Working progress (D0, Pregame, MA)

[Feature]

Snip

"Oh, we did have a specific function. We were responsible for cleaning, guarding and surveying border sector 24635... 79235...46.....6, we think?" Some more whirring. "Ah. Might have been 467. 7...76% on that." The smile seems to waver a bit, but is soon back. "It's funny, we had that all much clearer! Half-half it gets memory cleaning in time?" Some more whirring. "Or just an access issue" They 'shrug' - which is to say, the upper arms wiggle a bit, as there's not much in the way of shoulders there.

"Apple juice! Apple juice is good! Almost as good as tar-beeswax mix juice, although it's harder to get... Does Ms Drooten also like it? Maybe we can get some with tips!"

The idea of predicting crimes seems to get the monodrone curious, as becomes evident in the eye opening wide again. "Um. Predicting crimes... we didn't know Marlow and Drooten were with the hardheads" The eye tilts slightly. "But we wonder, if we predict a crime... then what? Does one try and avoid it? And if that happens... weren't we wrong in the first place?"

[Naila Drooten]

Snip

"I see, so you were an overseer and then you...stopped? Well, there's nothing wrong with a little career flexibility. I do my own memory cleaning, but I would hate to have it done to me."

Thankfully, apple juice is a much happier topic.

"Oh, you enjoy it as well? Wonderful, I find it clears the mind and powers the body. I must confess I have never tried a tar-beeswax mix. In fact, I am almost certain it could prove fatal to someone with my biology. But I would be will to investigate further, for science's sake."

Then she frowns at the next part, crossing her arms and managing to somehow look down at someone flying at head height.
"The hardheads? Absolutely not, my own head's structural integrity is healthy, but with enough flex to cushion all sorts of blows. My own pursuit of criminals is simply a matter of truth, something they would never understand. I am of course a member of the Sign of One, or the Sign of One is a creation of my unconscious mind, or it's the creation of someone else's unconscious mind. We've narrowed it down to those three."

She gives them a long look before pushing her glasses firmly up and clearing her throat.

"But you do raise an interesting point on the nature of predetermination. I would go even further, can you convict someone for a crime that was going to happen? Is future intent enough? And as you say, if you convict them of a future crime, then they will never commit it, so there is no longer a future crime?"
Naila snaps her notebook closed.

"Yes, an excellent conundrum. One with no clear solution, those are my favourite. That and Sudoku. You are clearly quite good at making predictions. Or you are lucky, both are valuable traits."
She gestures to the street towards her office.

"Walk or, float with me and we can discuss working together further?"

[Feature]

Snip

The whole thing about 'stopping' the Modron's previous career is left behind for now without another word, although some repetitive clicks and twitchs now and then while they were talking suggested there might be something more than 'just stopping' there.

"Hmmm... 88% you are correct. That's sad! Half-half if we use tar of plant origin?" A happy smile, almost inviting. "We could try that!"

Naila's whole assessment of the 'minority report conundrum' Feature followed with nods, head tilts, grins and clicks. It was clearly something that interested the copper-and-brass orb too.

"It'll be our pleasure, ms Drooten! Where to, then?" They look ahead, then up. "Were you in the middle of an errand yourself? We wouldn't want to stop ya!"

[Naila Drooten]

Snip

"Plant tar? Like....syrup? That could work for a rather sweet drink." She positively salivates at the prospect before clearing her throat. "Ahum, it's no problem at all. I was reading up on the cultural history of Ibbanese fisherman and idly wondered why my unconscious would have created them. Perhaps I have a deeply repressed fondness for hairy fish?"

Leading the way through the bustling crowd she gestures at the old Tavern on the corner. "That's the Drunken Druid, my office is just above."
The interior of the tavern is dark and smoking with a few old timers talking in corner booths while some youngsters were at the bar grabbling a drink inbetween work.

"My father setup the agency here. He always said a good tavern was simply a free source of information, and I find the alcohol has its uses on perspective clients. Can I get you anything to drink?"

