Lol, trying to make Nexus sit. That's a good one! Reinforced steel or not, it's not only awkward as all hell for him to sit since he doesn't have an ass, it's doubtful the chair could sustain two tonnes in such a concentrated spot!
Dr Catfish Member
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- Dr Catfish 7 yrs ago
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Bio
I actually really hate bios, so if you'd like to gather the scope of my skills as a writer, or see my interests: Simply talk to me.
I don't bite.
Much.
(Profile picture is from a wonderful artist named Circuithead: circuithead.deviantart.com/gallery)
I don't bite.
Much.
(Profile picture is from a wonderful artist named Circuithead: circuithead.deviantart.com/gallery)
Most Recent Posts
@Dr Catfish
And now everyone gets carbon monoxide poisoning.
Well, not everyone. Just everyone important.
T^T
Nexus doesn't run on petroleum. It uses compressed weapons-grade Uranium. Really any sort of fissionable material. The exhaust is just steam.
(Or in a light exhaust stage as Nexus performed, humid air.)
Totally dry. Nexus vented its exhaust and heated the room up in the process.
So many good writers in such a cramped room. @~@
@Mistory has made quite a few enemies by being rude to the poor robot. This certainly will be interesting.
Timing is the worst.
See two posts, wait 6 hours to see if anyone else will post, say screw it and make something short up, @Erklings25 comes online.
See two posts, wait 6 hours to see if anyone else will post, say screw it and make something short up, @Erklings25 comes online.
The machine suddenly shot the Cyborg Dog a glare of contempt, optic turning online again and beaming uncomfortably into the back of that steel can it called a head. The rear ends of the movable plates on Nexus' head shot outwards, flaring like it was quite upset with the comment. However, it reckoned the Cyborg Dog would soon regret his comment. The machine doubted he, Garthar, would even match up physically or mentally, but a verbally scalding retort would serve him well.
"Currently, we are in the midst of computation of theoretical designs and ship modifications to increase efficiency and power distribution. This requires a majority of our cores to operate seamless simulations in tandem. The core in operation of the legs has been re-purposed for its mistake. We are still at work while waiting for the meeting to commence, what do you provide?" It certified, obviously grated from the comment. It decided to hold its voice from further interaction. It did however have quite a quip about those metal limbs of Garthar's, that is for sure.
The machine unclasped its hands, rotating all four wrist joints and splaying its fingers. Its hands clenched to fists, then relaxed and re-clasped. Rather than dim the light on its optic, it simply enhanced it upon Garthar's head as if it were trying to bore a hole through the steel. It would actually be noticeably warm to human flesh but unlikely to affect steel. The Cyborg Dog seemed to hold a grudge against AI. Whether that was from past experiences or general distaste, it would have to be complacent. If it weren't, Nexus could always hold him aloft with two arms and continue work with the remaining set. If he were to prove even mildly troublesome — or meddle with Qubit — the parts would fly.
Open dossier folder, create sub-folder; "Garthar->Responses", create log. Extract audio snippet... Complete. Flag folder under watch-list for constant monitoring of change. Assign Core 64 continuous information sorting.
The machine turned its attention suddenly to Christian after he had finished speaking, optic dimming so it wouldn't blind him. It had something to say about being called 'Nex', but it had already said more than enough for the time being. Rather than chew straws, it decided to accept the gratification, front plates lifting outwards slightly while the back remained flat. This was the assumed man on drugs. However it was unlikely to be the case. His heart rate was average if not slightly above. Synapses were firing perfectly fine, pupils not dilated. Where did this spring of endless joy derive? It was an incredibly rare sight to see someone more than barely living anymore, further interaction with this man was absolutely necessary. Was it simply pure happiness, or was it a flimsy cover veiled across the darkest secret of depression? Only experimentation would reveal results.
"Currently, we are in the midst of computation of theoretical designs and ship modifications to increase efficiency and power distribution. This requires a majority of our cores to operate seamless simulations in tandem. The core in operation of the legs has been re-purposed for its mistake. We are still at work while waiting for the meeting to commence, what do you provide?" It certified, obviously grated from the comment. It decided to hold its voice from further interaction. It did however have quite a quip about those metal limbs of Garthar's, that is for sure.
The machine unclasped its hands, rotating all four wrist joints and splaying its fingers. Its hands clenched to fists, then relaxed and re-clasped. Rather than dim the light on its optic, it simply enhanced it upon Garthar's head as if it were trying to bore a hole through the steel. It would actually be noticeably warm to human flesh but unlikely to affect steel. The Cyborg Dog seemed to hold a grudge against AI. Whether that was from past experiences or general distaste, it would have to be complacent. If it weren't, Nexus could always hold him aloft with two arms and continue work with the remaining set. If he were to prove even mildly troublesome — or meddle with Qubit — the parts would fly.
