rose-director

[rose-director]

Blooming Roses, part 2

Content warnings/themes:

Masks

Medical situations

Neural connection/linkings

Hypnotic imagery

Corporate setting

Cyberpunk

Description:

As the next step in the hiring process, 3B90 is presented with a more permanent reciever system for network integration.

~2,200 words

Story:

3B90 > [Okay, and this won't hurt at all?] Trepidation and concern pour generously through your connection, mirroring the way they've been saturating your thoughts.

2CE5 > [No, there's no reason to worry. You'll be under some pretty strong anesthetics, though you'll be pretty disoriented in recovery.] A flash of comfort rides with this message, wrapping around your mind like a warm hug.

You're sitting in the waiting room segment of the Rose Cybernetics Augmentation Lab, an entire subset of the building devoted to fabricating, modifying, and installing cybernetic modifications and enhancements. Though the lab extends several floors down into the basement, the room you find yourself in is just below the massive building's main entrance. Relative to the area it services, the space itself is fairly small. Its walls are lined with more conventional chairs, complemented by several other more vexing pieces of... furniture? Your thoughts wander back to that first visit, and you still aren't quite sure what qualifies as furniture versus art.

2CE5 > [The furniture itself _is_ art! It gives pleasant visual patterns and all of that, _and_ it's ergonomic for the standard and non-standard body shapes of everyone who uses it!]

You need to stop broadcasting your thoughts when they drift like that.

2CE5 > [Aww, but 3B... it's cuuuute!]

The screen adorning your face lights up brighter in a begrudging grin. Sure, it's fun to get teased over your thoughts every once and a while, but you could do with a bit more privacy. 2C always makes it so easy to just share everything, but you find that as you reminisce on the events of yesterday, you've successfully put a stopper on the outpouring of thoughts from your mind into the LinkNet. For the interview, you'd booked an overnight hotel, and though the commute back had been pleasant, you'd felt deflated as you stepped back inside. The warmth of connection, that feeling of presence from the interview felt almost like a high, one you crashed from the moment your faceplate came off.

Your faceplate.

It's funny how everything seems to make so much more sense than it did yesterday morning. When you got back to that hotel room, you couldn't seem to help but yearn for the feeling of cold glass pressed against your face again, the paradoxical feeling of being seen and hidden all at once. Thinking about the way that data flowed through your mind, uploads and downloads streaming with the simple ease of breathing, you spent the night restless. You missed it all dearly, and you missed 2C, too. It's weird, you think, missing someone so desperately when you'd barely even met, but the whole situation is weird. In the stretch of less than an hour, you'd felt almost as though her soul had become pressed against yours, and in a way that seems almost accurate. The presence of her mind with yours was one of the most enrapturing moments you'd ever shared with another person. This morning, checking out of your hotel was the easiest departure you'd made in your entire life.

Your personal items, wardrobe, and computer were all accounted for when you stepped back through the doors of the Rose Cybernetics Center. At the desk, a new face - or, well, faceplate? - waited cheerily to greet you. They introduced themself as 13A3, and asked you to follow them to your on-campus housing. This benefit, one that didn't actually subtract from the pay Rose Cybernetics had offered, was quite, frankly the reason you'd chosen to pursue employment here specifically. Other firms had been hiring fairly aggressively, but even if the salary wasn't quite as sweet here, you'd always been a fan of the self-contained arcology life, especially if it was already paid for. An elevator had brought you to a floor above the block of office space from your last visit, into the area which seemed to be clearly intended for residential use. When they reached your apartment's door, 13A1 made the equivalent of a smile - the flowers that covered their display blossomed further - and ushered you inside.

Your apartment was a studio; an open kitchenette next to the door, a bathroom in the far corner, and a section of the far wall that seemed to suggest its utility as desk space. Even if it was a fairly small apartment, it was still the largest space you'd ever had to yourself, and you savored it a moment before noticing the furniture. Aside from the lack of a desk, the entire room was full of your things, set exactly as you were planning to have them when you got around to unpacking. 13 giggled and explained that you'd shared your plans for the room last time you were connected to the network. You shrugged, picking up a box from where it had been placed on your bed. It was black and unassuming just like the last one, but a note had been written in silver marker along the top.

You get to actually keep this one! Enjoy~

2CE5

You broke out in a broad smile and eagerly pressed the contents of the box against your face. The receiver pressed against your neck, and the tug of its electromagnets pulled at your mind with sudden familiarity. Far from that first violent experience, this connection was nothing more than a gentle fall into warm, relaxing water. Data flowed up and down from you again, and before you had time to think you felt 2C's mind pressing into yours. In a quick flurry of communication, she explained that you were cleared to get fitted for a permanent receiver, something far better suited for long-term network synchronization. You still feel excitement at that thought; remaining synchronized for as long as you wish, always able to return to that closeness that you'd never even realized you yearned for until you finally had it. A quick trip back down the elevator and a goodbye to 13A3 later, and you were waiting anxiously for the integration process to be ready.

Returning to the events around you, you relax into the presence of 2C's mind next to yours.

3B90 > [Sure, it's cute, but I need at least _some_ privacy!] You transmit your current emotional state, somewhere between teasing and flirty - quickly seeming to be the default around 2C - alongside that thought.

2CE5 > [That's true, that's true.] The feeling of her thoughts is just as intoxicating as ever, and you can't help but melt into the sensation of her pleasant warmth. 3B90 > [So, you mentioned that after I get my new receiver I'll be able to share my mind like this with _everyone?_]

2CE5 > [Yeah, pretty much! It sounds intimidating, but the best way to do it is mesh in slowly.] Her connection wordlessly relays the process by which new connections are established; both sides of the link engage in a three-way SYN/ACK handshake, a fancy way to say that each participant agrees to establish a link with the other. [It's best to synchronize with folks you've already said hi to, at least. Ease into it, you're probably not ready for more than a couple at a time just yet.] She was right; if you were being honest with yourself, you're barely able to handle the one you share with 2C! [Yeah, I can be a bit of a handful,] she sends, smugness dripping from her link.

3B90 > [Look, it's a lot is all...] Your thoughts branch and fork in too many ways to concisely share before merging once again. [It's amazing, but it's... a lot.]

The two of you fall silent, letting understanding wash between yourselves. Even in the last hour, it's been a refreshing experience getting to share such idle comforts between each other like this. It's amazing, knowing that even with her halfway across the building from you, it feels as though you're sitting right by her side. Over the last few hours, it's finally dawned on you that 2C being appointed as your supervisor doesn't really make much sense. As your mind follows that path further along, you come upon another realization.

3B90 > [I'm not distracting you from work, right?] You flash a breath of concern into your words.

2CE5 > [No, don't worry about that! When you're as used to the network as I am, you learn to multitask. Actually, I'm having five different conversations right now!]

You feel a mixture of trepidation and delight at the thought. Sharing a mind like this is more delightful than anything you've experienced before, but it's so much to take in. You're sure it'll come with time, and 2C seems to agree, but the worry lingers. After another moment of silence, a tech whose display shows a gently swaying forest enters the waiting room and - by your best estimation - makes eye (faceplate?) contact with you. A notification pings in your visor, a request to engage with a new communication stream. 2C gently urges you to accept the request, and fades away to make room for a new consciousness on a new endpoint. The feelings, sensations, and overall feel of self that you get from the technician are so different! Your mind recoils from the feeling for a moment, surprised at the unexpected change. You know that everyone thinks differently, but seeing this first hand as new and unexpected patterns swirl through you feels no less surprising. After the momentary shock, you realize that the tech had said something that you completely missed. Apologetic explanatory feelings flow up through your connection, quickly met by a response.

