pain_train | SANCTUM INBOX

"Okay, good. Oh... then I really appreciate you doing this. I hope he didn't trouble you." Since she also is aware that apparently things aren't on the best terms between them. She's curious but she also has no idea how to bring it up without making things worse.

"So I'll be able to save my stuff too? Huh. That sounds like a good idea." She smiles crookedly. "I... don't know what some of what you said means, though, I'm sorry." This is kind of embarrassing. "I've never used computers outside the context of combat systems. Well, and my reader, but that's just for books. I'm... really bad at that."

"Sure, that would probably be a good idea. I don't want to accidentally mess something up."

"Not at all," he says firmly. "It has been thankfully quiet lately so I have had some downtime." Rather a lot of which downtime was spent right across the hall, actually.

Delta tilts his head to one side curiously. "There are three ways to save your work from this frame. First, you can save to the framework itself - there is sufficient memory to hold several thousand works. Second, you can connect it to your glasses using the app described in the tutorial, which allows you to send individual works to people in your contact list. Third, there is a port on the bottom for transferring stored data to any of several types of storage. For example, should you fill the memory, you can copy all paintings to a home computer, erase the stored data on the frame, and begin anew." He hopes that much is clear from his explanation, but if not, she can always get North to help since he does know quite a lot about computers. Not as much as Delta, since he didn't use to be one, but nobody's perfect.

He points to the power button, which she can access either with her one free hand or with the stylus held in her mouth. "Once you turn it on, the tutorial will begin automatically. Simple choose to continue rather than skip it."

"And... quiet's good. So... I'm glad." Quiet sounds boring. Quiet sounds like her current life.

Again, she listens intently. "...I should probably get a home computer, huh." She's starting to wonder what else she's really missing out on. "But I understand at least the first two, and that should be good." But she stays quiet, considering. "If I store the data using my glasses, could people... find it? And... erase it? Or do something to it?"

She's not quite sure where she's going with this, but it's one of those formless doubts in the back of her mind, something that bothers her greatly. She knows there's a reason she's got paintings in a storage unit somewhere, and it's not lack of room.

"All right. That seems simple enough."

"A quiet period gives us time to pursue our own interests and prepare for future activity," he agrees. He's had little enough of it in his own life, except when laying low - and that's not quite the same, since there's always a level of stress involved. Then again, in a sense he has been doing exactly that since arriving here, keeping his most important activities under the radar. The less Bifrons knows about the extent of his abilities, the less impetus they have for forcibly changing them.

Which brings up an important point. Delta nods. "That is why it is a good idea to store ot both locally on the frame and as a backup on an external drive," he says. "Data uploaded to the network, even over an encrypted feed, may be available to others. That is why you would need to use the glasses to upload or transmit a piece; the frame itself is not directly connected to the network to prevent being manipulated remotely."

And Delta always acts in public as if his actions are being recorded, so he doesn't go into any more detail, such as who would be modifying that data or from where.

She's silent for a long time, considering this, trying to shake things loose in her mind. It's all random details, very disorganized, but she's not stupid. She can put things together.

"I'm glad you made it that way," she finally says, measuring out her words. "Because I know... I know someone steals my paintings. There was a red one. A sunset. I know I painted it. It was... Important." Though hell if she can remember why, now. "Whenever I'm in the hospital, they take all my stuff. And I never remember at first, when I get sent home, but I can remember now, kind of. I'm tired of... I'm tired of my shit just getting taken, you know? It's like they think I'll never realize it's gone. And maybe I shouldn't, I don't know. But it's like... It's like having a fucking stone in your boot, just rubbing the sharp edge into your ankle every time you take a step."

She frowns. "If they come for me, is there any way to make it so they can't take this? Or... shit I guess I shouldn't ask you and I shouldn't even be... fuck this is so confusing."

Delta watches and listens carefully, putting the somewhat disjointed speech together and nodding at appropriate points. It's disturbing to think of - even in the UNSC military, private property was respected, almost to a superstitious extent. And as a former AI, he hates with a passion the very idea of someone toying with his memory, erasing selective parts of it at their leisure. Rewriting it with patently false, honey-flavored offerings.

