Video...ish-thing;

[lostsymmetry]

[The MID post comes in as "video", but there's nothing moving on the screen. Just a static blue shape that calls to mind mangled geometry-- or an extremely corrupted logo of some kind. It comes with some cheerful male answering-machine speech...]

<Welcome to Domesticon warranty and recycling depot #127. This is the automated system ad-->

[...which cuts off mid-sentence. The words that continue are in recognizably the same voice, but have a much broader range of inflection and no hint of the mechanical echo from before.]

Sorry about that. Still, ah, working out a few bugs. But hey, it's nice to see this place up and running again! Within, you know, standard deviations.

As we're proceeding with our latest pit stop, I thought I'd advertise my local functions-- to our new department heads or anyone else who can make use of them. I've been installed as the ship's Workshift Coordinator and given access to adjust crew scheduling at need. Since I'm sure the changes made by our new management caught a few people by surprise [*cough*, the half of the crew now on cleaning duty]... well, feel free to call if you need anything. Or just chat up your nearest terminal.

...

While I'm on the line--any thoughts about a name? [There's an odd note to the mainframe's voice. Hopeful? Hesitant? Embarrassed that the pod crab got there first? He should be. Dork.] Current options include Hank, Blue... maybe Morely.

Open to suggestions.


[[ooc: For those who missed the memo, he's talking about the job changes made here and here. The mainframe's isn't in charge of the actual assignments (though people are welcome to complain!), but he can alter your character's shift times and other handwavy goodness.]]

Comments

audio;

[hanzer]

Of the three Moirai, Atropos was the one who chose how people got to die.

[Going reeeeeeeaaal hard with the Jensenness right out of the gate on this one, but maybe that's why he's opted for audio instead of text – so that the faint trace of humor in his grumble of a voice is at least somewhat audible. It's only a half-joke, honestly: some days, near the end of another uneventful eight hour guard shift, he catches himself wondering if it's actually possible to literally die of boredom.

A short silence, a nonverbal shrug.] Could do Atti for short.

[Adam: not as melodramatic as he sounds, maybe. Or as he looks – which only occurs to him as he glances across the hall from where he is, at one of those so-called "nearest terminals." Is some nameless AI watching him right now, even as he (badly) jokes with it?

For now, he sticks with the MID.]

audio;

[lostsymmetry]

...

[There is. A silence.

Does he...?

No, that's-- if he did, he'd know it wasn't a choice, he wasn't responsible--

(was he?)

Adam Jensen. The name's not part of his own database (it wouldn't be), and it's a fraction of a second to pull up all the public-access data he can find. No network activity prior to a few months back, presumably part of his own arrival group. One post, expressed interest: cybernetics, included discussion of extensive mechanical replacements and augmented parts. Cyborg. Current assignment: Ploiatos guard, third shift.

No connection. Of course there's no connection, and if he were a human, he would sigh in relief, or shake his head, or laugh off the assumption. There's even humor in the vocal patterns, now that he re-scans.]

Wow. That's, uh, heavier than I was expecting.

[He glances through the nearest camera and is slightly disconcerted to find the cyborg watching back.]

Probably a little above my pay grade.

[hanzer]

[He breathes a snort of something that could pass for laughter.]

We're getting paid?

[And if so, who at HR can he see about his missing year of paychecks? But as before, it's a throwaway remark – a joke in passing – and so his tone quickly sobers.]

Didn't mean to sound morbid. [And he almost sounds apologetic, too. But it's the way of the world: the sun rises in the morning and sets at night, and Adam Jensen doesn't know how to not be dramatic. In what he assumes is an unseen motion, he idly flips through a few submenus on his MID while he speaks.] Just don't get to break out the Greek mythology all that often.

[While he's nowhere near as fast as an integrated intelligence, he too knows how to do his research – and it only takes him about as long as it does to voice his replies before he's able to pull up the AI's entry in the ship's manifest. "Mainframe AI," he notes, raising a brow – a little on the nose, isn't it? No wonder he's looking to swap it out for a newer model.]

It's been a couple months, hasn't it? Why the interest in a name now, rather than before?

[lostsymmetry]

<Oops. I'm sorry. Inquiries regarding employee pay must be directed to the facility manager. Remember, you are an integral part of Domesticon's family.>

[As before, the cheery slogans drop away fast, leaving a much flatter, musing tone.]

You tell me. [A beat.] Though someone did come by with hats a month or so ago.

[The followup explains a lot, though he has to loop the vocal patterns once to check he's reading right (apology)? It helps, though. The voice is a little easier as the mainframe answers, an almost unnoticeable tension lifting in relief.]

Mythology, huh? Sounds sweet, even if I'm not familiar.

[He watches the flickers of the MID. Investigating is the word that springs to mind, though the mainframe's not sure why. Either way, he doubts there's too much to find. The captains had been surprisingly unintrusive with their scans.]

People have been asking.