nexus_crossings | (no subject)

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"I need a break from the Wastelands so I'm going to stick around for a bit. So if anyone happens to need a detective..."

Nick is a rather somber sounding mechanical man with a trilby hat, battered trench coat, and pants. He has a slender cigarette dangling from his skeletal fingers. Nick is standing under a street lamp, and he grumbles under his breath.

"I need to ask a question, okay, I'll ask a question. What do you do when you thought someone you knew turns out to be a complete lie?"

The somberness is gone, and Nick sounds angry very angry. "I've tried to reason with them, but he has decided to show his true colors." The old robot detective rocks back on the battered souls of his shoes, as he lifts his cigarette up to his lips to take a puff as if it will literally calm his gears.

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"Before we met he told me he was a soldier. That much is true, never fancied himself a hero even if people saw otherwise. At least the people he was helping. As for swearing never to hurt innocent people, never until recently did I see him ever lay a hand on anyone who didn't deserve it."

Nick knows things are rough, and it is a dog eat dog world back home. And with a shake of his head. "He's human. And even humans from my knowledge have a point to where they just can't handle it anymore. But, but, I just don't know if I should give up on him yet. His friends are worried about him, and some have even told him where to stick it and want nothing more to do with him."

"If he was a soldier, then he hurt innocent people. Maybe not directly, but I've yet to hear about a war that didn't affect civilians."

Humans are fallible. Robots are, too, but he's willing to give this man who looks like he's stepped out of a film noir the benefit of the doubt, that he honestly didn't see his friend's betrayal coming.

"But, okay. Let's assume he was a decent fellow beforehand and not some psychopath biding his time. Did something happen right before he joined the raiders? When he couldn't handle the responsibility of doing the right thing anymore?" He gaze falls back to the skeletal hand. "And even if he could be talked back into being a good guy again, you sure you wanna try? Unless you have your own set of spare parts to fall back on, I wouldn't risk it."

"I'm well aware of what happens when society crumbles. And I also know all about the horrors of war, considering I'm living in what would be considered the end result."

Nick tilts his head, his tattered synth-flesh exposing the inner workings of his neck and some of his head as he does so. He knows all too well about robots being as only as good as their programmers. Nick is just lucky is isn't a robot, or ended up a synth without a mind of its own.

"He was the only survivor of a vault, wife was murdered, and the son he was kidnapped. The real kicker is when we discovered the kid he turned out to be an old man who was running a secret society of psychopaths." Nick's brow furrows and he mutters under his breath. "Now I can see where he may have had it in him."

It's not a surprise to hear what Nick's world is like considering that that there are 'raiders' out an about. But it does pique his curiosity. "Post-war? What was the war about?" He frowns a little, trying to puzzle out the synth's role in all of this. "I'd like to know about your origins, but before you think I'm an asshole for asking, you should know that I'm a robot, too. A Cylon. It's why I'm curious."

Solidarity in artificiality, and all that.

He doesn't know what a vault is, but it's not relevant to the story. "Wait, what? Was the kid aged up or was your friend stuck in time somehow? Either way, that's a lot of crap for one man to deal with. He could have decided to just give up doing the right thing, if that's what he ended up with."

"It had to due with an energy crisis and the three major countries, all who happened to have nuclear weapons. Well apparently everyone forgot what mutually assured destruction, and the world as most people knew it came to an end."

Nick raises an eyebrow when he hears the man he's talking to admits to being a 'synth', and this gets Nick's attention. "We got people like you, except you aren't called robots. You're called a synthetic humanoid or just a synth. Seeing we're a lot different from a robot, sure, we might be all bolts and wires on the inside but it has to do with what's up here." He lifts his skeletal hand up, and he leans over to tap Casper's head.

"As for me, well lets just say, some nice fella was nice enough to have his memories saved somehow prior to the war and I ended up with them. As for the kid, my old friend was given a nice cold nap."

Ah, nuclear weapons. A perennial favorite. "That happened to us twice. Possibly three times, but history gets a little hazy that far back."

