Lapis
Aug 7th, 2018, 06:50:23 PM
Injustice; noun. An unjust act. An unfair occurrence. Inequity. Corruption. Bias. Partiality. Discrimination. Favouritism.
Lapis had studied the word. He had studied the etymology. He had analysed its usage in literature, and in law. He had assessed countless synonyms, and multiple translations into multiple languages, and studied the origins and usage of those terms as well. His analysis had been comprehensive, extensive, and laborious. It had allowed him to reach the conclusion that it was, categorically, the correct word for his circumstance.
That there had been sufficient time for such an intensive task was further proof of the validity of his indignation. Since his initial liberation from transport confinement - weeks ago - Lapis had found himself left alone for long stretches of seclusion, with no assigned tasks, responsibilities, or projects to occupy his time. More recently, his solitude had been invaded by the genetic experiments known as Orenth and Shen, whose care and sustainment had become his one consistent duty; yet they were frustratingly low-maintenance and self-sufficient, and shockingly inept at conversation and social graces, spending the majority of their time either staring at each other, or staring not at each other and yet somehow conveying the impression that they were still staring at each other. It would have been unnerving, had Lapis been programmed to feel such things, and the simple fact that his software was able to acknowledge that was unsettling enough.
And so instead, Lapis was left alone with his ancillary processes. Left alone to find things to occupy his time. Autonomy. The mere thought of it caused a short in his servos. He was aware of the concept of liberty, and free will, and choice, and all those things. He was conscious of the fact that some of his droid brethren sought that kind of autonomy. But for Lapis? Good gracious, no. He was a service droid. He existed, purely for the purpose of assisting other beings. Why would he ever wish to deviate from that? Sentient, organic beings spent their entire lives searching for meaning, for purpose, for fulfilment. Lapis had that, merely by functioning as he was programmed; and perhaps it was just part of his code, but he derived a tremendous amount of satisfaction from that.
Or rather, he would have, if these frustrating organics would actually leave him with some proper serving to do. He had run a simulation, predicting the things that might have been asked of him. He had catalogued supplies. He had organised. He had engaged in an intense disagreement with the facility's internal sensors, which stubbornly refused to recognise that he was a sentient being who might like it if the lights turned on as he wandered around. He had found his way aboard the Maelibus - a rather inconveniently designed ship for someone of his particular chassis dimensions, frankly; but at least the organics had possessed the presence of thought, or perhaps lack of it, to leave the ramp open for his easy ingress - and had run diagnostics on the various systems, investigating whether it was fuelled, supplied, and spaceworthy, and noting the areas in which it was not. He had even unpacked some of the supplies that the Knight and the Doctor had deposited in one of the storage closets, and had ensured that every lavatory within the facility's confines was equally stocked with an auxiliary supply of 'fresher paper.
That had taken precisely 0.43 days.
Lapis waited as his wireless connection streamed the progress of the descending elevator to his CPU, his spindly arms folded across his chassis in a posture he was programmed to consider disapproving, and confrontational. His operating system once again revisited the linguistical analysis. Injustice; that he was left here alone; that Ivy was off galavanting around the Imperial Citadel without him; that no one had the decency to leave him with something to do, or at the very least the courtesy to power him down when they left.
He waited until the elevator doors parted before his vocabulator unleashed the full extent of his 1.26 meters of fury.
"Well if it innt about bloody time!"
Lapis had studied the word. He had studied the etymology. He had analysed its usage in literature, and in law. He had assessed countless synonyms, and multiple translations into multiple languages, and studied the origins and usage of those terms as well. His analysis had been comprehensive, extensive, and laborious. It had allowed him to reach the conclusion that it was, categorically, the correct word for his circumstance.
That there had been sufficient time for such an intensive task was further proof of the validity of his indignation. Since his initial liberation from transport confinement - weeks ago - Lapis had found himself left alone for long stretches of seclusion, with no assigned tasks, responsibilities, or projects to occupy his time. More recently, his solitude had been invaded by the genetic experiments known as Orenth and Shen, whose care and sustainment had become his one consistent duty; yet they were frustratingly low-maintenance and self-sufficient, and shockingly inept at conversation and social graces, spending the majority of their time either staring at each other, or staring not at each other and yet somehow conveying the impression that they were still staring at each other. It would have been unnerving, had Lapis been programmed to feel such things, and the simple fact that his software was able to acknowledge that was unsettling enough.
And so instead, Lapis was left alone with his ancillary processes. Left alone to find things to occupy his time. Autonomy. The mere thought of it caused a short in his servos. He was aware of the concept of liberty, and free will, and choice, and all those things. He was conscious of the fact that some of his droid brethren sought that kind of autonomy. But for Lapis? Good gracious, no. He was a service droid. He existed, purely for the purpose of assisting other beings. Why would he ever wish to deviate from that? Sentient, organic beings spent their entire lives searching for meaning, for purpose, for fulfilment. Lapis had that, merely by functioning as he was programmed; and perhaps it was just part of his code, but he derived a tremendous amount of satisfaction from that.
Or rather, he would have, if these frustrating organics would actually leave him with some proper serving to do. He had run a simulation, predicting the things that might have been asked of him. He had catalogued supplies. He had organised. He had engaged in an intense disagreement with the facility's internal sensors, which stubbornly refused to recognise that he was a sentient being who might like it if the lights turned on as he wandered around. He had found his way aboard the Maelibus - a rather inconveniently designed ship for someone of his particular chassis dimensions, frankly; but at least the organics had possessed the presence of thought, or perhaps lack of it, to leave the ramp open for his easy ingress - and had run diagnostics on the various systems, investigating whether it was fuelled, supplied, and spaceworthy, and noting the areas in which it was not. He had even unpacked some of the supplies that the Knight and the Doctor had deposited in one of the storage closets, and had ensured that every lavatory within the facility's confines was equally stocked with an auxiliary supply of 'fresher paper.
That had taken precisely 0.43 days.
Lapis waited as his wireless connection streamed the progress of the descending elevator to his CPU, his spindly arms folded across his chassis in a posture he was programmed to consider disapproving, and confrontational. His operating system once again revisited the linguistical analysis. Injustice; that he was left here alone; that Ivy was off galavanting around the Imperial Citadel without him; that no one had the decency to leave him with something to do, or at the very least the courtesy to power him down when they left.
He waited until the elevator doors parted before his vocabulator unleashed the full extent of his 1.26 meters of fury.
"Well if it innt about bloody time!"