re_alignment | [Video]

[Have a new face, Haven – or most of one. Engineer hasn't bothered to take any of his gear off, so there's only so much to see: his eyes are covered by his goggles and a yellow construction helmet sits on his head. He clears his throat before addressing his potential audience, clearly a little uncertain about the Link device he's been given, but definitely intrigued by it. They don't have video communication quite this fancy back where (and when) he's from.]

I suppose the polite thing to do would be to introduce myself before I start asking questions. Name's Dell Conagher, though people tend to call me Engineer these days. I'll answer to either.

Now then, if it ain't too much trouble, I could use a little assistance and some information. I'm a reasonable man, but I'm also a rational one. I got the introductory speech from these here – uh, Acolytes, I think it was – and while it isn't the craziest thing I've ever heard, it's in the running. If I'm expected to believe I'm on another planet, I need a bit more of an explanation than these walking answering machines can provide. Heck, if I had to make a guess based on the level of technology I'm seeing here, I'd guess I'm in Australia. [Australia, of course, being a technological powerhouse in his reality. He pauses, turning to one of the Acolytes that's still hovering nearby in case the new arrival would like to hear its pre-programmed spiel again, and raps his knuckles against its ankle. Its only reaction is to cock its head to one side.] I know we ain't got anything quite this fancy back home, at any rate.

I'd be mighty thankful if someone could point me in the direction of the nearest cafeteria, while I'm making requests. I get the feeling I might be here a while and that half a sandwich I had for lunch won't keep me going forever.

Oh, and I believe I owe some fella by the name of Solus Prime a thank you for this here device? [A finger reaches out and taps the edge of the screen to indicate the Link device in his hand.] Sure is a neat little welcome package.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Now, there's no need for insults, however technically correct they may be.

[Engineer recognizes his composition - just as he recognizes that you, kitty, are definitely a robot. Robots are built by people, who think and feel, but do not think and feel themselves.

At least, not in his universe. Engineer has the grace to make an odd expression. He's the thinking sort, so even if he doesn't immediately believe it, he can at minimum consider the possibility.]

You're suggesting you're an artificial intelligence? We ain't got any of those back home, either.

I'd say you started the insults here, and you happen to be continuing them.

[He huffs and paces back and forth, gesturing with a paw to the unfamiliar starry sky outside.]

What part of 'you're on an alien planet' do you not grasp? I am not an AI. The Acolytes? Yes, those are drones, and not very bright ones at that. I, however, am a true-sparked Cybertronian.

We are alive, and do not take kindly to being told otherwise.

And if I'm wrong I'll certainly apologize, but the kind of technology you're talking about just doesn't exist. How do you know you're not just programmed to think you're real?

The part I'm stumbling over is how I got from my workbench to an alien world - the path between point A and point B just don't make sense. If you're as capable of independent thought as you say you are, try putting yourself in my shoes. You'd be a little skeptical too. Tears in the fabric of reality? Seems a lot more likely that someone got me over the back of the head with something heavy and then dragged me to this elaborate setup, though I can't figure what the point of it would be.

[Glit finally sits back on his haunches and drags both paws over his face.] I am so not drunk enough for this.

Look. I'm a medic, not a physicist! I can't explain the multidimensional quantum mechanics behind a universal tear in space. That's not my thing.

But I can tell you that we. Are. Sentient. We weren't made on earth in one of your little laboratories, stuck on some primitive AI loop that tells us to wonder if 'we're a real boy' yet. We are created here, on alternate, future versions of this world, and we have sparks - what you might call a tangible soul.

And guess what? There is a lot more proof that we have souls than humans do, and you don't see me questioning your sentience.

Souls are a whole different matter. [A whole other matter that Engineer also happens to not believe in.] I'm not looking for any proof of that; I'm talking about the mind. The reason no one questions human sentience is because you can't make one of us in a factory.

[He pauses to think for a moment, then notes:]

And, well, the fact that there isn't really anyone to question it. Only sentient species on Earth and all that.

I suppose you wouldn't appreciate it if I pointed out that all that business you're spouting about your history and alternate realities could just as easily be nothing but programming?

And? You can't make a toad or slug in one of your factories either, but are you going to argue that those are more sentient than a Cybertronian next? Just because we've managed something you're not technologically advanced enough for yet?

[Glit sits back, rolling his optics. He is just so done.]

No. I wouldn't. So if you're so bound and determined to try and disprove every slagging thing you hear, how about you go take a stroll outside and see for yourself?

You're missing the point. Toads and slugs don't display sentience in the first place; nobody's gonna mistake them for Earth's dominant lifeform.

Was just on my way to do that, in fact - some fella's on about two moons orbiting this place, which I'm keen to see for myself. Might be a while before I get there, though. Seems like this place was built for giants.

[And, until he has something more pressing to consider, he may as well keep the conversation going.]

If you're your own man - or robot, Cybertronian, what have you - you must have a name. What should I be calling you?

I think you're missing the point.

[He huffs again, claws kneading at the ground, too vexed to argue further without sputtering with rage. Enjoy your not-built-for-humans giant building!]

Good. You do that.

And I do, of course. My name is Glit.

[Dell ignores the snark. He is, in fact, generally difficult to ruffle - outwardly. He will remember you, prickly kitty cat.]

Glit, huh? All right.

[Considering he calls his colleagues by their functions instead of by their names... well, 'Glit' isn't the oddest name out there, really.]

If you weren't put together on an assembly line, then, who did make you?

[Honestly it would be hard for Glit to forget Dell at this point.]

Hn. Well, it's been a few millionyears, but I imagine it was Vector Sigma.

A million years? Well, I'll be. You don't look it.

[Dell seems somewhat impressed - not entirely impressed, because he's not convinced a million years is an accurate count. That's a damnably long time for something to keep running.]

Vector Sigma being...?