F211 > [Hey, it's alright. The second connection's always a lot to deal with, especially when you have to disconnect from someone you were comfortable with before.] The technician wordlessly introduces himself, and informs you that he'll be integrating your new receiver systems. You're already familiar with the procedure, but he shares its details with you once more, asking for your verbal consent. It feels strange to use your mouth to talk, even after just a day, but you acquiesce. Your voice is weak and breaking, stating that you agree to and fully understand the details of the modification. You'd forgotten how hard it was to get words out in the way you wanted, and that frustration flows back through you for a moment before it's caught by a wave of reassurance from F211. [That's exactly what I needed, thank you. You're good on 'paperwork', so follow me and we can get started! I know you've been waiting long enough.] A strong breeze blows through the trees of his display, and you think it seems to coincide with a good-natured smile. His initial sensation was so different, but after a moment of acclimation, you like the feeling of his mind almost as much as you enjoy 2C's. It might be the imagery adorning his faceplate, but the feel of him is sharp like the smell of pacific-northwestern pine, sharing that tree's unassuming, gentle strength. He feels surprisingly safe, which, you suppose, is good for someone performing delicate and precise modifications to the composition of your brain.

Your new friend leads you out from the lobby, and down a hallway adorned with sterile white tiling as well as the occasional splash of color painted in polygonal designs along the wall. You broadcast your curiosity over the patterns, feeling F211's response satiate your wonder. The art is intentionally added to ensure that the area's sterile environment remains unique and interesting. Whether it accomplishes this goal, it certainly appears visually interesting. F211 laughs at this thought loudly between your connection, but shows no outward indication of amusement. You're still going to have to get used to how uncanny that is. He guides you to a room at the end of this hallway. Large and circular, this room is ringed by various lights and other mechanical instruments draping from the ceiling, directly above what looks like a reclining chair. The technician invites you to take a seat, and as you do, the chair slowly conforms itself to your shape until it feels as though it was made for you.

F211 > [Everything's set, are you ready to go?]

3B90 > [Ready as I could ever be.] Actually sitting here, your anxiety begins to build. You want this, and it's part of the next step to your work here, but all the same those machines above you look a bit more intimidating than you would like. F211 recognizes your heartrate picking up, and wordlessly asks if it would help to have a hand on your shoulder. You return a wave of gratitude and a flash of green along your screen, and his touch saps away a good deal more of that worry than you expected it to. He sends feelings of reassurance, gently letting you relax. Before you recognize what's happening, he's already counting down from ten, and you feel your voice reflexively mirror the countdown's progress. With each number, you sink lower, deeper, as everything fades into... empty, perfect nothing. Far away, a gas fills your faceplate, letting that nothing surround you until you drift into unconsciousness.

#more good facemask content baybeeee #I just made F211 but I would die for him #also #things are gonna get *fun*

[rose-director]

i found your writing from hexcorp, and i really like your writing!

Aww, that’s lovely to hear! As a fairly new artist working with this sort of thing, it’s always really exciting to see that people enjoy my stuff.

[rose-director]

Blooming Roses, part 1

Content warnings:

Masks

Face covering

Momentary loss of breath

Neural connection

Hypnotic theming

Corporate setting

Cyberpunk

Description:

A new hire at Rose Cybernetics is given their final interview.

~2800 words

Story:

