Welcome to Edensphere, Philosopher

[fugue_angel]

Characters: Philosopher/C-3P0 (worrybot) and Fugue (fugue_angel)
Date/Time: April 16th, morning
Location:Hall of Beginnings
Rating: PG for naked Goldenrod (Hur)
Summary: Philosopher is born into Edensphere and someone is there to greet him.

Comments

[worrybot]

He was uncomfortable as he came to consciousness, immediately concerned by the inability to move. If his mouth hadn't been covered with goop he might have muttered, "Oh dear," but it was, and the inability to talk bothered him rather more.

There was also an odd blankness -- he felt as if all of his systems hadn't quite come online. But first things first. He flailed around with his arms and managed to break through the cocoon. Light flooded in and his photoreceptors took a moment to adjust to the abrupt change. He continued to fuss, finally breaking through enough of the cocoon to slide out -- and slide he did, on the floor. His balance was poor at the best of times. He just didn't do slippery.

"Oh my!" he tried to say, but something still wasn't right. Clumsily he lifted a hand to wipe the goo out of his mouth.

[fugue_angel]

Well this was different.

Fugue blinked at the large, golden, metal person that was sliding around the floor. 'Oh my' was right. What WAS this thing? Why couldn't he ever get the hot chicks normal newborns?

"A-are you alright?" After a moment of gawking he awkwardly handed the thing a towel. "Not ...dented in any way? I'm sure you have a lot of questions."

As did he.

[worrybot]

"I don't appear to be dented. Thank the Maker for small favors," the droid said, taking the towel and beginning to wipe the gunk from his coverings, taking care with the sensitive joints. His face could not scowl, but his movements were choppy and annoyed.

"As it is, I have no shortage of questions," he continued. "My memory cells seem to have been wiped." Although he did not visibly hesitate, internally he felt a small pang of loss; however, it wasn't as if this fate was unusual among droids. Was it? Why should he feel so offended, then? Maybe it was simply the conditions in which he had found himself upon waking. That would be more than enough to frustrate any droid, in his opinion.

He continued, "So I have no idea as to my assignment or master here. Would that be you, sir?"

The man had been here when he'd woke. It wasn't the most unreasonable assumption.

[fugue_angel]

Maker? Fugue nodded along, trying and mostly failing to hide his confusion at this strangely fussy newborn robot. Since when did they start to get robots here? Not that he was species-ist. He welcomed all manners of beings into Edensphere. Just most of the time they were fleshy (but more often than not, male. Oh how he longed for just one dazed and very grateful blond bombshell

[worrybot]

The droid accepted Fugue's refusal of ownership quite readily. Sometimes one simply was between masters and assignments. He'd find one soon enough. He managed to get to his feet without slipping to the floor again, although it was a near thing. Despite his care, he still felt like his servos weren't quite clean. He'd need to fix that somehow.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. I do appreciate your help." The next words were muttered to himself. "Pick one's own name, how peculiar."

The droid looked at the clothes and then waved a hand in dismissal. "Oh! No, thank you, I don't need those. I would only overheat sooner."

[fugue_angel]

Oh good if the shiny robot thing didn't need clothes that meant more savings for the department. Someone was quite the miser.

"Very well then." He dropped the clothes on a nearby table in a messy heap and cleared his throat. "Did you happen to dream of anything just before you awoke in the cocoon? Something important? You should hold onto the imagines you saw, they are our only links to the life before this one. Many people pick their names based on those images."

That is if robots dreamed at all. He wasn't really that interested but it would make his process a bit harder if he didn't.

[worrybot]

"I'd thought it was a by-product of the erasure process," he said, a bit surprised. He'd committed the images to memory automatically -- it wasn't like a droid forgot, unless they were wiped -- but now he reviewed the files, images flickering across his brain. He wasn't sure that any of the dialogue was suitable for a name -- there were only a few nouns, after all, and he certainly wasn't calling himself just a protocol droid. He should have a designation. He wished he could remember the proper one.

"Is Philosopher acceptable?" he asked.

[fugue_angel]

By product of the what now? "The dreams are very mysterious." There. That was a good answer, right? It sounded nice and deep.

"Yes. It is good to meet you Philosopher," Fugue said solemnly. Apparently being almost called a master was making him take his job a bit more seriously than usual.

"Now let us continue. This is your journal. It is used as a method of communication. Anything you write in that can be seen by all others with journals. It is very important that you do not lose it."

He then handed over a folded piece of paper and a bag of coins. "These are also yours. The paper is a map of your new home and the coins are to help you settle in. You have enough there for three weeks if you spend wisely. ...That is, if you need to spend any at all." He had no idea what robots would eat or need really. Maybe electricity? "After that, most people are compelled by finances to find a job. Your housing corresponds to where you work; all newborns start off in temporary housing. Do you understand so far?"

