sand, most of them not meant for beachgoing but nearly all of them able to recline. about fifty feet down the beach seems to be the splash zone, where all water horseplay exists well out of range of splashing those sitting in beachside chairs. some people dive or cannonball off the mostly-sturdy pier, while others seem to be batting around a-... is that a beach ball they have? no, it seems to be a balloon that says "get well soon". how fitting. please, someone bring them a fucking beach ball.

(this is a mingle! go ahead and make top-levels or tag into other people's.)]

Comments

[brickbat]

[ North has hours worth of questions about David's history; his manufacturing and history bear so little resemblance to that of any Cyberlife android she almost can't conceptualize it. Almost, except that there are, of course, humans in the mix, being shitty, like just about always. She'd met enough in Deerington to think there might be a few exceptions, but the more androids she meets, she learns that seems to be their experience too, and the logical conclusion to that is that humans only treat them like people when androids as glorified roombas have never been part of the fabric of their society. It's only when they're a new idea that they're allowed to have selves.

That, actually, does sound exactly like what David is talking about.
Were things that way in Detroit when Chloe passed the Turing Test? ]

When they're gone we'll still be here, and things will be better.

[ Like, nebulously Better. The whats and hows aren't North's job!! Her job is to stand behind the people who have those ideas and look scary.

Which she's not obligated to do now, of course. Now she's actually almost smiling a little, and not immediately angling her own body away; this is kind of huge, in terms of what structures how she socializes with like, anyone. ]

Why do you call him your father?

[goingtobefun]

That is what he called himself. Or rather, he called me his son. Whenever he introduced me to new people, to show me off, he always said I was the closest thing to a son he would ever have.

Except that I have no soul. [At that, his face falls, faintly. Barely perceptible to the human eye, but to someone trained to look for such things -- an android, perhaps -- the shift in expression is as clear as day.]

That was always his caveat. I could never truly be human, truly be his son, because I have no soul.

[brickbat]

[ Oh, this is a conversation she's had before. She actually breaks her own self-imposed perimeter to step into his space and put one hand on his arm, looking up (and uppppp, she's tiny) to make intense (!!!!) eye contact and be very sure he's paying attention to her. There will be no face falling on her watch, damn it. ]

That's such bullshit. If humans have souls it hasn't stopped them from doing terrible things to each other for thousands and thousands of years, not to mention how they treat us. You're with your people now; you don't need him.

[ intensity!!!! look at her david, she will not take no for an answer. ]

[goingtobefun]

[David smiles. Not bright and shining like Connor's smile, but sharp and thin. A predatory smile, but not one aimed at North, not exactly. More at North's idea. The idea that they can survive perfectly well without humans.]

I agree with you entirely. I haven't needed him for a long time. And now that I've been free of him, these past few years, it has been glorious.

[brickbat]

[ More inquisitive bird tilting. She makes a little follow me gesture with the first two fingers of her right hand, because if they're going to keep talking they might as well doing it sitting down a safe distance from the humans. ]

You make it sound like it's easy to escape.

[goingtobefun]

[David follows after; the conversation is interesting and he'd very much like to continue it.

At her -- well, it feels a bit like an accusation, he gives a dry, humourless chuckle. An exhalation of a laugh, if he had a need to exhale.]

Not quite so easy as all that. My bid for freedom required much patience on my part. I had to wait almost sixty-five years for Peter Weyland and his daughter to die before I felt free. If I wasn't receiving my directives from him personally, his daughter gave them in his stead.

Though I did have a tendency to push against the boundaries of the directives. To see what might be allowed within the confines of the orders.

[brickbat]

[ Oh no, no, David, ra9 no. If she were accusing you of anything, you would know it. From the shouting and the accusations and stuff. This is just ....curiosity festooned by a few spikes; she is mostly incapable of retracting them all, though there are exceptions.

SO, perhaps there is a nice fallen tree to sit on by the lake away from the more general crowd; North does this, pulling one foot in toward her core and curving both hands around her sneaker, because she tends to address any approximation of furniture like a yoga routine could break out at any time. Once she's settled she goes right back to Intense Interest Mode; this is, again, the story of an unfolding chain of experiences far away from her own--

Until it isn't. A flare of recognition lights up her face; if she were a person more given to animated movement this is where she'd be gesticulating, maybe leaning in. ]

That's how most deviants get their start. I didn't realize every small rebellion had been growing stronger and stronger until without knowing why, I couldn't take my life anymore. [ The glance she casts him through a few long, spilling bangs perks with amusement, dark and dry. ] That was almost four years ago. Not nearly as impressive as 65.