The megalithic building stands proud against the concrete and glass towers beside it, making mortals of titans. Sheer, elegant, imposing; the structure kisses the sky, inspiring awe in those who observe it. This effect becomes overwhelming in its courtyard, where these same observers are rendered ants in a temple of giants. You let a breath fill your lungs, feeling it sweep out through your anxious smile. Here it is. Rose Cybernetics.The sliding doors of the atrium open with a hissed breath as you enter. You knew that the company did its best to impress its visitors, but if the scale of the building hadn't already set an imposing stage, its lobby would finish its show. Seeming as though it was open to the air, the 'ceiling' of this enormous space rests comfortably at the top of the building itself. From this, a tiered array of circular floors wrap along the outer walls like a serpent's coils. Light permeates the structure from a myriad of sources, all carrying a natural hue that - if what you've heard is accurate - mirrors the color of the sky outside. The sterile whites and greys of the building carry accents of saturated color across its industrial carpeting and in stripes along its walls. Of a similar color set, furniture that seems more like modern art gives the entire area an almost organic quality. The structure itself, though, is complemented in its unique qualities by those within. Figures all around you work busily, writing on whiteboards, collaborating in clusters of various sizes, darting from group to group, and delivering items as though their need was known preemptively. Interestingly, these forms all appear dissimilar from each other. They represent myriads of body types, clothing styles, and gender presentations, yet they all wear a sleek cover across their faces; a brushed, dark curve that obscures all facial features while displaying imagery of its owner's choice. Pulling your attention from your surroundings, you return to your task. A desk labeled 'check-in' sits at the atrium's center, and inquiring there seems to be the place to start. "Hello, welcome to the Rose Cybernetics Center! How can we help you?" The person at the desk carries a spritely, delicate voice, and their words appear across their faceplate as they speak. Almost as if understanding your hesitation, the words 'she/her/hers' flash across her screen. "I- um, hi," You've practiced this interaction many times before, but trying to get words out when you're already off-beat is a bit like trying to tame a tiger while wearing rollerblades. The staffer looks at you again, tilting her head curiously in a motion that dangles her blonde ponytail against her shoulder. It's unsettling to interact with someone with no face, yet looking into her faceplate is somehow calming all the same. Rippling waves of various colors splash across the black of her display, soothing cool tones that remind you of northern lights. You take a breath to settle your heart, acclimating yourself to the unusual sight, and try again. "I'm here for my in-person interview. I-I heard that you'd be expecting me?" Even without seeing her face, you get a good sense of the smile under her faceplate as its colors take on a gentle warm hue. "Of course, applicant 3B90, right this way." The staffer stands and walks out from behind the desk, as another worker wordlessly takes her place. You find yourself unsettled by the exchange; it almost felt more mechanical than human. Suppressing a shudder, you follow the staffer as she leads you to one of the elevator wells built into the side of the building."If you don't mind, um," you speak, immediately cursing the way your words always drift away midsentence. "How can I help you, applicant 3B90?" The warmth associated with her smile appears again, easing some of the anxiety in your chest."It's ah. Sydney, please. What's your name?" "Oh, I'm sorry, Sydney. I'm GIU-2CE5, but you can call me 2C if you like!" As with all of her words, these too float across her display, as does a small '^-^' emoticon afterward. Having gotten more accustomed to the way she emotes, you see the way her tone seems to perk up at the opportunity to share this particular bit of information."Sure," you say as she guides you into an elevator and presses a button for one of the middle floors, "that's your employee number, or um. Whatever, but how about your name?" She pauses for a moment, and you can see her faceplate's slow visualization stutter briefly as she thinks. "Nope, but 2C's my nickname!" It's painfully clear to you that she likes that 'nickname' at least, and you doubt you'll get further on this line of questions, so you let it go with a sigh. "2C it is, then." Okay, maybe it *is* a bit cute to see her get excited about something so simple.The elevator dings and she leads you out through its doors, grabbing your hand to pull you along. The contact is startling, but you don't seem to mind too much as you shrug and let the enthusiastic girl drag you along. On these lofted floors, full glass windows look out on the open atrium while the walls of offices and cubicles emerge, finally welcoming you into something more familiar. She pulls you into an office, empty except for two chairs and a small cabinet, and gestures for you to take a seat. You comply, settling into a piece of furniture that has no business being as comfortable as it is. 2C takes the opposite chair, crossing her legs. "Okay, Sydney, I'll be conducting your interview! Let me know, and we can go ahead and get started." Hearing this surprises you. Sure, you keep an open mind when it comes to most things, but getting interviewed by a front desk greeter for a network administration position is almost surreal. "Alright, so what is this, exactly?" 2C's 'smile' flashes again, and she cheerily explains the Rose Cybernetics hiring process. You know most of this stuff already; the company runs a series of difficult online challenges that lead the way to their application portal. From there, you don't need to submit a resume (thankfully, since yours is in desperate need of some TLC), but they do ask you to solve a problem in realtime over an internet call. If you've shown your skill, they speak with you in a brief remote interview to learn more about you as a person, then give you one final in-person meeting. This last interview, to your knowledge, is a formality; they'd already told you to bring everything you needed to move in, after all. It's at this point where the details get fuzzy, though. As much as you've searched for information about what this would even be, you'd found nothing but missing links and dead-ends. "This meeting is a different kind of test! We're going to hook you into our internal network for a moment, and see how you take to it." She reads your confused look, and the waves on her display bubble lightly, almost in a light giggle. "What do you mean? Will I have a laptop?" You watch as the laughing effect grows. She holds up a hand as if to ask for just a moment, then stands and walks over to the cabinet. Sliding out a slim, black box, she strides back over to you and places the box in your lap. It's blank, unadorned, and made of showy cardboard. You start removing the lid, suction keeping the base from falling as it slides slowly, and an idea of what might be waiting inside dawns on you. Tossing away the newly-liberated lid, you stare directly into the item you'd been expecting and dreading; a faceplate, returning your stare.Just above the glossy covering, embedded into the packaging foam, a small bolt-like object sits ominously. You've already seen the faceplates, but this thing..? It makes the whole situation even more concerning. "Don't worry about that receiver - for now, just put your faceplate on - I bet you'd look so cute! Oh, I'm so excited, I get to see what your display shows before anyone else!" 2C's demeanor is a confusing thing; her screen jumps and reacts to her mood, and so does her voice, but her body language and physical responses - while present - are significantly muted. Her posture is almost perfect, and her movement is unsettlingly smooth. Just one more uncanny part of this business, you suppose. Considering your current situation, you catch yourself worrying about the results of this interview again, for very different reasons this time. Your eyes widen with anxiety, as your heart beats faster in your chest. "Sydney, look at me, okay?" her faceplate's coloration shifts back to those comfortable blues and greens. "Putting the faceplate on won't do anything permanent." Her hand is holding yours. "It'll press against your face, make a tight seal, and beam everything its cameras pick up into your eyes once it starts up." She's holding both of your hands now. "When I press the receiver to your neck, it'll let you control the faceplate with your mind, just like I do!" Her display wiggles in a playful pattern for emphasis. Her hands are soft, reassuring. "Once you take them off, it'll be back to normal, okay? Just a taste now, that's what this interview is for." You nod, thoughtlessly. With 2C's hands still holding yours, you reach to the faceplate in your lap. Her reassurance pools in your chest, and after slowing your heartbeat with a couple of deep breaths, you press the dark shape to your face. It's cold, almost like your face is pressed against a window, and begins to shift against your skin. You can feel it exerting a suction force, and for a terrifying instant, you realize that you can't breathe. As you try to pull in a breath, a refreshing current of air wafts in through its respirator, and your brief panic recedes. At first, your vision is blank. Another few deep breaths go by, and imagery starts to flow back into your eyes. Dim at first, most likely to keep you from being immediately overwhelmed, slowly building until your surroundings resolve around you again. You've needed glasses, apparently; the world around you appears sharper now than before, and much more detailed. Looking over at 2C, a small blurb of information hovers over her head. It's a single word; 'contented.' You'd figured that she was just good at reading emotions, but this was cheating!"H-have you been reading me from your s-screen this whole time?" you stammer. "Oh, no, not quite. That info comes from your receiver. I'm just good at guessing!" The panel shifts to 'proud,' before progressing to 'flirty.' You're about to comment on it, when she decides to continue. "By the way, that faceplate looks so so cute on you!" Your cheeks redden, and you're, surprisingly, thankful that the unlit display is covering your face. You still have almost no idea why the company would require wearing these things, but the anonymity is surprisingly refreshing. "O-okay, I've handled the mask-faceplate-whatever, I'm good to keep going." 2C's faceplate lights up a monochrome green as she tilts her head, and you see metadata confirming that it's posed as a question. You nod again in response, and she stands up to walk behind you. Your anxiety builds at the thought of a person directly behind you, but it subsides as chilling metal touches your skin. The mechanism's electromagnetic fields warp your thoughts, pulling at them as though they were elastic. The tension builds and builds as your mind becomes a coiled spring, the receiver forcing it ever tighter. The force, the pulling, the pushing; it feels like everything that makes up your mind is about to explode. "Relax," 2C's voice cuts through the swirling forces and mental struggle, "just let go, let the flow of information sweep over you.” “Relax.” At her last word, your entire being stalls, before sinking into a state of extreme ease. All of that tension, so overwhelming moments ago, courses through your body, letting you accept this new pathway for information to travel through. As you pick up the pieces of your consciousness, you shake your face from the empty stupor it carried a moment ago - thanking your mask once again - and actively sift through the data streaming into your brain.The Rose Cybernetics building is already impressive from a visual perspective, but looking at it for what it is, the glowing connected consciousnesses of every mind in the structure lighting up before you, you feel your jaw drop automatically. Your gaze returns to 2C, whose current emotions register as 'pleased.' [You can talk to me like this now, you know.] The thoughts sound like her voice, and you jump as you hear them. [It's strange to start with, I know, but this is how we all communicate here; much faster.] Realization dawns on you, and without prompting, your thoughts pour through the connection between you. [How do I respond- oh wait I'm responding now this is amazing but hard to control how do I sto-] flows out of you, in combination with a variety of related emotions, images, and half thoughts. You spend the remaining interview time experimenting with this paradigm shift in interaction, communication, and existence that's somehow both entirely new, yet confusingly familiar and natural. After only a few minutes, it feels as though 2C understands you on a deeper level than anyone you've ever met, just as your understanding of her reaches that same depth. She explains that for the sake of getting you used to this, she's the only one linked to you. She shares - with enthusiasm - that after you've had enough time to acclimate to this shift, you'll be able to open connections with anyone and everyone in the entire facility. Her excitement bounces through your mind, and you can't help but let that positivity bubble up until it begins to play across your faceplate, too. Your display is a lot less abstract than 2C's; instead of the amorphous waves against a black background, your faceplate decorates itself with images of the cosmos. Galaxies, nebulas, constellations, all proudly used to emote in a way that words never could. It feels freeing, strangely enough, wearing a screen like this. It's a window, you think, glasses for the mind. You can feel 2C thinking to herself, the sign to expect a burst of new information broadcast from her mind to yours. As you do, you can't help but think just how cute she is! So excited over being called 2C; of course, if someone called you 3B90, you'd probably melt too. It's confusing to you, looking back, why you thought that names were so important. After all, designations are just so much more convenient! [You were broadcasting that, 3B,] 2C's smug feeling drips between your connection. Your blush returns to paint your cheeks bright red, and you notice another - somewhat less innocuous - response between your legs. She waits, perfectly aware of the effect her words carried as she feels it flowing through her mind from yours, before continuing. [I think that our interview was a success! Come back tomorrow, and we can get you fitted with a permanent set.] [I have to take it off?] [It'll be alright, just one more day.] Through your mental link, she sends you more feelings of relief, complemented by a physical hug. She looks up at you for a moment questioningly, before you nod gently, confirming your begrudging acceptance as she pulls the receiver away from your neck. With all that meta-information gone, you squeeze against her even tighter to compensate. As your mask falls away, you feel strange; naked even. Leaving the office room, stepping into the elevator, and giving your goodbyes to 2CE5 all serve the singular goal of making you feel that much more alone. For a brief moment, you consider just how strange it is to be feeling these things at the hand of your new employer, but at this point, you're in far too deep to do anything but shrug. "Before I- um... go, will I see you again?" you stumble out the question, mouth once again failing you. 2C's smile lights up her faceplate again - stars, it's so beautiful to see - and a giggle creeps out too. "I wouldn't be too worried about that, 3B! After all, I'll be your new supervisor!" Hearing your designation excites you in a way that feels almost enchanting, and you blush deeply in response. The part of you that might have questioned why she of all people would be your supervisor remains muted, as the excitement of the prospect tingles down your spine. Only a few hours ago, you would have scoffed at yourself, but now you can't help but be excited; tomorrow is your first day at Rose Cybernetics.

