goddamngrenades | OPEN POST

Even though this is what he'd signed up for when he'd ~~been forcibly recruited~~ joined the Project, he's still not entirely sure he likes the idea of having an AI plugged into his brain. He's seen AIs before of course; his home colony had been mostly run by a dumb AI, although not one half as snarky as FILSS. The smart AIs he'd rarely come into contact with, but they'd seemed very different. Almost human. And that unsettles him.

Still, what choice did he have? He's here in this project. He can't back out now.

He attends the implantation as ordered. Wishes they'd knock him out entirely before they do the implantation, but they say that they need to check his reactions to the upgraded neural lattice first.

Then they knock him out. There's blackness for a long time, and then a voice in his head.

"Wow it's roomy in here." A beat. "Not calling you dumb just- storage is cramped, you know? One sec-"

There's a sense of unfurling, a weight like a warm blanket, like a wash of sunshine tingling along the neural lattice, poking at the edges of this little box he's supposed to live in. This box in a brain in a soldier. Neat. "Agent Washington- That's a mouthful. I'm gonna call you Wash, ok? Quicker and less formal. I'm York. Nice to meet you."

Wash would yelp but he's pretty sure that he's still mostly unconscious. Nothing seems to connect right for him to move. He's sure his startlement shines through though. he can feel the AI rummaging through his mind, spreading out inside him. It's a warm feeling though. Not even close to what he'd expected which was cold code and clinical dispassion.

"Oh. Okay. I- nice to meet you York?"

"See, nothing to worry about! Just you and me and the Director watching like a creeper, oh sweet I can tap into FLISS' security network to check the cameras. Looks like everything's going fine on the outside. A plus, smoothest implantation yet." Maybe, maybe not, but he's confident. "You and me are gonna work great together."

He wants to look. He gets a flash of the Director standing in the room over the bed, watching him sleep. York is right. That is really fucking creepy. Plenty of stuff is making him uncomfortable these days. "Don't! You'll get me in trouble!" he protests. The AIs can't just go jumping into the systems.

"What, it's not like the can detect me or anything. FLISS doesn't mind. I'm fulfilling my objective!" Which at the moment is integrate seamlessly and get to know his...uh. Host? Host. "Chill out, we're fine."

He does detach from that network, though. Induced anxiety isn't good for human brains.

"Host makes it sound like some fucked up sci-fi movie where the alien parasite takes over the human body and-" He is babbling isn't he? It's hard not to babble inside his own head when York can hear everything he thinks. "You're not going to do that, right?"

"Relax, the neural lattice neatly defines the boundaries of my influence on your nervous system. Also, dude, dick move. This is your body, I'm just a houseguest. Subletting a portion of your subconscious to run some ridiculously complex calculations to help you in the field." No one's gonna be calling HIM rookie for much longer, no sir. "We are going to kick so much ass."

Well, that makes him feel a little better. He'd say that he trusts the project not to put them in that kind of danger but... experimental technology. They remember what happened to some of the others. And even then... there's that niggle of doubt at the back of his mind that suggests that the Director doesn't actually see them as people so much as lab rats.

"Yeah yeah, make us better, faster, all that fun stuff. Running the armour mods." Not that he's got anything that useful. EMP isn't half as cool as camouflage or a bubble shield or speed mods. Might be helpful for the force mods but they've all got those.

"In the words of Kanye." Why does he know that? It's a blip between one thought and the next, racing toward the aforementioned armormods. Getting cozy in the suit, the layer of compression gel expanding here and there as York makes a few adjustments to better align Wash's spine for optimal comfort and support. "Helping with tactics, watching your six, all that jazz. You're gonna wake up in a sec."

Sine the procedure was successful, after all.

"Who?" Some philosopher? He wasn't sure how well up AIs were on actual cultural stuff. Not that he was much better. The military didn't have many options when it came to keeping up with culture. "I am?"

And then it comes like a bang, someone calling his name, listing his eyelids and fuck, that light is bright. He groans, trying to roll over to hide his face.