"I do not know that there is a way to prevent someone from taking what is yours if you are under their power," he says slowly, aware that he's being watched and recorded even now. "But I do know two things. First, that their methods are not perfect. You would not be able to remember the sunset painting at all if they were. You must continue to think, to exercise your mind, and rebuild bridges that were burned. An imperfect recollection is a recollection nonetheless. And secondly, all data leaves a trace. When data is moved, there is a trail. When data is changed, there is a trail. In some cases, the absence of data itself is the strongest trail of all. What is recorded cannot be lost permanently, not if one is truly determined to regain it."

Which is somewhat abstract and may not make sense to her, not entirely, but if the seed is not planted it will never grow.

Wrath is silent for a long moment, considering this. There are things she doesn't understand, but maybe that will come. Delta's obviously trying to be helpful.

"When I try to talk about these things, people think I'm crazy," she says quietly. "Whiskey used to, I think. I'm guessing. But it's in my chart as repeated head trauma. I think he believes me now, even if I don't know why. And North just believed me even though I know I sound crazier because I might as well be a fucking drug store right now." And Delta believes her too, maybe. She's so lucky to have not one but three people who don't think she's insane around.

All data leaves a trace. That's certainly something. And it is very abstract, but she can latch onto the idea that nothing is gone forever. She licks her lips. "Does that mean maybe if I had a different name once, it might still exist somewhere?"

Edited (swyyyyyype whyyyyyyy) 2014-11-10 20:39 (UTC)

Delta smiles, though there's a trace of bitterness in it. "Those who have a different thought or belief system than the majority are often dismissed, especially in a society such as this with no outside influence. Because we Immune come from a broad variety of backgrounds and cultures, we may question what natives take for granted. If it is not ridiculous to you for me to have been an intelligence program from the year 2554, why should it seem strange to me that your memories are unreliable?" Or that magic is real in one reality, or that peaceful contact with alien races had shaped another, or even that there were apparently other organizations that pulled in diverse individuals in the same manner as Project Immunis?

"In other words, yes, I would lay strong odds that if such a name existed once, it could be found again." After all, a very long time ago, he had once been called Alpha....

"I try to see people for who they really are." She offers him a little, somewhat shaky smile. These things are never easy to talk about, and she's always been a very emotional person to begin with. "I think you do too."

Even when it's unpleasant or scary, she bets. Since those are the most important times.

She breathes out a little sigh. "Okay. I mean... I don't know if it does. But North seemed to think so. He was... upset." Normally, it just didn't occur to her to be bothered. Wrath was her name, and has always been. That particular doubt wasn't hers.

"Thank you for listening."

Delta shrugs, though the smile seems to lose its bitterness at least in part. "It is dangerous to take everything at face value. One need not be a warrior to understand that."

He nods and reaches over to give her free hand a light pat. "You are welcome. I wish you a swift recovery."

"I guess." She gives him a sheepish smile. "I haven't really known anyone who isn't a soldier."

She twists her wrist enough--don't tell North!--that she can catch his fingers for a brief, warm squeeze. "Thank you, Delta."

She is so glad she got to meet him.

"I think it's only one more week on the rack and then my bones will be done regrowing."

"You know one now," he says, as for all that he was made to help with the war it had always been in a purely helping capacity. "I hope you will have ample opportunity to meet more."

He looks pleased at the squeeze, though he stands up to go after. "Then I will see if I can stop by again before you are out to see your progress with the frame. I hope you will enjoy it."

She grins. "My first non-soldier friend. I bet you're going to give me all these super high, unreasonable expectations for everyone else."

Well, he's probably busy. She should be grateful for the time he has given her, and she is. "I'd really like that. And you can show me your work too!"

Delta huffs in indignation, though it's not entirely serious. He doubts that. They'll probably just end up being lower than usual because he isn't even human.

"I will bring a projector," he promises. "Good luck." And he turns to go.

SANCTUM INBOX

Day 154 | afternoon | action

Day 154 | afternoon | action

Day 154 | afternoon | action

Day 154 | afternoon | action

Day 154 | afternoon | action

Day 154 | afternoon | action

Day 154 | afternoon | action

Day 154 | afternoon | action

Day 154 | afternoon | action

Day 154 | afternoon | action

Day 154 | afternoon | action

Day 154 | afternoon | action

Day 154 | afternoon | action

Day 154 | afternoon | action