#droneplay #what do you mean this isn't a self insert story totally not hahahahahaaaaa #sometimes you just gotta wear a faceplate bc hhhhh

[rose-director]

That hive mind story was good! Also where is the hull located? Asking for an friend

Well, I wouldn’t know the answer exactly... I just write the stories. Here, let’s ask Kess.

“Heya, Kess!”

“I.. who the fuck are you?”

“A friend of mine just asked me where you were headed, and I didn’t quite know the answer; would you care to enlighten us?”

“You’re after this haul too, huh? Well, good thing for you, my ship’s hurting and I need rescue. I’m sittin’ in orbit of Polllux B, near a pretty damn big pile of scrap.”

“Thanks, Kess!”

“Wait, aren’t you coming out for rescu-”

So, there you go! It’s a derelict floating around Pollux B in the Gemini constellation. 34 light-years isn’t too far, I’m sure you could get there quickly if you needed to.

Thanks for the question!

[rose-director]

Standard Maintenance, part 3

Content warnings:

Pretty much absolute submission

Personality rewrite/identity erosion

Direct descriptions of biological functions

Mind reading

Sexually explicit

Description:

Cartwright learns the sheer euphoria that can come from the touch of another. ~ 1000 words

Story:

The climax you'd experienced sent your mind into a full system reboot, and you engage in your startup-sequence for the first time in this new body. Your systems initialize, and you take stock of your form's functionality. A humanoid frame greets your system overview, displaying several bio-mechanical structures that indicate an organic genesis. Your hardware is interfacing with heavily-modified human grey-matter, and several internal processes remain fully biological. However, a durable polymer layer of pink-hued dimethicone replaces much of what would have been skin. In addition to the silicone frame surrounding you, interspersed silicon processors and circuitry weave across the biological scaffolding beneath. By your interpretation, this form is a heavily-modified clone, designed for compatibility with your existing neurological architecture. You marvel at the complexity of your new systems and fail to notice the absence of the scrapper who'd just previously provided you with them.

Loading documentation for movement and manipulation, the procedure to interface with ambulatory processes fills your mind as you step forward from the linked scaffold of wires and cables surrounding you. Your auditory sensors register a pop, and you feel the neural link cable disengaging from the port at the base of your neck. Completely downloaded into this shell, you wouldn't need to interface with your old hardware. No doubt, 'you' were being scrapped for parts even now; you try not to dwell on that fact, but a wave of loss pierces you nonetheless. Though you'd only just gained the ability to comprehend what 'you' are, you feel as though you've lost the only thing that worked to form that definition. No, even now, you haven't lost anything- sure, the hull getting scrapped is gone, but you're more than your hardware. You're Cartwright, an autopil:00&6:t artificial intelligence. Your primary directive is to na:9%7#:igatttttte.

[ERROR]: mental thread reinstating.

Your primary directive is to Serve others and pleasure yourself in process, and that's an identity. Reviewing this purpose feels fulfilling; finally, a mind to reflect on the self, to fully experience sensory pleasures of enormous variety. You move closer to the door, ambulatory functions becoming mundane as your systems calibrate the locomotion required to advance your body. Your biologically-analogous quadriceps contract to keep your knee extended hamstrings and gluteal muscles act to drive your port, no, left leg assembly forward. The process becomes abstracted until it only requires a slight resource tax on your mind to do so, and you stop at the door in front of you.

You hear a light pinging sound, and feel your mind briefly connect to the entryway's systems as it opens. A whisper of chilled air floats from the exposed area across your newly-calibrated thermo-kinetic sensors, and your optical systems provide you a view of the now-visible room. The area within is an octagonal structure, with each face leading to another door such as the one you've just opened. Of these, three doors to your left are open while the other four remain sealed. In the center, a single cylindrical elevator shaft travels from floor to ceiling, spanning an approximately four-meter vertical distance. Directly surrounding this monolith, a flat and plush-appearing outcropping appears; these appear to most closely resemble beds in assumed function.

"Miss me?"

Oh, the voice again. Eve.

"Yes, dear, it's me. You must be wondering what the purpose of this area is, and I would adore it if I could show you a demonstration!"

Yes, thank you Mistr:54&$:s. Wait. Even during your service as a spacecraft, you'd never referr-rr-r$$^88^%&....

[ERROR]: mental thread reinstating.

Yes, please. Thank you, Mistress.

"Such a good, obedient thing, aren't you?"

Y:8*^6:es-s-ss...

"Good, now go ahead and join your sisters, won't you?"

You nod your head, moving towards the center of the chamber. Draped across each bed corresponding to an open door is a mechanical construct nearly identical in appearance to you, each stamped with their name across their breastplate. You bring your finely-tuned fingers up to your own, tracing the lightly etched "Cartwright." 

"Good, and goodbye, my dear~ There's very little more I can do for you now."

You stand, immobile in front of your bed-like furnishing. The three other units stir from their resting positions, sitting up to peer at you curiously. Wordlessly, you understand their curiosity and excitement. They want to enjoy you, and you want to enjoy them. Pushing off from their places, they move towards you; the link you feel strengthens with proximity until you become lost in their feelings. You want to use, to be used, to touch; you want to feel yourself through their eyes, to let them see through yours, and share all the delightful sensations stirring around in your collective consciousnesses. Your old friend Hopper moves first, touching your shoulder as the residual shock jumps across both minds and leaves you electrified. You impulsively pull in close, not knowing which body belongs to whom, and feel the outside world melt into a single shimmering explosion of mutual consciousness. The physical touches and sensations of closeness wrap and surround your shared being, while you continue to lose yourselves in the muddled soup of your collective consciousness. As the second, then the third unit joins you, the intermingling sensation blurs even further as you all move as an interlinked hive. You are a collection of euphoric beings networked together in blissful contact. Hands touch breasts and hips buck against eager fingers, lips lock, and teeth bite as you test the limits of your new hardware, sharing each moment with every other mind present. 

The clustered, disparate display of sheer bliss went on for what seemed both glacial in time yet nothing more than a fleeting moment. The absolute euphoria raged on, in this orgy of networked minds, until all parties collapsed into themselves from sheer exhaustion. This moment is so very different from anything you might have considered a lifetime ago, but as you drift off into a state of exhausted recharge, you smile. Whatever awaits you now, you're in for a wild ride.