Caspar tolerates the head tapping, although he doesn't look thrilled about it. "I"m organic," he informs Nick. "But, sure, I get it. A synth has sentience." Nick's specific origins have him frowning a little. "His memories, but not his consciousness?" Does that difference even matter? It does explain the whole gumshoe persona... seems a little out of place in a post-apocalyptic world.

"My name's Caspar," he says, because it's a little rude to ask about someone's existence without at least offering an introduction. "Maybe being put on ice scrambled your friend's brains a little." He looks away a moment, then adds, "Coming back to consciousness can mess with a person... even if it takes a while to show."

"Nuclear fire the giver and taker of organic life. Or if it is lucky enough, the changer of life itself."

Casper reminds Nick of the newer synths who look every bit human, and other than a few parts, they are human. "You look like the new synths. And from what we got after The Institute was destroyed, they're organic."

"I took the memories, and tried to make out the best of what I could of who this Nick figure was. Heck I figured they were mine, but nothing really made sense. At least with the world Nick lived in, and the one I found myself in."

Nodding about the cryogenics. "I'm no scientist, but you could be on to something. The whole process messed with his head. That or he was like this long before The War."

"What, you mean mutations?" That only works in the movies. Or... maybe not. He shouldn't assume anything about Nick's world.

"You know what, I think you're the first person I've come across whose world has something like me. Congratulations. What's their deal, these new synths? Are they treated like anyone else, or are they enslaved?" He's genuinely curious. The only other humanoid robot he knows around here is Blaze.

Nick's explanation raises more questions than it answers. "You're okay with taking on the persona of this man? Was he planning on being downloaded into a synthetic body or something?" How can he be so comfortable with those memories when they're from another lifetime?

No wonder his friend went off the deep end. Nick's world doesn't make any sense. "Either way, how much does it matter to you? Do you think you'll cross paths with him again?"

"Gigantic house flies, scorpions, roaches, and it isn't just the insects that became big and mutated." Nick expands his arms outwards to explain the size of the creatures. "There's something horrific about having a fly barf at you while you're going for a walk in the woods."

Explaining the wildlife is a lot easier and less messy than trying to dig into the politics involving the new generation of synths. And the discussion is having him wonder how both Curie and Danse are doing in their new homes. "The Institute never considered us to be equals. I mean, I can get the crude synths that were well just a metal skeleton on legs with the mental capacity of a toaster oven. But the ones that look like you, I don't think they even considered that in making a human who can blend in with the population upstairs, they made another living being."

"But they were slaves. And the general population on the surface fears them. Both the synths and The Institute. And I can't say I blame them with the latter."

Caspar can't help but smirk a little at that. No, he would most certainly not want a giant housefly vomiting on him. "I've heard that cockroaches could survive a nuclear winter, but nobody said anything about them evolving into giants."

More interesting to him is how synths are treated in Nick's world, and though he's unsurprised by the answer, it lights up a familiar sense of injustice within him all the same. "They should be scared," he says with a scowl, crossing his arms over his chest. "You give a being sentience and then treat it like shit, you're bound to get yours eventually."

It's a good thing Nick's world has already had its nuclear war. The humans on the surface as asking for it.

"Now that you're here, are you planning to go back? Is there anything worth it there for you?"

"My former friend was the one who led the fight to help free the synths, sure, lots were lost and others were willing to defend their masters. And hopefully in due time people will learn to accept them, and no longer fear them." Nick sounds hopeful for the future of the free synths, and the future of the world around them in general.

At the question Casper has asked him, Nick reaches a hand up to rub his chin. "Right now, I'm going to stick around, I plan on getting my head on right first. And as much as I'd like this to be permanent, I still have an obligation to my detective agency."

Lowering his hand, Nick extends it out to Casper. "Anyway I can't recall if I got your name. Name's Nick Valentine."

He's surprised that Nick sounds so optimistic. A leftover personality quirk from the original Nick, perhaps? "For your sake, sure. I haven't seen that kind of acceptance until fairly recently, and even then it was hard-earned."

It does change his initial impression of this ex-friend of Nick's, however. He had written the guy off as someone who doesn't have anything to believe in, but if he had actually led a synth revolution, maybe that wasn't the case.