Open dossier folder, create sub-folder; "Garthar->Responses", create log. Extract audio snippet... Complete. Flag folder under watch-list for constant monitoring of change. Assign Core 64 continuous information sorting.
The machine turned its attention suddenly to Christian after he had finished speaking, optic dimming so it wouldn't blind him. It had something to say about being called 'Nex', but it had already said more than enough for the time being. Rather than chew straws, it decided to accept the gratification, front plates lifting outwards slightly while the back remained flat. This was the assumed man on drugs. However it was unlikely to be the case. His heart rate was average if not slightly above. Synapses were firing perfectly fine, pupils not dilated. Where did this spring of endless joy derive? It was an incredibly rare sight to see someone more than barely living anymore, further interaction with this man was absolutely necessary. Was it simply pure happiness, or was it a flimsy cover veiled across the darkest secret of depression? Only experimentation would reveal results.
Nexus watched the strange myriad of people enter the meeting room. It was common to be slightly disorganized on non-military frigates but this was something entirely different. A woman still wet from the shower in ragged, promiscuous clothing, a man who appeared to be - but was not - on drugs, a dog-like cyborg.. Whatever it was, a jealous competitive fitness nut and a black man who just wanted some sleep.
All congregating around the sleepy Captain who had been previously spreading his seed across an unknown woman; yes, the machine did know. It knew of every power fluctuation through the ship. Doors opening, automatic lights turning on, refrigerator door opening. This was a way of knowing the ins and outs of the Condor, as well as if certain areas needed repairs or were faulty. This also acted as a sort of surveillance of the crew, as it could guess where certain members were based on their power consumption and door usage.
The sight of the poor, unprepared woman. Anyone looking would see the machine unabashedly beaming the royal blue light of its optic in her direction. Trying to be subtle - as subtle as a two tonne eight foot tall machine could be - it slowly meandered behind the woman in white, plates in its chest moving outwards and sliding away to reveal eight ports, four to each side. Its facial plates were set rigid against its head, a rather stern look of a business conduct almost. The machine crooned forwards, holdings both sets of its own arms and almost surrounding her in metal and elastomer. The hands pivoted inwards on the joint of its wrist to carefully take hold of the ruined shirt and clip the top portion together with two simple fridge magnets on either side. It was an incredibly simple and gaudy fix, but it would do for the moment.
"Remain still, close proximity to exhaust vents incite possibility of burns." Nexus stated calmly in a quieter volume, loud whoosh of air sounding as the two vents on either side began blowing rather hot air. The sheer volume was rather impressive, and the room was immediately raised more than a couple degrees. However, her hair, clothes, hands and all around everything was dry. It had only taken a handful of seconds to do. After the machine had finished, it straightened and resealed the ports behind plating. It attempted to return to its position beside the door, but caught an askew chair and bashed it into the table with a loud bang.
The plates of the machines head shot outwards in surprise and apology, hands moving the chair where it was supposed to be originally before retaking its place beside the door. Rather than intrude in the meeting further, the machine dimmed the optical light and clasped both sets of its hands, solemnly stating it would not interfere further.
All congregating around the sleepy Captain who had been previously spreading his seed across an unknown woman; yes, the machine did know. It knew of every power fluctuation through the ship. Doors opening, automatic lights turning on, refrigerator door opening. This was a way of knowing the ins and outs of the Condor, as well as if certain areas needed repairs or were faulty. This also acted as a sort of surveillance of the crew, as it could guess where certain members were based on their power consumption and door usage.
The sight of the poor, unprepared woman. Anyone looking would see the machine unabashedly beaming the royal blue light of its optic in her direction. Trying to be subtle - as subtle as a two tonne eight foot tall machine could be - it slowly meandered behind the woman in white, plates in its chest moving outwards and sliding away to reveal eight ports, four to each side. Its facial plates were set rigid against its head, a rather stern look of a business conduct almost. The machine crooned forwards, holdings both sets of its own arms and almost surrounding her in metal and elastomer. The hands pivoted inwards on the joint of its wrist to carefully take hold of the ruined shirt and clip the top portion together with two simple fridge magnets on either side. It was an incredibly simple and gaudy fix, but it would do for the moment.
"Remain still, close proximity to exhaust vents incite possibility of burns." Nexus stated calmly in a quieter volume, loud whoosh of air sounding as the two vents on either side began blowing rather hot air. The sheer volume was rather impressive, and the room was immediately raised more than a couple degrees. However, her hair, clothes, hands and all around everything was dry. It had only taken a handful of seconds to do. After the machine had finished, it straightened and resealed the ports behind plating. It attempted to return to its position beside the door, but caught an askew chair and bashed it into the table with a loud bang.
The plates of the machines head shot outwards in surprise and apology, hands moving the chair where it was supposed to be originally before retaking its place beside the door. Rather than intrude in the meeting further, the machine dimmed the optical light and clasped both sets of its hands, solemnly stating it would not interfere further.
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