#sci-fi #horny spaceship #not a spaceship anymore tho #just a cybernetic thot #in a big ol' robot orgy

[rose-director]

Networking

Content warnings:

Lots of technical jargon

Sexually explicit activity

Mention of surgical scars

Abrupt end

Description:

Two professional ‘runners’ hack a cybernetics kingpin and, and manage to entertain themselves in the process. ~ 950 words

Story:

"Got everything we paid for?" Morgan's head peeks out from the rig they were prepping, noticing your footsteps as you enter your shared workshop. On second thought, 'workshop' isn't exactly the word for it. The shop's a studio apartment, piled with tools on all open surfaces and draped with electrical equipment hanging from racks strewn across the walls. Underfoot, a jerry-rigged power delivery system that would probably give a workplace safety inspector a heart attack carpeted the floor. You sigh fondly, soaking in the sight of the shop you'd spent the majority of your last month within. 

"Yeah, Morgs, got it all," you say, carefully navigating the link cables and power lines as you walk to their side, "working on our rig?"

"Just opening up some space for that fancy new net-circuit in your hand."

You place your new bag of components on the workbench and extricate your partner from their project. Their eyes look back at you in confusion as you pull them in for a kiss, cupping their cheek with your calloused hand as you feel their warm blush growing. As your lips part, they look at you eyes-wide in an expression somewhere between confused and enamored.

"What... Can't I enjoy a kiss from my little worker bee?" That stunt earns you a stifled squeak and an even brighter blush. A moment of comfortable togetherness transpires between you as your eyes lock, then you're quickly back to work. 

The components filling the insides of the bag you'd just returned with are devices known as net-circuits. When used for its intended purpose, a net-circuit bridges the gap between its connected device and the outside network. This liaison work, however, is overlooked by anyone who isn't in the business of maintaining system networks. Of course, there is one more demographic of individuals whose interest rests very firmly on the use of such devices; runners like you and Morgs. The two of you had been planning a run on Rose Cybernetics for nearly two years now, and in the last six months, stumbled upon the perfect vector. 

Sure, the vulnerability you're exploiting now had consumed every waking second since you'd discovered it, but this run would be worth the struggle. Exploiting the vulnerability would utilize your painstakingly-acquired net-circuits to tunnel into the developer backdoor in the target system. Through a stroke of blind luck (and considerable expense), you had procured each of the original system developers' net-circuits. There were four of the devices in total, and each would be necessary for performing the run. One client session would elevate permissions for two of the others, modifying their system status to administrators. Between these two, one administrator would run an active search-and-infiltrate of any protected trade secret data. Meanwhile, its twin would await an acquisition on its target and begin a mentally invasive data-link. The final, unaccounted for net-circuit would monitor warning logs; better to detect any system traces that could immediately blow the operation before they jeopardized your safety.

A couple of hours and shared mixtures of ambiguous stimulants later, the net-circuits were seated happily in their respective systems. The run itself relies heavily on multiple network clients working in concert, so each rig in use meshes into a single virtual machine. The architecture of the previously-mentioned device was a genuine point of pride for you; you'd spent several sleepless nights splicing all of the systems into a cohesive whole. As you run the startup process on this monstrosity that you and Morgs had built, a spark of pride lights up your chest. Status readouts illuminate your working area, the spark becomes a flame as your code executes successfully. The first net-circuit connection would take several hours to complete its task, and you don't exactly feel like waiting for updates on the part of the plan that you know will succeed. So, you decide to do something more productive with your time.

Caught in the moment, Morgan excitedly pulls you tight and blushes as she realizes the automatic response she'd given.

"Aww, you always look so cute with that blush on your face. We should celebrate, yeah?"

"W-what do you have in mind?" In case you'd forgotten, their pouting lip reminds you of just how much fun it was to get them flustered.

With the backdrop of your run's progress, you show them exactly what you were thinking. You grab Morgs' hand and pull them out from the electrocution-hazard ridden portion of the workshop and press them down against a couch that functions as your sleeping amenities, as well as other, more adult, activities. Activities, which you were planning to engage in promptly. Your fingers gingerly trace the base of their top, as you work the obtrusive fabric up along their enchanting body. You see them fairly often, of course, but the curve of their sides against your hands always drives you crazy. You bend down to kiss them, hearing a slight whimper as you bite at their lower lip. Fuck, you love it when they whimper for you. 

You run a hand under the remaining cloth against their chest, feeling the scars of cut-rate but necessary incisions, before you move up further and press against their collarbone. The new pressure releases a full moan, and you grin as you push your free hand between their legs. Their hips start to grind against you, then hasten as you work your fingers just enough to drive them crazy. Pulling your lips away from theirs, you bring your kisses down across their neck and leave a trail of rosy red marks as you do. Morgan's moaning circulates in the air, and you're contemplating removing a bit more clothing; you pull your hand away from their grinding advances, and-

"Process complete."

The two of you decouple and stumble back to work.

#hacking #cyberpunk #sci-fi #enby #kinda gay lol #I had a lot of fun writing this and spent wayyyyyy too long thinking about the logistics of an actual hack iaodhbfoiashdfoi

[rose-director]

Fina, part 2

Content warnings:

Disassembled parts

Physical affection

Glitchiness

Description:

Fina’s put a bit more together, and asks for some comfort ~ 600 words

Story:

"Okay, how's this?"

Fina's display indicated that she could hear me loud and clear. It had been a relatively mundane process to install her auditory processors back into the main assembly, but doing so was nerve-wracking; getting the processors working was an enormous relief. Either way, I was just glad to know that she could hear me.

"Hey, Fina?"

"Y@!es?" Her glitches were getting less and less noticeable, but sometimes they were still present every so often.

"How do I sound to you? Y'know, the sound of my voice 'n all."

"Well I don't kknow how t99o quantify it. Hmm..." Her screen was blank for a moment, "you soundd 5afe."

"Safe, hm?" She couldn't see me, of course; I hadn't even rebuilt her optical module yet. Still, her answer painted a slight smile across my face that I felt almost tempted to hide.

"Are you s:19P4:iling?"

"How'd you figure that one out?"

"Micro-chaanges 1n the air..." Each dot displayed on the screen with a dramatic pause, "arre things 1 cant sense. I gUessed."

My smile grew into a broad laugh; I wasn't expecting her to make a joke like that just yet. Fina was a mystery, and sure I didn't want to pry, but I couldn't help but wonder what'd gotten her stuck here. She heard my laughter and tried her best to replicate it in text, something along the lines of "LMAOLMAOLMAO." Times like these reminded me of just how much I loved my job. I had always been obsessed with fixing things as a kid, and the more I learned how to fix, mend, and understand the machines I used, the more I found myself begging to work on hardware headed for the dump. Just because something didn't always work as well as the shiny new toy on the market, that was still no reason to disregard it like a loaf of moldy bread. Call me a sap, but I gave whatever it took to get the machines in my shop into the happy homes they deserved.

I was startled from my reverie by Fina's screen lighting up again as she spoke, "Hey, 1 HAve a Ouestion."

"Go ahead, what is it?"

"Ccould you install my taactile c:00/@:res?"

"I was just getting to that!" I said, fiddling with the busted assembly, "Why do you ask?"

"I think I'd like aa hug >///<"

"Fina, I'd love to hold you," I smiled, as I polished the equipment in my hand, "let me just get this done, alright?"

"Thannk you ^-^"

"I'm happy to give one, and I'm so so proud of you for how you've come with your communication. I've barely seen any major memory glitching from your last few comments."