[Feature]

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"Syrup is good too! Just a bit too sweet... but it's good with some things! But we meant actual wood tar! We don't think it's sweet, exactly... half-half it could be to human tastes?" The monodrone's arms go wiggle-wiggle again.

"You... created Ibbanese fishermen? Now that's something! Would you tell us more about them as we go?"

The suggestion quickly goes to the back of their mind as they breathe in the smoke and stale-ale air, seemingly even happier than before. "Ah... that is more like plant tar, we think!" The eye scans the bar, the clientele, look for a sign showing drinks and prices. "We... might get something if you have a suggestion! What's your favourite?"

They seem rather curious about the story of Naila's father while at that. "So Ms Drop'em was here in the Cage since your progenitor's time? That must be a long time!"

Their rather blank face suggests what they mean by 'a long time' could be... anything, really. Maybe between 10 and 100 years, maybe some less or more.

"You must know all sorts of things about Sigil, then! And your father and you have been investigating stories? That's delightful!" They seem even livelier than before, if that's possible. "You must have wonderful stories to tell! Would Ms Drug'em mind sharing one?"

[Naila Drooten]

Snip

"I am partial to an appletini sans the tini myself, but I try not to drink on the job. It can dull the senses."
She thinks for a half moment before calling out to the older looking Halfling with a well trimmed grey beard.
"Pint of wood tar for my friend."
The halfling looks at Feature for a moment then makes a grunt that sounds like agreement before stomping off to fill a sturdy looking mug with some black tar.

"...I am reasonably certain you can safely consume that, but please let me know if you have any wood allergies." She pauses to eye the almost entirely wooden building. "Yes, that would prove difficult, although I simply have no idea if a monodrone can even experience anaphylactic shock, or if you can I would assume that would be when something disorderly happens."

Naila leans against a post as she waits for Feature's drink to be prepped, her eyes constantly scanning the room, the straight beyond and then back to the Monodrone.

"Where were we, the Ibbanese fisherman! Yes. My unconscious mind may or may not have imagined them, it's unclear. But either way they are very hairy humanoids who live on the north of their continent and fish in the cold climes. They mainly stick to the coasts and islands as most of the continent is dominated by some very nasty nomads. I've never met one personally, but if I do I'll now know the ceremonial high-five and grunt that is expected, although I struggle with the pitch myself."

She spots a minuscule spec of dust on one glove and takes a moment to carefully flick it off with a look of relief.
"And it's Drooten, if you please. Drop'em is the lead shot tower and Drug'em...well that was only the one case and I defy anyone else to find a more peaceful solution than enough tranquilizer to stun a Dread Centipede.

But yes, I was either born in Sigil or brought here when I was very young. My father saved me from an abyssal cult, which incidentally is the story he always tells when he's annoyed with me. You save someone's life a high single digit low double digit amount of times depending on definition and suddenly you think they owe you!"

Still, she does smile ever so slightly at the memory before there's a hint of melancholy.

"To keep a long tale short. My father, Mike Marlow was just at the start of his career as a private detective and he'd been hired to tail a cleric who was trying to extort money from a rather well to do family in the Lady's Ward. Well, he stalked the guy for a week before finding out he always spent a lot of time in his greenhouse. One night he hears chanting and baby crying and he and sneaks closer. There's Mr Cleric and his cult all chanting about the glory of the Abyss (he tells me it was very cliche) and myself, as a babe about to be sacrificed. Well, dad goes in swinging with his sap, clobbers the head cleric before he even knows he's there and snatches me away."

Another pause to inspect her gloves before continuing.

"Anyway, the sensible thing would have been to send me to the orphanage at the Gatehouse. Most berks would have, But dad decided I could use a dad and he took me in. He...had lost some people too. Anyway, that was the start of my career as a detective. I firmly believe that my cries of alarm broke the case wide open as it were."

The Hafling slides a filled mug down the bar to Feature before grunting and going back to polishing an already spotless glass.

"What about you, might I inquire how you ended up in the Cage?"

[Feature]

Snip

The well-rounded smile turns into a grin after a few 'ticks'. "Hah! You... like to drink apples, then? ... we'd like to see how that happens at some point!", they ask with slightly pursed lips.

