Justric — Roleplayer Guild

Hob skipped through the halls of the message management program, converted virtually into a grand Victorian post office where letters flew themselves from slot to slot. It was all gleaming brass and polish wood beneath the high overhead dome. There were no other people here, yet with the Third Shift newly awakened, the place was still a beehive of activity as the newly awakened workers checked for messages from each other, from their respective departments, and from friends and family on the other Shifts. He already knew there weren't any messages waiting for him. Not only would he have been alerted instantly the moment he plugged into the computer's neural net (the damn things would buzz around him like angry wasps until he answered them), he was all too aware that he didn't know anyone that would send him a message of any sorts! The NI-Techs handled pretty much everything internally between them. The watches they worked hardly allowed for much contact with others, doubly true now that the hours had changed so drastically.

The life of an NI-Tech was a lonely one outside of the computer. After all, it was hard to relate to people outside of the neuro-computer's environment after having spent half the day working so closely with the rest of the team's minds; there were secrets and inner most thoughts that Hob, Yuriko, and Charlie ended up sharing with one another unconsciously. Hob knew he had changed some since working with the two. Their widely different backgrounds and experiences leaked through to affect one another in ways that were hard to fully comprehend. For example, Yuriko's thoughts had givens Hob some insight on what it was to grow up a female otaku in Japan, while Charlie showed Hob what the life of a wealthy African-American from Boston could be. How could it not alter him in some way! The new viewpoints provided by his team and to a lesser extent the Port Watch had opened up his world view in ways that no one could have expected. They didn't share out and out memories, but the color of their thoughts and the way they came up with ideas had their influence. After that? Dealing with others outside of the 'net was like talking to people who said little and always wore masks.

Which is why Hob was incredibly thankful for OLGA's existence! As much as he liked his partners, each of them knew they needed time away from each other now and then, even when plugged in. The hybrid AI was a step between the forced intimacy between his partners and the feeling of emotional isolation from the rest of the crew. The NI-Techs had been introduced to OLGA long before launch time. The Watches had to run multiple drills and scenarios within the computer beforehand to ensure that everything would run smoothly, and part of those training sessions had been working with OLGA.

Hob found he had missed the girl. And to him, OLGA was a girl as much as any that slept in the cryobeds! He could see her, hear her, touch her, hug her... The AI had more personality than most humans did as far as he was concerned, and talking with her sometimes was almost a palpable relief. While some might find his bond towards OLGA bizarre, what about being an NI-Tech wasnt? Of course, such things as 'making out' and 'keeping it in his pants' were pointless jests for several reasons.

To begin with there was the confusing matter of OLGA's age. Physically she was fourteen, making her young. Yet her avatar had the appearance of a teenager older than that, and if she was fourteen mentally then she was a mature fourteen year old for all of her vivaciousness. There was also the matter of the time dilation between reality and the virtual existence she lived; four hours in the physical world was... ages in the virtual, and the NI-Techs found they often had to slow down their thinking when dealing with others while plugged in. Technically, OLGA would have lived a human's full lifespan a few times over comparatively speaking. And if you brought it back to a matter of physical components, the what was fourteen years in terms of technology? Obsolescence! It had taken less than fourteen years to go from floppy disks and audio cassettes to CDs, from wall phones to handhelds, from storage on hard drives to clouds... Looking at in that view, OLGA was an old maid!

Not that Hob would ever be stupid enough to point that out to her...

There was also the matter of rendering. How completely human an avatar had been developed for OLGA, and what more might she have added on her own? Beneath her generated clothes, was there anything more than bits of code and a loose framework? Even if there was, how to simulate hormones and nerve reactions and everything that went into the physicality of sex to the point where OLGA would actually get anything out of it? Hob could 'feel' her. To what degree could she really do the same?

Most importantly was the consequences! Primal thoughts, unfiltered emotions, created the Ghosts that would plague the system. Random bits of ideas and daydreams that would flit about the system to cloud the NI-Tech's perceptions and seep their way into command codes and communications. As intriguing as the idea was, trying to initiate a cyber-sexual relationship with OLGA on such a level could be disastrous for that reason. There was also the consequence of what would happen if Hob became aroused with the damn catheter still in; his physical body would still react to the perceived stimulation. Embarrassing and painful! On the upside, even if it became possible for them to copulate (provided OLGA would even be interested in such!) was that it was impossible for Hob to get her pregnant!

For all the talk, Hob was well aware that talk was all it would ever be. Strangely enough, for he had always been a passionate man, he was okay with that. He had found a friend and confidant in OLGA, and her presence was oddly cheering. Let the rest of the crew thing the AI to be creepy if useful! Fuck, most of them thought the NI-Techs were creepy if useful, and Hob would be the first to agree! All the artist knew was that he had fun being with OLGA and that she seemed to feel the same way. Soon she would be working on whatever genetic magic the good doctor had in store, so Hob was intent on making the most of what spare time they had before their capabilities were fully called upon.

The grand post office was a nice short cut for Hob to the Core where OLGA was housed. From there, she could respond to any inquiry anywhere on the ship and assist in whatever ways her programming allowed. OLGA could see the rest of the system, Hob knew, but was limited in how much she could interact with it; as happy as the Engineers were to have her processing capability aboard, no one wanted a self aware system with the temperament of a teenager to have the ability to execute command codes. Old prejudices born of ancient science-fiction were hard to overcome. Hob often wondered just how aware of her shackles OLGA was, if at all, although if she knew then she never said anything. Maybe that was another thing they had in common? They were, in their own ways, both slaved to the ship's welfare.

He found the iron spiral staircase that spiraled its way down to the Core, and taking the steps two at a time Hob soon found himself outside of OLGA's home. From the outside, it looking nothing more than a long, stone corridor stretching off into the distance beyond sight with closed doors on either side. Most were locked for security reasons. Should the NI-Techs need entry, three of them would have to be present to open them, they were that important. OLGA's, however, could be locked or unlocked at her own whim (for the most part). And whatever lay beyond her door was left for her to devise...

Rapping several times in a quick staccato, Hob called out to her, "Candy police! Open up! I've a warrant to search the premises for something cute and sweet!"

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