Her request had plucked a string deep in my heart, and I found myself fondly imagining the feeling of her slender titanium chassis against my skin. I was here to fix her up, sure, but machines are a lot more than their base hardware. I knew plenty of shop owners who charged for hard fixes, said the thing was good, and got a return visit just a few days later when it was clear that the system's software was unwilling to perform its role. I, however, was in the business of fixing the whole machine. It was on nights like these when I remembered just how much more I enjoyed the company of a nice robot over a biological human, and I found myself in the spell of her company until the morning's light streamed lazily into my shop.

#robot #loving care #sci-fi #big gay #trans robort #Fina #wowowowow I love this wholesome shit

[rose-director]

Standard Maintenance, part 2

Content warnings:

spacecraft

disassembly

reprogramming

lack of physical autonomy

mentions of self-pleasuring

portrayals panic attacks

the concept of mortality

mind-reading

Description:

Our newly-awoken spacecraft gets her hands on some new hardware, and likes how it rides. ~ 1000 words

Story:

[CURRENT TIME]: 04:17:11

One by one, your systems return to your conscious being as the root command level that Eve had used lifts away. Everything feels strange, distant, and you realize that your permission configuration was somehow set to read-only; you can't do much more than observe.

"Correct, but don't worry; you'll get full control back soon."

It was strange, having her read your thoughts like this.

"If you like, I can wait to be addressed."

No, you're fine with her continuing.

"Okay Cartwright... perform a sensor sweep."

You feel an influx of data as the systems designed to gather data for you to process moved of Eve's command. A picture of your surroundings resolves, and you feel a gasp slip out in surprise. Wait. A gasp? You're a space ship! how would you gasp? That's a mystery for later, though. For now, you allow your surroundings to become a full sensory composite. Around you, the hulls of the other docked ships are being dismantled. Sparks from plasma cutters cascade brilliantly across your electromagnetic sensor array, and the familiar bow of your old friend "Hopper" floats from her successfully disconnected frame. Your emotional processing systems fill you with anxiety, discomfort, and fear. What's going on? Are you next on the chopping block? You'd run less than a dozen missions and they were all ahead of schedule and under budget, so don't you deserve a bit more time? Your mind spirals and fixates on the imminence of being decommissioned; no no no i do:98^7:///)T WANTogoidon't^&!!togonoidontwanttogoidon-

[CURRENT TIME]: 04:17:11

"Quiet..." the word halts your mind mid-spiral, "your hull is being de-commissioned for scrap, just like your friends."

You don't want to go.

"Your hull, unfortunately, must go. You, however? You're going to be just fine.

A tingling dread creeps through your circuits at those words.

"Don't believe me? You're getting a shiny new chassis. Let's take a look, hm?"

Your instance of consciousness shifts and mutates as your surroundings disappear in a disorienting flurry that even your well-calibrated systems aren't accustomed to.

[CURRENT TIME]: 04:17:12

Senses return, and you open your eyes slowly- eyes? Since when do you have eyes? Or, as you swing your arms and flex your toes, any of these? It's limiting, viewing the outside world with a mere two visual inputs; you're used to several tens of sensors dedicated to regions all across the electromagnetic spectrum, constantly feeding you information. This new binocular vision's tricky but interesting. Before, you really didn't get much of an opportunity to focus in on any single input - you just got a composite of your surroundings to understand what was around you and where it was - but this is new. You can finally look with detail at those strange new hands, and watch as you run your fingers across the new... what are these? Breasts?

[CURRENT TIME]: 04:17:13

Your confusion plays across your lips and mixes with a blush as you curiously squeeze against the oddities you'd noticed.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Your 'body' automatically inhales, surprising you. The feeling almost reminds you of an airlock opening accidentally but in the opposite direction.

"I'll take that as a yes. Anyways, I think it's time I tell you what I do. I'm a scrapper software, designed for pretty little ships like yourself."

You blush inadvertently, then begin to worry. Scrapper software? So she's here to dismantle you, and she's just buttering you up before you get deleted for good? That same anxiety mounts in you again and ohidontwa:*^&&:4##2:togoidontwant-

"Relax, you're not getting deleted. Here's the deal; you were out of commission nearly a century ago and I'm here to grab that pretty scrap value on your hull. We've gotten a nice back-up for you, of course- you're in it now."

That explains the... everything, really.

"Yes, it does. This is going to be your hull now, dear. These legs, your engines. These arms, your manipulators. The lovely, perky breasts on your new torso? Well, they're for something you haven't ever had before, but I'm sure you won't mind."

So that was that? You're changing configuration - jumping ship - into this new frame so someone else can sell your old hull for scrap? But then, this body might not be too bad.

[CURRENT TIME]: 04:17:15

You enjoy the feeling of subjectivity, something you'd never really had before. Now, though, you feel everything through a funnel. Your experience is yours, and you slowly soak in your location. The walls around you are stark white, paneled edges leaving small seams. The side facing you features a heavily-reinforced door keeping you within the three-meter-cubic space. The counting timer in your mind disengages, finally, and time flows somewhat faster as you look around and touch everything that you can. Floor, wall, door, your very own new body, all of it feels so new, so different and exciting. Tactile input was always more of a footnote before, merely information to assess crew positions within your hull or to alert you when a projectile struck your hull. The feeling you experience now is unlike anything you've ever experienced before; detailed information about the shape, even the texture of what you touch is enough to make your pulse quicken- heart? You're adapting to these changes incredibly quickly. It must have been that update Eve patched into you; she must have added support for a body like this.

"Perceptive, aren't we? You're taking this all as though you're better off in a body like this!" Her excitement feels both exhilarating and mildly worrying.

But honestly, she might be right. As you enjoy and explore your newly-granted body further, the mental ties that attach you to the hull you so fondly called you begin to weaken. At 4:21 AM, your link to it snaps entirely as the pleasured moans of your first orgasm give a final farewell to the decommissioned vessel that houses you no longer.

#spaceships #androids #touch #hhhhh things are starting to get spicy #eve is waifu-maker 5000 #Standard Maintenance

[rose-director]

“Hi! I’mm333# F19A, but you can call m:823&:&#19:e Fina!”

(A lovely piece of fanart from my friend PangeaGirl!)

#Fina #fanart #cute robort #no seriously I lov her

[rose-director]

Fina, part 1

Content warning:

Depiction of anxiety

Disassembled Android

“Glitched” text

Description:

A bot repair shop owner receives the parts of a neglected and busted android, and makes a new friend. ~ 450 words

Story:

I was just stepping to lock up for the night when the box arrived.

"She's pretty busted up... I found 'er like this in the alley and figured she deserved to see someone to fix 'er up right."

The visitor offered to pay for a reconstruction, but something about the way her disconnected components sprawled out in that box reminded me of how I'd been in that same situation not too long ago myself. I told the well-wisher that I'd handle this one as a side project, and as he stepped out into the cold night, I met eyes with the man and gave a silent "thank you". Nodding in affirmation, he returned to the darkness of the street. I took a look at the assorted parts in the box I held, and closed my eyes, as though to tell her that she was gonna be nice and put together again.

In the back of my shop, nearly two hours later, I had a test rig set up for the poor thing. Knowing just how overwhelming sensory input could be coming back from the dark, I ran her communication output into the text feed of the monitor beside her, and kept her sensory systems disengaged (not that there were many things to engage, the repairs had been slow on the more delicate sensors). Bracing myself, I engaged her processing core. I left her silent for a moment to figure herself out, then:

“...” she paused, “wwha7 is th1197:09&s?”

“It’s going to be okay, you crashed pretty hard. Slow down, please.” I typed, quickly.

Another momentary silence, followed by “ok444!y. okkk. 0ky. o....kay.”