"West? Kayne West, old earth musician? Nevermind. Adjusting visor to compensate for pupil dilation." He could try just adjusting the pupils but that's outside the neural lace. He's got his comfy little spot in Wash's head, needs to keep there.

"Rise and Shine, Wash." Audible, now, coming from a little gold hologram of an armored man hovering at his shoulder.

Suddenly the light is tolerable, the visor compensating for it. He blinks a few times and slowly starts to sit up. He feels like it should hurt more, since he's just essentially had brain surgery, but he feels fine. A little bit of a headache but nothing too bad.

The voice sounds different enough outside his head that it takes him a moment to place it. He stares at the hologram, at York. Dressed in armour. He's not sure why an AI feels like they need armour but it's familiar at least.

"York?"

"That's me." Emoting is difficult without a face or a concept of a face of his own so- fingerguns. "Why don't we get some aspirin and fruit in you? Mess hall will be opening in T minus five."

The nursing staff and Director don't seem to have questions for York, which is better for him. Something about the Director sets the AI on edge but. Grin and bear it.

The gesture makes Wash snort and shake his head. It's ridiculous, but also very human. He can appreciate that. "Mmmm, fruit sounds good. Aspirin sounds better." He's glad that his appetite doesn't seem to have been killed. Some of the earlier stuff they did to him, the upgraded implants, some enhancements to make him suitable for using the armour, had left him dog sick.

"Aspirin's on the side table, fruit's in the mess. If we hurry we'll get there before Maine eats all the good apples." Paging back through annoyed memories and cross referencing them with security footage is okay, right? Right. Cuz he's totally doing that. "Also they'll be happy to see that we're getting along."

"'kay," he says. There is a gross taste in his mouth. But that's easily solved. He grabs the aspirin and downs them along with the glass of water. He's pretty sure that the glass along the side is actually a viewing window and since it's super obvious, he doesn't know why they bother pretending otherwise.

He pushes himself to his feet then, stretching out the stiffness from his limbs.

"Maine always goes for the good stuff. I swear he has a sixth sense for it."

"He's got a notification set up for when we get shipments of fresh fruit and a hookup on the mess staff." Easy as anything to pick through the system and find this shit, seriously. FLISS get on his level.

"Oh- hey that feels." Weird. York flickers a bit, adjusting the compression gen again to settle more comfortably across Wash's shoulders. "There you go."

"...can you set one up for me?" he asks. He doesn't mind sharing the apples with Maine, but fresh fruit is a coveted supply and there's never enough for his tastes.

He shifts a little, but feels the gel layer of his suit settle more comfortably around him. He hadn't even realised it hadn't been sitting right. "Thanks! Do you offer room service too? Because I tell you, the pillows are not great."

"Already done." Who's good at their job? York's good at his job. "...You could just, I dunno, flirt with the guy that does your linens? Or put in a requisitions request."

Which York does, by the way. With a winky face because that's how he, and by proxy Wash, now rolls.

He's doing all these things and Wash hasn't even got out of the medbay yet! He's not sure what to make of it still, but at least it's good stuff. No sign of the impending AI takeover and the enslavement of humanity. Not yet anyway.

"I'm not flirting with anyone just to get a new pillow."

"Smile at him then. Flex a little next time you see him? That's how Maine gets the fruit." The alleged hookup. Something something eyecandy something. "Humans are strange, man."

"You might have noticed that I am definitely not Maine. There is nothing I could flex that would be half as impressive." Because Maine is a giant and could bench press Wash in full armour without breaking a sweat. "I don't think you have room to talk about being strange."

"Yeah but you got a bubble butt." That is, apparently, a thing. York checked the curvature against several acceptable examples of the same and nods to himself. "Maine's got more of a pancake thing going, if the scuttlebutt's honest."

"Is this what's gonna happen now?" he asks, giving the hologram a sceptical look. "The calculations you'll be running aren't going to be about how good the butts of my teammates look! We have to be ready for combat and... and stuff."

AI York

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