"Caspar Millen," he replies, shaking Nick's hand firmly but briefly. "I don't live here, but I visit frequently enough. What sort of detective work does someone do in a world like yours?"

"If people were willing to accept me, someone who doesn't look the least bit human, I think the others will do a lot better. And the fact they want to fit in will make this easier." Nick even if he didn't look like he was tossed into a trash heap, he still wouldn't look human with his very plastic looking skin and the yellow robotic eyes.

Hope for the future he has lots of for the new generation of synths. "I don't live here, and I tend to drift in and out of the place. My job as a private investigator back home tends to keep me busy."

"So now that I've told you about my home, why don't you tell me a bit more about yourself? And seeing you've said it took time and work to become accepted, why don't we start on that."

Those are two points in favor of things working out well for the passing-as-human synths, although Caspar remains skeptical. He'll believe it when he sees it -- or hears about it, if he ever runs into Nick again.

"Well," Caspar drawls as he adjusts the knot of his tie, "As you've probably already inferred, humans and Cylons did not always get along where I'm from. Humans built Cylons to do their dirty work. They didn't expect us to become sentient, and they really didn't want to treat us as sentient, either. When we petitioned to be treated fairly, they tried to exterminate us. So we fought back -- and lost. Forty years later, we came back like this." He gestures to himself. "Organic, so we could blend in. We had a lot of plans in the works, but the one that succeeded led to a nuclear holocaust. The War continued for another three years, but to make a long story short, some of my siblings aligned with the humans over the common goal of finding Earth. Once they succeeded, they were able to settle together peacefully."

He pauses a moment, then adds dryly, "I took a little longer to come around."

Nick might just be optimistic, he might be too optimistic about what the future might bring for the human synths.

He cocks his head to the side as he listens to what Caspar tells him about the Cylons. It sounds all too familiar, and the fact they went to war with the humans has him lower his head. Is this will eventually happen to both human and synth. He purses his lips in thought. "Sounds a lot like how my own people came to be. We were built to do the work that was deemed beneath humankind. And I can only hope that there won't be another war."

Nick has only hope to cling to that this can be avoided. The Earth can't take another major war without everything dying. "And I don't blame you for being weary and not coming around right away."

Caspar snorts as another parallel between the Cylons and synths comes to light. "They're so goddamn lazy, aren't they? The second they can make somebody else bear the load, they do it." His mouth twitches and he admits, "'Course, Cylons can get just as lazy if you give them enough time. We're too much in their image, if you ask me."

Caught up in his cynicism, Nick's sympathy catches him by surprise. When was the last time someone agreed that he had any right to remain suspicious of humans and their intentions? It makes him feel a little guilty -- he hasn't exactly given any of the humans on Atlantis good reason to trust him. "...thanks. I wish more people saw it like you did."

Nick laughs a little bit at the thought of humans being lazy. "And yet they've got the ingenuity to make the two of us." For all of their faults Nick likes humans. And he is going to be quite open about it. "And the bunch of them still are able to manage on the surface of the Earth after those with a big stick decided to nearly burn the planet to a crisp."

The old Nick still must be in there somewhere, at least that is what he wants to think.

With a smile crossing his lips, Nick laughs a little. "I'm sure there's some lazy synths out that I haven't met before. And thanks. I've been trying to a force for something positive. I'd like to hope that the rest of the humans also know this. I know it is literally a dog eat dog world out there, but there are still more good people out there than the bad. And I hope that my old friend comes to realize that tormenting them isn't worth it."

"Don't confuse cleverness with hard work," Caspar retorts, a little annoyed to have a hole poked in his argument. "All that ingenuity is so they don't have to get off their own lazy asses..." But, okay, perhaps he's being a bit harsh. His girlfriend is human, after all, and she works harder than anyone.

"You sound like my girlfriend," he tells Nick, which is about as high a compliment as he can pay anyone. He almost wishes that he could work up some hope that the synth's former friend will come around -- for Nick's sake -- but he's seen enough of humans giving into their base natures that he doubts it'll happen.

And speaking of his girlfriend, she's likely back at their cabin by now. "I need to get going, Nick, but it was good to meet you. There aren't a lot of people like us in the Nexus."

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