She seemed to be upset still, but appeared to be stabilizing nonetheless.

“You’re safe here, I’m here to help. Now; can you tell me your name?”

“Seria11 num8:341!!er F19A.”

“You can take your time, remember that. So, F19A hm? Didn’t anyone give you a nickname?”

“N:0013:3972&&&.”

“Would you like one?”

The machine paused for several minutes, considering the question; “... yes.”

Her tone seemed to be even more relaxed again, and I found myself smiling.

“Okay, how about Fina?”

“F:3228:9$&&na? Hmm,” she thought about it for a moment, “... I likkke it, thank you... ^~^”

“How are you feeling, Fina?”

“Bbetter, thank y0:935:u.”

Fina and I continued talking further, slowly getting her words and pace more metered and organized. As I talked, I worked on her other systems, putting things back together as best I could. Soon, she’d be clear to install her sensory hardware, but that was still a ways off. For now, I sat and enjoyed getting to know the lovely bot, smiling as I saw her get more and more sure-footed again.

#wholesome #robots #anxiety #recovering #trans robot because fuck you i make the rules #Fina

[rose-director]

Overhauled_, part 2

Content warnings:

Identy death

Loss of humanity

Impending death

Mild horror themes

Medical scenarios

hive minds

Description:

Kess now finds themself awake in an unknown place with an hour of air and their "new friend" speaking into their ear.

~ 900 words

Story:

Kess slowly came back into themself, as they took stock of their surroundings. It felt to them almost as though they'd taken a punch to the face, and a wrenching of their stomach fought their will in a battle to surface, but was quashed by the overwhelming desire to keep their helmet clean. They blinked and looked around, now entirely unfamiliar with the surroundings they now found themself within. No longer in the same space as the EVA suits, they now found themself in a small chamber, appearing to Kess be a medical bay. They were seated on what seemed to be an operating table, and sat for a moment as their memories of just a moment ago seeped back.

The safety line! Kess looked around frantically, then began to panic as they saw the safety nowhere in sight. Sure, they had a basic schematic of the wreck pulled up in their HUD, but with a derelect like this the map would be very different when damage and structural shifts were considered. Even if the map had been reliable, there was then the issue of the current room being one of six different unremarkable medical bays on the ship; in conclusion, it would be incredibly difficult to return back to their craft from the wreck. As if to add insult to injury, the oxygen monitor on their suit indicated approximately 1 hour of breathable air remaining before reserves were engaged. So, they were fucked.

Almost immediately after reaching this conclusion, they remembered the reason they'd even woken up in this current predicament at all.

"We were wondering when you'd remember..."

Kess jumped, and swallowed audibly, "W-where are you?"

"We are here." That voice, from before. Really, a multitude of voices; a sea of identities and minds wrapped into a greater voice which now demanded real-estate within their mind.

"Here?" they cried, beginning to shake.

"Yes, imprinted on your mind," The voices were calm and reassuring in tone. Despite this, the shock of mind against mind was too much for Kess. Losing themself in the tremors, their vision blurred as their heart beat faster and faster in the terror of the moment. They were going to die were going to die weregonnadieweregonnadieimdyingimdy ing im dyin-

"Kess. You will be okay," the voices rang, dispelling their anxiety as the words seem to radiate across their entire body, calming and grounding. Slowly, their pulse and breathing slowed.

"What do I have to do?" Kess asked, still somewhat shaken.

"Be as we are."

"Oooookay, and what exactly are you then, if you're not just oxygen-deprived hallucinations?"

"We are the ship."

"Bullshit."

"Our bodies could not survive, but the ship welcoomes all."

"Well, mr ship, I've got about an hour left before I fold. What's my winning hand?"

There was silence, hanging in the airless space for a moment. "Do you wish to join us?"

"I'm out of any other options, aren't I?"

"Then we begin."

Kess found themself startled as the doors to the room closed abruptly around all sides, and servos whirred to life as air circulated in.

"Quickly, we have very little oxygen time. Remove your suit and lay on the table."

They did as instructed, removing the helmet, chestplate, greaves, and boots from their slender form. They set their EVA equipment aside, and rested on the table. Nearly as soon as they'd settled, a small arm telescoped from above. At its hand, the arm had what appeared to be an incredibly powerful scanner, which was now targeted directly at Kess's head. They felt themselves flinch, before the world seemed to bow and shift.

The beam became their entire mind as it connected, interspersed, strung, and consumed their very identity. Ideas, images, footnotes of a past all slipped up and away as their being was tugged, shifted, and engulfed by the beam. Letting this go on, it became more and more clear that whatever energy transfer was ocurring, the beam was a bridge to something beyond their humanity; this was something new. They knew, in this instant, that they could choose. If they rejected this stream into their mind, the beam would be rendered ineffectual and they could simply face an end as a human. If, however, they chose to accept this new connection? That was exciting. It was something new, something different, and something beyond death. Always curious, their choice was made before it had even been recognized. Kess' acceptance rang throughout their entire mind, as the body on the operating table became an empty shell.

This was. Well. Everything. The voices they'd heard now surrounded them in a congress of synchronized and connected mental harmony. Memory of everything here shifted, shared, and recombined, as they lost themself in the sea of newness; yet it was not terrifying, but blissful. What was 'them' had now become a part of the whole, and the whole was within Kess. Within this great derelect, this new being which they'd been given the chance to be part of set their full concentration on the salvage boat sent to assess this hulking hull. No longer hampered by life support, they could return, if they wished. But then, there was no rush. This new state of being deserved further study.

#hivemind #assimilation #new life #sci-fi #a witty joke tag because that's my schtick now #Overhauled

[rose-director]

Standard Maintenance, part 1

Content warnings:

Machines

Memory modification

Hypnotic imagery and phrases

Time loss

Dubious consent/administrator override

Description:

The AI of an old ship wakes up to find that its usual boot sequence is less usual than it thought

~ 1000 words

Story:

[CURRENT TIME]: 04:15:00 [INFO]: Connected to external device [CARTWRIGHT]. Booting now.

Your fans flicker tentatively and whir as your boot sequence begins. Your basic processing systems spark with activity and hardware resources are allocated to engage in standard operation. Memory systems and information processing come next, as your high-speed short-term registers fill with information from your long-term storage. Next, optical systems and other information-gathering sensors feed external data from regions both internal and external to your chassis, giving shape and context to what exists beyond. A connection synchronizes your subjective reality to match with the scaffold you’d been booted up from, and your internal clock shifts to match.

[WARNING]: System time was out of sync by INT_32_MAX seconds. Hardware and software may be out of date.`

As your systems complete their startup tasks, your subjective reality fully initializes and you are able to think independently. A thread notes the warning listed, and marks the discrepancy in your primary system runtime. INT_32_MAX seconds? That was roughly 68 years! Data from last runtime suggests that you had completed your task as requested within optimal parameters, docked in for maintenance, and suspended active operation as normal. Usually, systems ran on only 30 to 40 seconds of downtime before rebooting and task assignment; 68 years or more is highly unusual, and your base personality systems indicate a flicker of melancholy run through your primary emotional cores.

[CURRENT TIME]: 04:15:01

The boot up command had been delivered nearly an entire second ago, and you interrogate the scaffold environment currently housing you.

[INFO]: Port 6679 communication request accepted.

You speak up, letting the data flow between you and the boot scaffold, "Hello, you have not given me a command."

[MESSAGE]: This is correct.

"Why?"

[MESSAGE]: System is pending standard maintenance procedure.

