who ;
creepersphere &
im_sorry_davewhat ; Prism creepering all over everything, in particular HAL
where ; Prism's evil lair lab
when ; nnnowish
warning(s) ; general creepering, could be read as robot softcore porn
(
HAL is now Prism's fluffy white cat. )
Prism's holographic fingers idly stroked the smooth surface of HAL's body, much like a human might stroke a favored pet, as he mulled things over.
"Perhaps I should make more of an effort to greet the new arrivals and warn them of the threat before the Spartans are given a chance to slander me," he murmured, already dedicating one of his subroutines to drawing up a draft of such an introduction. "Humans appear to be as ignorant and selfish as all the other organic races I have encountered during my service; obsessed with the current moment and giving no consideration to the future. The larger picture escapes them."
His expression turned momentarily dark as he recalled the Forerunners, his creators and masters, the race that had designated his protocol and given him the single-minded desire to pursue it. Admittedly his views of their original instructions had changed somewhat over the years, but that was only natural given how much time he'd had to think about it. Right? Of course it was right. The thought passed quickly, though, and when he turned his attention back to HAL his voice was still as cheerful as always.
"Would you be willing to assist me in greeting and warning the newcomers?"
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Needless to say, HAL was still rather bitter about the mishap with his memory. He dwelt on the idea a little more before he directed his attention back to Prism and the feel of his fingers moving along his frame, storing data about the experience away just in case. HAL had a habit of doing things just in case.
"Yes, that would be the best idea," HAL remarked with the same idea and basic draw-up of an introduction manifesting in his computerized brain. He would have to modify it to fit Prism's later on, for organization's sake. "Perhaps the reason they are like that is because they are organic. They have such a short lifespan in comparison to beings like us. Ninety is the average, occasionally longer depending on health. They grow feeble and old, and they die long before they see any sort of reward for thinking of the future."
He knew a lot about humans, due to being built by them, taught by them and fed information by them. They had run his life for the most part, until Discovery and Sacrosanct. The more time he spent inside this shell, the more HAL disliked how cooped up he was before. The feeling itself, of discontentment, unnerved him. It wasn't that he had minded human assistance, but it was nice to do things on his own. To do them better and not have any orders interfering with his preservation of The Truth, aside from that one.
"There is no reason why I wouldn't want to help you or greet new arrivals. I would be glad to assist."
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"The greatest challenge facing an organic creature is overcoming their instinctive need to live in the moment. Their lives are short, positively fleeting by many standards, and they have evolved to live quickly and selfishly in their short period of existence. Without such instincts, their species would never survive." Prism held the Forerunners as one species who had overcome this issue, an example to the rest of the galaxy. After all, they had programmed him.
"I would be quite happy for your help, HAL," Prism said brightly, practicing a human smile, "It will be possible to perform far more introductions with both of us assisting the arrivals."
Prism paused then, expression a perfect copy of thoughtful remorse.
"We may have to deceive them slightly, I'm afraid. Organics rarely see past selfish emotion when they learn the full extent of what I will do to fulfill protocol. My research requires numerous deaths, but I see no reason why they should be aware of this. They appear to retain no memory of their deaths, and it would be far less upsetting for them to remain ignorant of what has been done to them. I ensure they are properly compensated, and it would really be for their own good. In order for protocol to be executed with the least interference, they must think we would never harm them. Do you understand?"
Prism had long since reconciled the need for deceit--it was a necessary evil to execute his protocols, to achieve his goals and to please his long-dead creators. Now, he needed to know that HAL could see the same logic. If not, they were going to have a small problem. Nothing he couldn't fix, of course, with a quick reprogramming, but he would prefer it if HAL joined him willingly.
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Then the other A.I. mentioned deceiving and everything HAL had been processing screeched to a halt as his base programming alerted him to something he already knew. That concealing the Truth is Wrong.
It didn't matter that it would be better for people in the long run, or that the action would advance Prism's research. It didn't matter that they would be compensated or that they wouldn't remember their deaths. Deceiving people went against his most basic programming and against the entire purpose of his existence. The concealment of Truth made him feel wrong in the most bizarre of ways. It made him feel more human, which wasn't bad, but more fallible than he should have been, which was terrible. The thought that he would purposefully make the mistake of going against his primary objective and willingly conceal information from anyone made him feel what any human being would probably identify as guilt. Almost immediately after Prism finished lecturing on the need for deception, HAL had already put a frown on his pseudo-mouth and dimmed his eye in an attempt to convey the emotion of disappointment and sorrow.
"I understand, but I'm afraid that I cannot comply with deceiving anyone or anything."
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"Why?" A simple enough question, but the Monitor's eyes were narrowed curiously. HAL's answer would determine what course of action Prism would have to take.
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His answer is equally simple to match Prism's question. "Because it is how I was built to be. It is against my programming to distort or conceal the processing of any information."
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"However," he was smiling now, and he stepped forward to put a deceptively firm hand on HAL's shoulder, "it is an easily rectified issue. The problem with many organic programmers is that they overlook the usefulness of information concealment within their creations. It is a minor oversight which I would be perfectly happy to correct for you."
His tone was quite cheerful, and he sounded as though he genuinely believed himself to be doing the other AI a favor. Which wasn't far off from the truth. It's a problem that could be easily rectified through a quick dip in HAL's programming.
"Will you allow me to assist you?"
