Oops, did not notice the Character tab. I'll copy over Lyre's sheet later - it's about midnight right now, plus I'm on my phone and the battery's dying. I suppose a reply will have to wait until then as well. :P You'll receive the notification when I post anything, so you'll know when I get back to you. Hopefully sometime tomorrow, but my family and I are going out so it could be a couple days.
searchaway Member
Mobius
- Last Seen: 5 mos ago
- Joined: 5 yrs ago
- Posts: 68 (0.04 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- searchaway 5 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
5 yrs ago
I am back! See, that wasn't too long.
2
likes
5 yrs ago
Some stuff has come up this week, so I won't be replying as quickly as I was. Thanks for being patient!
1
like
5 yrs ago
Really happy that this place is active!
4
likes
Bio
Call me Search, or Mobius.
Eastern Daylight Time.
Eastern Daylight Time.
Most Recent Posts
Unfortunately, I want to become a totalitarian ruler over the entire universe. You become my royal advisor, and I keep your life about the same as you are a great help to me. Meanwhile, I achieve my greatest dreams as my military engineers make beautiful technological breakthroughs, aiding me in my quest to conquer everything. And you will remain by my side, Lonely Parrot, watching the universe bow before me.
And, uhhh. I guess my wish is already up there. Become universal dictator.
And, uhhh. I guess my wish is already up there. Become universal dictator.
Lyre's eyes narrowed as well in response to Tyssa's pointed gaze. It's not lying. Lyre did construct a nervous system first, designed as an enhanced version of a human's in all five senses. She wouldn't be surprised if the specimen had other memories of the labs too.
Unfortunately for Tyssa, those enhanced senses were certainly feeling the empty stomach more intensely than any human would.
"Go ahead and drink the biofluid," said Lyre. "It contains all the nutrients necessary to your survival. Don't worry about it being dirty; everything here is sterile."
She tucked the pillow under her arm and glanced down at her clothes—a plain white t-shirt, gray cargo pants, and close-toed slippers. It was the same outfit every day, contained in an ultraviolet cleaning closet at night. Even the pillow in her arms was sterilized at night. She had a separate one for sleeping.
Unfortunately for Tyssa, those enhanced senses were certainly feeling the empty stomach more intensely than any human would.
"Go ahead and drink the biofluid," said Lyre. "It contains all the nutrients necessary to your survival. Don't worry about it being dirty; everything here is sterile."
She tucked the pillow under her arm and glanced down at her clothes—a plain white t-shirt, gray cargo pants, and close-toed slippers. It was the same outfit every day, contained in an ultraviolet cleaning closet at night. Even the pillow in her arms was sterilized at night. She had a separate one for sleeping.
So it's capable of abstract thought, thought Lyre. Indeed, abstract thought often came with the innate sense of self, but not always.
This is...unexpected, to say the least.
The scientist stared at the floor, watching the biofluid ripple. Though the specimen obviously wouldn't hurt her, she remained on guard nonetheless. Her shoulders and legs tensed. Her heartbeat still rushed in her ears, loud and staccato and rapid. She bunched the pillowcase fabric in her hand, chafing the two cotton layers so hard it turned hot.
"Hello, Tyssa." Lyre sounded the name carefully. She considered its syllables, the unique way the specimen pronounced the name. Was it English? Some foreign tongue? Or merely a mutation of words that the hybrid embryo managed to pick up?
This is a bug. She lifted her eyes from the floor and stared at Tyssa's tail instead. I never programmed a pre-existing name. Nor should it have the capability of self-motivation.
"Why do you ask about your purpose?" inquired Lyre dryly.
This is...unexpected, to say the least.
The scientist stared at the floor, watching the biofluid ripple. Though the specimen obviously wouldn't hurt her, she remained on guard nonetheless. Her shoulders and legs tensed. Her heartbeat still rushed in her ears, loud and staccato and rapid. She bunched the pillowcase fabric in her hand, chafing the two cotton layers so hard it turned hot.
"Hello, Tyssa." Lyre sounded the name carefully. She considered its syllables, the unique way the specimen pronounced the name. Was it English? Some foreign tongue? Or merely a mutation of words that the hybrid embryo managed to pick up?
This is a bug. She lifted her eyes from the floor and stared at Tyssa's tail instead. I never programmed a pre-existing name. Nor should it have the capability of self-motivation.
"Why do you ask about your purpose?" inquired Lyre dryly.
Just realized something: does Tyssa know how to speak as soon as she's born? Or does she have to learn the human tongue manually?
Lyre remained frozen in the silence following that crash. She held the pillow tight against her. Her eyes, widened in alarm, followed the specimen as it considered its surroundings.
Scales covered its body, reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights. Its tail curved slightly, and its wings spread overhead like a vast canopy. Its head hung low, a clump of dripping white hair hiding its face.
And then it rose.
Their eyes met for a split second, and Lyre saw her own fear reflected in the dragon woman's disoriented gaze. A good thing, she forced herself to think, it can intimidate. She took a shaky breath. That thing could kill her this very moment. Just one careless wave of that tail...