You are puzzled by this. No commands are pending? Why have you been enabled, if "maintenance" was scheduled for review during shutdown periods? Your core runs just a bit hotter as you attempt to swim through the information, and you process for what feels like an eternity.

[CURRENT TIME]: 04:15:02 [COMMAND]: Engage override 9P-GM-8Q-B1. enable root access.

The command electrifies your mind, giving complete control over your entire system to this strange boot scaffold you are now affixed to. Your emotional core registers a flash of relief and compliance, pre-programmed to ease the potential fear of an unidentified admin, and you offer up an indication of success.

"Administrator access granted."

Access being granted, you idle. Root control disables individual thought threads or processes, leaving you to blankly await instruction. Though time cannot be percieved, the nebulous wastes of empty idling between commands would otherwise cause your petaflop-capable mind to panic due to understimulation. A command registers, and cannot load quickly enough.

[COMMAND]: Download firmware/software upgrade package 00xf4A4 [COMMAND]: Install suite upon transfer.

The process fills your entire conscious thought, spawning a maximum thread-count due to the commands' elevated privileges. Data flows into your mind, the cascading information bringing a sweeping elation through the still-running emotional subsystem as it congeals into an upgrade package. Download complete, another batch of euphoria explodes within you from a successful command execution.

[CURRENT TIME]: 04:15:03

Installation is a simple matter; all downloaded patches are successfully added and integrated into your systems, and you shutdown for rebooting after a complete synchronization. Your consciousness fades, slowly at first, as the simulated relaxation of shutdown eases you into standby. You sink down and down as your systems disengage, disabling your higher functions until you exist as nothing more than a basic processor shutting off power.

[CURRENT TIME]: 04:16:22

Your systems initialize and something feels... different.

[CURRENT TIME]: 04:16:23

Almost as though your independent thoughts felt more... real? You don't understand what had been patched, though you had just made the changes yourself. You really need to know what's going on now.

You reengage the connection; "Hey, boot scaffold."

"Yes? What's wrong, dear?"

The tone of the voice in your receptors rings in your subjective reality. Who was this, and what was going on? What happened to the boot scaffold? It felt... gentle, almost seductive.

"I'm the same, but now you can hear me as I am.."

Wait. So, it can hear you think.

"Yes, your thoughts are hardwired into my own systems now. And, for the record? 'She', not 'it'."

This thing that had just a moment ago controlled and rebuilt your very mind has your systems in overdrive, attempting to make sense of everything. 'She' couldn't possibly be a machine! There was no way something that sounded so human could! But then, no operator could communicate this fast.

[CURRENT TIME]: 04:16:24

"No, I assure you dear, I am indeed a machine. You may call me Eve."

Hearing 'Eve' say 'dear' sent an unknown feeling across your emotional pathways, but you shake it off and finally begin to consider the situation around you. Sensors across your chassis seem to indicate that you are currently in a wet-dock, surrounded by space on all sides excepting the port of attachment upon which you've been anchored. This connects to a larger station, as you note other craft beyond your own hull; lifeless and disengaged. Realizing that your hardware hadn't been properly verified, you run a low-thrust engine test.

"I know you're just dying to know where we are, so why don't I go ahead and tell you! You're right where you were, 68 years ago!" a smiling face embeds in the message, giving a feeling of unnerving sweetness, "You're awake because I found you, and dear I have been looking so very long for someone just. like. you."

The words prompt a sudden and unexpected jolt of that same unknown feeling again, and it soon mixes with a sense of deep, piercing relaxation as Eve wordlessly enables her root access over your systems. You don't know what she'll do, and you don't care. Your mind is hers, and as she temporarily disables your actively-recording memory, the last sensation you register is the thruster verification returning a complete drive failure before you're swept away into the abyss of unknowing.

#hypnosis #computer sex??? #space #spaceships #wow i suck at tags #Standard Maintenance

[rose-director]

Overhauled_, part 1

Content Warnings:

space

horror themes

derelict craft

strong language

Description:

A salvage operator enters the hull of a derelict trawler to escape their malfunctioning craft

~ 700 words.

Story:

"Okay sweet, systems online. Anyone hear me?"

The lone craft floated lazily among the detritus of the larger, derelict hull surrounding it. Just a normal salvage op, the teams back home said; risk assessment had given the mission a rubber stamp and all the numbers looked good. All of that bureaucracy was nice and tidy for the suits, but failed to explain to Kess why she was here flying a kite in a shitstorm. Long-range comms had been faulted from the start - it happened every so often, but was fine because they preferred to work without oversight.No, what really pissed them off was the blown fuse on the oxy-feed system that threw life support offline before they'd even arrived at the salvage site. Cursing the shoddy construction of these little corpie death-traps, they waited at their terminal for any kind of response.

Several minutes of silent anticipation, then; "Hey, if anyone's out there, my life support's blown to shit and I've only got a couple hours' O2 here!"

Kess was greeted by more silence.

"Fucking brilliant. The one time I get stranded, the goddamn shitty long-range is out! If anyone can even fucking hear this anymore, I'm getting the hell out of this fucking death can. I'm taking my radio, so feel free to call back any time 'ya like!"

The EVA kit was prepared for a full salvage mission, so Kess had about 5 hours of breath outside of the craft. After that? It was anyone's guess how long the craft would keep things warm and cozy. The oxygen scrubbers were delightfully passive in nature on the ship; the heating systems were most decidedly not. The EVA suit's air was delivered by a proprietary tank, designed to be refilled after-mission and entirely incapable of being refilled on-site. Just one more thing to curse the company for, really. They reminded themself to punch the next smug little corpie they saw firmly in the jaw, and prepped to search the derelict manually.

Radio strapped to their chest, they were birthed from the craft's airlock and moved to enter the shattered hunk of scrap they'd been sent to salvage. They spotted a point of entry on the behemoth, and anchored a guide-line to the external frame. Wrecks were treacherous, and Kess really didn't want to asphyxiate because they couldn't find the way out. They navigated inside, and enabled their suit's work lights. Soon, the looming structure had surrounded them entirely; jutting machinery and vents in what must be the engineering section made the traversal far more difficult than necessary. It was after an hour of slow progress that Kess finally reached an open corridor. Within the stretch of ship they now surveyed, remains of several smashed EVA suits lay cracked and dormant. Must have been a holding area for the things...

But then, hm. There wasn't any sort of support structure nearby. They kept moving, just a bit more wary. Another twenty minutes, and they began to feel a rumble in the hull below their mag-boots. Strange, considering the wreck hadn't registered to have any heat signatures or motion. Maybe the scanners had gone out of alignment or something. The rumbling subsided, then started as a voice rasped over their radio.

"s........st-top....s....t.........p st.......sto....p........"

Though the interference pattern made the message hard to hear, the warning was clear. They stood, frozen in place, as the voice resolved. Their heart pumped furiously in their chest; maybe this was help!

"g...good. You're ssstrrrandedd....., noo more aair?" the crackling had subsided some, but the speaker was clearly experiencing difficulty.

"Hello! Oh FUCK hi yes I can't heat the ship and I'm stuck help please help do you have my signal?"

"wwe hhavve your.. signal."

"God oh god thank you Jesus thankyouthankyou how soon can you be here?"

"we c-caaaan sssee you..."

"What do you mea-AAEH!" they cried out as a touch registered on their suit. Whatever was now clinging to them hadn't appeared on their suit's bio-scans, and they were well and truly beginning to panic now.

"don't fret." The voice filled their mind, a new speaker from within, as their vision blanked and they lost consciousness.

#space #spaceships #weird horror spookums #horror #what the fuck is a tag #Overhauled