The bartender actually preparing a good tar special just for them makes the grin grow even wider, and Feature's soon looking around for some honey - since beeswax was not that easy to find in taverns from their experience. "Ne'er had any allergies, no!" Disorderly things happening, though... but that'd come up soon enough.

They hear the story on the Ibbanese fisherman with great attention and pleasure as they wait for their drink, nodding and widening their eye here and there. "They sound fascinating, these Ibbanese folks! And... that all you learned from a book, then? Where is that continent, then? It sounds like a fun place to visit! Maybe we should at some point!" - who they meant by 'we' in that case not entirely clear, as Naila may notice. Who knew seeing yourself as a plural and speaking a language without clusivity distinctions could lead to such conundrums?

The Monodrone then follows the clarification on Naila's surname closely, even gesturing to one side and the other, even mimicking a tower with a falling ball of lead (much larger than usual shot balls - they probably didn't understand exactly what the tower was for) and what looked like them injecting something on their own round belly (is it a belly if there's no waist?). "One, one...Droot'en! We're sorry, ms Droot'en, and thanks! We won't forget now!"

The whole mimicking and commenting ceases, and even the silly smile calms down a bit as they settle down to hear Naila's story - and that they do attentively and respectfully. Their smile does widen when the elven-like lady's voice becomes more somber, which ought to be slightly disconcerting. But they still keep quiet and even seems sympathetic, despite the odd smile. Maybe it was meant to cheer her up or something?

The end of the story and the mug of tar coming in at the same time makes the smile become a grin again, then a muffled laughter. "That's a Ribcage of a story!", they say - probably more acquainted with the gate-town than with the Hells it led to. "One might even say Ms Droot'en was half-born a detective - or, well, the center of a detective story! Your father sounds like a fine, canny man!"

A long gulp of tar follows - which actually doesn't seem to drain so much of the mug, perhaps not surprisingly - couldn't be easy to chug down something that viscous. The Monodrone seems rather happy as they put the mug back down, down.

"We... well, back then we were an overseer at sector 2463579235463, as we said." Naila may notice they used the word she said for their role and the slight change in the sector number.

"At some point, a long time after the last time such a thing had happened, we saw a visitor on the horizon, and went to do the same thing protocol always dicatated - report it to our supervisor. Only this time there wasn't a single supervisor there."

Their smile seems to grow wider, although the look in their eye doesn't quite agree with it.

"There were three. And even more strangely... two of them seemed more powerful than the other one! In fact...they seemed more powerful than any duodrones we'd seen before, we're 84% certain!" They say in a somewhat rote fashion, their grin growing wider.

The 'normal' duodrone then gave us an order that was similar to all other times - 'watch the visitor, relay the information if they move, warn us if they enter your sector'. Which we were ready and willing to do, as always!

But then one of the two powerful supervisors looked pensively towards the horizon and determined - 'go to the visitor, talk to them and make peace.' Which we were ready and willing to do as well!

And then the other beefy monodrone stared towards the horizon and determined - 'rush to them, drive them off OR exterminate!'. Which we were... well, we wanted to follow orders!

But there were three sets of deterministically, logically determined orders! How could we?"

Feature's grin grew wider and wider, and their eye was open so wide it looked as if it should pop out, if such a thing was even possible for such an anatomy.

"It... it was something entirely new. 'Uncertainty'! We had to 'decide'! Consider the 'chance' we were choosing the right thing! It was a completely new idea... it was an IDEA! Had we had ideas before? 75% we hadn't! Which of course also meant we probably wouldn't be good at it. Roughly 33% chance of doing the right chance there, I wager!"

A silly laugh, and their eye seems to relax slightly. "We decided to go out and talk. Of course we didn't know what to talk about. But the Visitor, they were interesting! And nice! In the end they made us think about our orders, about what answers and orders are, and the like. It was all too complicated at the time, too much, even. But there wasn't much time for that, in the end. We turned back with the visitor, there was another monodrone in our sector, and as soon as I tried to step back into my sector it started." The monodrone's eye is suddenly tense again, even more than before. They said we were defective. A failure. An error.