[worrybot]

"Yes, Master Fugue, thank you." True master or not, it didn't feel right to address the man without a title.

Philosopher took the journal, a little nonplussed by it -- real paper? The idea felt archaic to him. But he would adapt to new methods of communication. He also took the bag and the map with all evidence of care. He wasn't quite sure what to do with it either, but it never hurt to have some funds. Perhaps he could find someone who could help him with a thorough cleaning. He shifted uncomfortably with the slime, real or imagined, under his plates.

"I shall endeavor to find somewhere other than temporary," he said in a low tone, probably half to himself again. He liked to talk, and an audience wasn't strictly necessary all the time. But then he nodded decisively.

"You have been more than generous," he said to the greeter.

oh god now his ego will swell

[fugue_angel]

Master Fugue. It had such a nice ring to it. This time the man didn't bother to correct Philosopher. He just smiled.

"There's a job listing over there at the right side of the room," he said pointing. "This is the Hall of Beginnings. There is a man outside that can show you to Temporary Housing."

He preened under the attention. "It is my job to make sure every newborn adjusts to their new home. It helps to maintain a balanced, happy community. This is a brand new start, Philosopher. ...Do you have any other questions?"

lol sorry, he's programmed for politeness |DDD

[worrybot]

"A new start. All right. I shall do my best to fit in, then." He nodded, and pondered for a moment. Questions. Yes, if he could think of any, he should certainly ask. He wasn't quite looking forward to leaving and being on his own. The idea was worrisome. It was nice in here, but who knew what it would be like out there? What if it really was awful? What if they didn't like droids? Oh dear, oh dear...

"Is it necessary to leave so soon? Perhaps you need help with, ah..." He gestured aimlessly at nothing in particular. "Some issues of greeting?"

oh dear now he's gonna abuse poor Philosopher for the free labor

[fugue_angel]

"Issues of greeting?" Fugue blinked. What an odd proposition to make. Newborns never offered to help him.

"I don't think..." Hm well. "Your unused clothing does need to be refolded and taken into the backroom. We'll give it to the next newborn. Normally I call housekeeping or Locke or Orca to clean up the...cocoon mess." Because there was no way he would clean that. "I suppose I could use some help."

Particularly if Philosopher continued to call him Master Fugue.

lol I am so sorry XDD

[worrybot]

"Of course, sir," Philosopher said, immediately moving to take the clothes and do as asked. He always felt better with something to do. Sure, he still felt a bit stiff, but he could correct that later.

The only problem Fugue might have with the droid was that he rarely stopped talking. He always had an opinion to share or a question to ask. Even diplomats had been known to tell him to shut up, not that Philosopher remembered that.

"How often do these births occur? Are you kept quite busy?" And so the questions started.

its because 3P0 is made to suffer

[fugue_angel]

If Bastet were around to see Fugue abusing a newborn this way she'd have glares and possibly words for him. But lucky for Fugue he was unsupervised alone, and the chatter from the gold droid wasn't enough to bother him.

For now.

"They tend to come in cycles. There are months where the Tree is barren and months that are active. During those times more often than not there are two or more born at the same time. We call those born together 'twins', even if they share no genetic similarity or background." Fugue frowned slightly. "Although, you've reminded me that I've noticed fewer cocoons this month than most. Strange."

Did it mean something? Fugue frowned. Was it the responsibility of the Exile? No. Impossible. He wasn't allowed in this safe space. But what did it mean?

he would blame Skywalker, except he hasn't met him yet.

[worrybot]

"Twins, how curious." Philosopher wanted, momentarily, to go on a ramble about the different kinds of relationships he'd encountered in alien civilizations, because he was certain there were weirder ones than adopted family, but those files seemed corrupted as well, so he gave up the thought, although not without regret. He could have been helpful and informative!

"So you're saying that the Tree itself produces these... cocoons?" He gestured. The idea was still strange. A being like him should be made or repaired, not born. Organic creation was always so messy. He looked around for a mop.

probably a good thing for fugues sanity

[fugue_angel]

"That is the general consensus. Of course no one knows for sure. Edensphere is a very mysterious place."

Fugue crossed his arms and looked rather pleased with himself. "Whenever a newborn is hatched a new cocoon grows almost overnight. However it may be months before a newborn is born. These cocoons are the life blood of our community. They must be protected at all costs. Similarly the Hall of Beginnings is meant to be a place of safety. It is protected 24 hours a day and no one may enter save for the Greeters and Guards."

He frowned."Oh and Housekeeping." He often forgot about them.