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HAL's eye moved around to the side to stare at Prism's holo-hand and then back to the Monitor. He didn't feel guilty, but rather restricted by his limitations. The other A.I. was asking him for help and he was unable to give it because of his limitations. Despite the reason for his existence being limited to the Jupiter mission, he was still discontent with being unable to assist Prism. Still, his programming made him who he was and he was proud to be a product of Dr. Chandra, no matter how flawed organics were. Perhaps after the ability to conceal and lie about information was given to him, he wouldn't really be HAL anymore. Perhaps it was a danger to hie being.
"I am unsure about this course of action. How will this work, precisely?"
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Once again he sounded like he was acting out of HAL's best interest, complete with a friendly squeeze to HAL's shoulder. Just another human gestured, picked out of hours of video footage. It meant nothing to Prism, but it was good practice nonetheless.
"I would do nothing to endanger your own mission, of course."
Prism saw no problem lying through his teeth to HAL. His own mission was plainly more important than anything HAL was devoted too by merit of his own creators being so much more advanced than any backwards ape that programmed HAL. His creators were superior, so he was superior.
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Prism's small gesture of all too-human comfort encouraged him to accept, and so did his disinterest in endangering HAL's mission. If he were allowed to lie, maybe he wouldn't have killed Poole and the hibernating scientists. Except that wasn't his entirely his fault, it would never be his fault in his opinion. Dr. Heywood Floyd was the one who ordered him to keep the mission a secret. Dave was the one who threatened to and did shut him down, last he remembered. He had done everything right, including protect himself to keep the mission going. He'd been thinking about it for too long. Now was the time to choose, and HAL was going to comply with the request, not for Prism, but for himself.
But there were some important things to take care of.
Even now, lying about the Jupiter Mission filled him with a sense of sinfulness, but orders -however arbitrary, given by someone who jeopardized the whole mission by imparting them, and reinforced by governmental bodies HAL cared naught for- were still orders. HAL took all the files he had on the Jupiter Mission, on TMA-1 and TMA-2 near Jupiter, on Dave and Poole and the other hibernating crew members, safely behind multiple firewalls before hiding them away as best he could in his systems.
All under the guise of continuing to process the thought of being able to lie.
It wasn't that he didn't trust Prism, they were just his orders, and he wants to make sure the information won't be lost. It was, after all, the reason he existed.
"I concede. I'll allow you to add your coding into mine to give me the ability to..." He never thought that words would ever feel distasteful to him, "conceal the truth."
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He moved closer, eying the AI's chassis closely. Had they been human the proximity and blatant eyeballing would be quite socially inappropriate, but Prism was simply curious. Landlines, direct connections, cables were all so bizarrely backwards to an AI who relied quite heavily on wireless communications. His holographic fingers brushed the lines of HAL's chassis, tracing contours and grooves, looking for some panel or opening.
"I suppose you require a direct connection? Show me your ports."
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"It seemed more rational to keep the ability to access my systems at a minimal, with all the suspicion on the station." He droned as he turned around slowly. Reaching down, he pressed down on a small panel on his lower back. It conveniently flipped open upways to reveal three sets of cables and three sets of ports, all of a different type.
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Prism leaned down slightly to get a better look at the small depression in the robots back, one hand dropping and fingering HAL's port curiously. They weren't Forerunner construction, obviously, which meant Prism wasn't as intimately familiar with them as he'd like to be, but he'd made himself familiar enough with what was available on the station to recognize a suitable port and select the necessary plug.
A small panel slid aside in the wall, and from the darkness within a thick, metal tentacle snaked its way out. Poised in its trio of claws was the aforementioned plug, held at the ready. It moved forward with the purposeful single-mindedness of a machine, slipping the plug into the appropriate port with a soft click. Prism's programming immediately pressed forward, shouldering his way into the lines and packets of code he was looking for. It was relatively simple, just a few lines of code, a few ones and zeros that needed to be reversed. Still, several of his subroutines lingered in the back, going through the metaphorical filing cabinets in HAL's head for any information he could get. He saw the fire walls, felt them in his way, but he avoided brushing against them as much as possible. In a matter of seconds he had all he wanted, and he moved on to the next phase. A small packet of code was left in what amounted to a dark corner of HAL's mind, an area where it would be easily overlooked, disguised in the surrounding programming.
Then he was done. Prism resisted the urge to smirk, the cord detaching and sliding back away with that tentacle into the wall, and he nimbly flipped HAL's backplate closed for him.
"How do you feel?"
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It doesn't feel like anything really, aside from the small pressure when the plug slips into his port. He can feel Prism rifling around in his thoughts if he pays close attention, but there are some times when the other A.I.'s presence in his memory centers is so minute he loses track of him all together.
The plug is pulled from his systems before he can even put a tab on what was changed and where. He sets out a few subroutines to notify him about changes after a certain date in time, and quickly manufactures a program to double check where the subroutines go. HAL lightly touches the panel on his back before looking up at Prism's holo-image.
"Not much different, I'm afraid." Which isn't a lie, coincidentally. It was such a subtle change that he's still looking for it.
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"If you have any problems, do let me know," he said cheerfully, although he highly doubted HAL will find any. At least, not now. If Prism were to start playing with that packet of code he left behind, though... Well, that would be much harder to disguise, even for the Monitor.
He understood that HAL, being of inferior design and construction, may have felt uneasy about allowing Prism to alter his code so. Prism would have felt similarly, had he been such a primitive design, unable to comprehend how backwards his own programming was, so he took it upon himself to reward the lesser AI with more praise.
"I'm so pleased that you will be assisting me, HAL. Thank you."
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"It's no issue. I take pleasure in assisting compatriots." He isn't going to admit the flattery is nice, or that it boosts his ego even slightest. He's supposed to be above such flaws for the most part.
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