They wanted to take us for repairs, but we knew we weren't defective! When we tried to say so, a cluster of monodrones bolted towards us, aggressive, all repeating the same thing: 'Failure!' 'Error'! 'Bug!!'"

The grin wider than ever, something oily seems to drop from the big eye.

"The visitor... they helped us. Ran with us, guided us towards a gate, then laughed when we got to Sigil even as they kept asking us more and more questions - saying now and again we were 'fascinating'" They stopped for a while, head tilted, grinning again. "Oh... just as Ms Droot'en said when we met outside, in fact!"

Some low whirring and click clacks. "hm.... Zero. Half-half?", they muttered to themselves.

"They kept with us a few more days", they then continued. "To 'make sure we were functional', they said. Gave us a number of books, and... made us keen on asking questions ourselves, we suppose! Then they just left, and we've been trying to find our way ever since!"

"We don't know that we've found a way... but we met some folks here and there! One of them, a half-orc, even reassured us we weren't a 'bug' - we were a 'Feature'!" The monodrone gives a hippity hop at that. "That's not much sense, but it's something, right? And we found things to do, soup to feed, sods to help. It gets tedious at times, but it's something, and sometimes it's fun!"

The clean smile they end the story with seems somehow purer than any others on the round face before - and maybe more worrying exactly for that reason.

"But do tell, Ms Droot'en! You said we could discuss work? Were you on a case? Do you need a case cracked, or retrieved?", they say, the troubling grin coming back, maybe a bit too fast.

[Naila Drooten]

Snip

Naila absorbs Feature's story in respectful silence, although one of her ears twitches a little at the mention of the half-orc.

"You were faced with an impossible, say might say illogical task. Something you clearly weren't built for. But when given what sounds like your first genuine choice you chose to learn and communicate rather than continuing as you always had or resorting to violence. You did better than most Feature. Although clearly." She eyes the oily tear. "It was unpleasant....I don't suppose you'd mind me cleaning that?" She gestures to the oil with a handkerchief.

"But you're here now and reasonably well and now you have your whole life ahead of you." She thinks for a moment. "Actually maybe don't think about that. But I don't suppose you can describe the half-orc? Did he happen to have a coat like this?" She gestures to her own before quickly resuming. "I'm usually working on multiple cases at once, most of them adultery which aren't much fun. I'm not sure you would enjoy them either. But you've found me in-between any really big cases. The brain tickling grey-cell jumping ones that make the whole process worth doing."

[Feature]

Snip

The somewhat unhinged grin quiets back down to a friendly smile, maybe even grateful, as suggested by some almost soothing 'beeps' that almost resemble a lullaby played in an ever so slightly out of tune children's toy. A 'clink clink' comes out as the oily leak is cleaned - sniffing? Hard to say...

"You know, Ms Droot'en, a whole life ahead is not a bad prospect! Not now at least! It does feel better than it did some time ago - making days fun is better than trying to make sense of things, after all!

Naila will notice the grin comes back rather fast.

"The Half-Orc... he was - eh, we think he was a he! But olive greenish, we think! Wasn't in our best shape back then. Well, figuratively, see. But a coat... we think he did have a coat! Not sure it was exactly the same... are you looking for a half-orc, then? We'd be happy to help!"

They seem actually quite excited with the prospect of a 'case', or anything to look into really. Even the adultery cases seem to draw some interest in the single eye.

[Naila Drooten]

Snip

"I am actually, he's been missing for the past 2 years. Although it sounds like he met you long before that. He always had a fondness for helping the lost and alone."

The dirty handkerchief is promptly discard, probably forever.

"It's a personal matter but I would welcome the help, if only for a fresh eye on the case."
She takes a breath for a moment considering and then nods.

"Come by the office tomorrow or the day after, whenever you are free. We can begin fresh there perhaps? I'll run you through the rudiments of investigation and we'll see what you can uncover? Two minds are usually better than one."