No. I cannot be thinking such things.
With one arm wrapped around the pillow and the other pressed against the wall, Lyre began to stand. Her legs felt unstable below her. But the analyses she had completed, the data she had gathered—all of it provided a stable foundation for taming this newborn beast.
"My name is Lyre," she uttered slowly. "I am your creator. Rest assured, I will not hurt you."
Scales covered its body, reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights. Its tail curved slightly, and its wings spread overhead like a vast canopy. Its head hung low, a clump of dripping white hair hiding its face.
And then it rose.
Their eyes met for a split second, and Lyre saw her own fear reflected in the dragon woman's disoriented gaze. A good thing, she forced herself to think, it can intimidate. She took a shaky breath. That thing could kill her this very moment. Just one careless wave of that tail...
No. I cannot be thinking such things.
With one arm wrapped around the pillow and the other pressed against the wall, Lyre began to stand. Her legs felt unstable below her. But the analyses she had completed, the data she had gathered—all of it provided a stable foundation for taming this newborn beast.
"My name is Lyre," she uttered slowly. "I am your creator. Rest assured, I will not hurt you."
@SporkoBug Here's the post. I guess it didn't ping, whoops. (Or if it did, I'm sorry for the double-ping.)
176 days had passed since Specimen II had been introduced to the incubator. Including organ construction and assembly, about 200 days.
Beneath the noise of fluid bubbling through the incubator, Lyre hummed and whistled as she reviewed her records. She sat on the floor, back against the wall, a pillow decorated with music notes sandwiched between her knees and chest. One hand held onto a couple papers and the other fiddled with the pillowcase in her lap. A bunch of other documents laid strewn about on the floor—a mess she would later dread cleaning up. Everything always had to go through paperwork and authorities, and they had to fax everything to Lyre's room. A stupid arrangement, but it was one that the young scientist couldn't fight her way out of no matter how hard she tried—and she did try.
She twisted a corner of her pillow, the decoration on the pillowcase having faded there from constantly being rubbed. One glance at the vitals screen—kept safely windowed in another room—told Lyre that everything here was also going smoothly. Smoother than it is out there, anyway. She didn't really keep up with the news, but if the state was desperate enough to spent millions on a hybrid superhuman, then it didn't take an intellect of Lyre's caliber to figure that something was up.
Crack. Lyre jolted at the sudden sound. The papers in her hand fell to the floor, drifting a bit in the air before resting on the white linoleum. Incubator fluid dribbled out of the small crack and soaked a page in the process—not that soaked paperwork was of any actual concern, but.... Shit. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. This can't be happening.
Slowly but surely the incubator stability began to weaken. Cracks spread across the glass tube, and if the computer screen was set to display biofluid levels it would certainly be within dangerously low territory. Thankfully all doors and windows were airtight. The saline liquid all but poured onto the floor.
The specimen emerged from the hopeless ruin of broken glass and biofluid.
It was too early. Much too early.
Lyre remained frozen in place, her socks and pants getting drenched in liquid. Somehow she had enough control over her body to slightly lift the pillow, just barely keeping it dry.
@SporkoBug
Beneath the noise of fluid bubbling through the incubator, Lyre hummed and whistled as she reviewed her records. She sat on the floor, back against the wall, a pillow decorated with music notes sandwiched between her knees and chest. One hand held onto a couple papers and the other fiddled with the pillowcase in her lap. A bunch of other documents laid strewn about on the floor—a mess she would later dread cleaning up. Everything always had to go through paperwork and authorities, and they had to fax everything to Lyre's room. A stupid arrangement, but it was one that the young scientist couldn't fight her way out of no matter how hard she tried—and she did try.
She twisted a corner of her pillow, the decoration on the pillowcase having faded there from constantly being rubbed. One glance at the vitals screen—kept safely windowed in another room—told Lyre that everything here was also going smoothly. Smoother than it is out there, anyway. She didn't really keep up with the news, but if the state was desperate enough to spent millions on a hybrid superhuman, then it didn't take an intellect of Lyre's caliber to figure that something was up.
Crack. Lyre jolted at the sudden sound. The papers in her hand fell to the floor, drifting a bit in the air before resting on the white linoleum. Incubator fluid dribbled out of the small crack and soaked a page in the process—not that soaked paperwork was of any actual concern, but.... Shit. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. This can't be happening.
Slowly but surely the incubator stability began to weaken. Cracks spread across the glass tube, and if the computer screen was set to display biofluid levels it would certainly be within dangerously low territory. Thankfully all doors and windows were airtight. The saline liquid all but poured onto the floor.
The specimen emerged from the hopeless ruin of broken glass and biofluid.
It was too early. Much too early.
Lyre remained frozen in place, her socks and pants getting drenched in liquid. Somehow she had enough control over her body to slightly lift the pillow, just barely keeping it dry.
@SporkoBug
© 2007-2024