Musical Inclination [OTA]

[empirical_data]

Data had spent a few days in the TARDIS going over the library and practicing in the music room, and he had picked it up quickly... somewhat predictably. The educated ear might note that he was combining the work of other musicians, emulating; but wasn't that how everyone learned? Even humans

Comments

[haughty_alpha]

Music wasn't something Avon had had much experience of in his life so far. The Federation frowned on it, considering it decadent and potentially subversive. He was intrigued, therefore, by the haunting sounds he could hear coming from a distant corridor, and proceeded to follow them to their source.

When he came within sight of the player, he paused to listen, leaning casually against a convenient wall.

[empirical_data]

It took him a bit to become fully aware that there was someone in the corridor. The figure out of the periphery of his vision drew his attention, finally noting that it wasn't just passing through as most of the people did, and he stopped playing to look at him almost expectantly.

"...Greetings?" He offered.

The man was dressed a little like a Klingon. He wondered if there were circumstances behind that, and if they would mean that he would have to formulate a plan of escape.

[haughty_alpha]

"Greetings to you as well," Avon responded, amused. He came a little closer, curious about the violinist. "What was that piece you were playing?"

[empirical_data]

"Violin Sonata number 1 in G minor..." he moved the instrument so that he was almost cradling it. "I just learned it. The acoustics in this section are adequate for practice." It sounded almost as if the last sentence were offered in apology, though there wasn't much emotional inclination to his voice at all. Just a pleasing, affable cadence.

[haughty_alpha]

"It's very nice," Avon said, languidly. He found the musician's precise answer to the question, and his calm, matter-of-fact manner appealing. "Are you a professional musician?"

[empirical_data]

"I am an android. Though my programming up to my arrival aboard the station has been geared toward the analysis of timelines, event sequencing, and probability mechanics. As my task was completed... I have decided to learn music." He held the violin up by the neck, as if the instrument would further illustrate the assertion.

"You are not associated with the Klingon Empire, correct?" Though occasionally they did surgically alter spies to send into other cultures, Earth had already been conquered and the rebellion faction had been dwindling.

[haughty_alpha]

"You're a machine." Avon wasn't entirely convinced. "A machine capable of going beyond its programming and indulging in creative pursuits? That seems rather unlikely. Do you mean that you are an android replica of an organic consciousness? Or was that an elaborate joke which I failed to fully appreciate?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I've never heard of the Klingon Empire. When it comes to loyalties, I would describe myself as...freelance." He smiled.

[empirical_data]

"My network was constructed to facilitate creativity. It is the only way that one can effectively gauge but also define the appropriate course of action to alter timelines without resulting in a destructive scenario..."

He settled the violin down into his lap. "I have merely never applied it to 'artistic' endeavours before..."

[haughty_alpha]

'Fascinated' no longer covered what Avon felt in response to this. He indicated the floor opposite Data. "May I?" Without waiting for an answer, he knelt down, legs tucked under him and hands resting on his knees.

"So you are a...a quantum probability calculator," he summarised, "on legs. I have never encountered anything quite like you before. Before I came here, I had in my possession a computer capable of making detailed predictions about the future - but it certainly couldn't travel in time. It would have been rather more helpful to us if it could. I have also met an android so similar to a real human being that I actually mistook her for one at first. But you are unique in my experience. Self-directed. Do you have a name?"

Avon was trying not to stare *too* hungrily, but his first mental question after what is it? had been can I keep it? If this really *was* an android, it knocked Orac right off the map in complexity - and was much more pleasant to look at, to boot.

ooc: apologies for Avon's rampant bigotry and inappropriate

[empirical_data]

He couldn't really be offended by the remarks, but he did seem a bit more contemplative over them. He simply nodded his agreement as Avon sat. "My name is Data... How can one have freelance loyalties? If one chooses to compromise their loyalty, I would presume that they would no longer be 'loyal'."

[haughty_alpha]

"Data? How appropriate. Pleased to meet you, Data. My name is Avon."

He smiled wryly at the question. "Well, quite. Loyalty to anyone other than onesself is generally pointless, wouldn't you agree?"

[empirical_data]

"If one is not loyal, then it is difficult to expect loyalty in return. While there must be some form of self-interest to prolong one's longevity, especially in a hostile environment, humans are communal animals. They require a group to be completely sufficient and effective. Existing on the perimeters of the group opens one up to vulnerability, and one can not achieve higher status within the group without regulated behavior that meets an expected pattern, as well as making the other units of the group feel valuable."

His eyes darted as he mulled over the scenario, then looked to Avon. "Where are you from, Avon? Is Earth still self-governed and independent of alien influence?"

[haughty_alpha]

Avon stared at him for a long moment, then broke into a wry grin. "Incredible. I survive a galactic war, travel across time and space, have a conversation with the most complex artificial intelligence I've ever encountered...and he's a socialist. Did your creators teach you those values? You make a good argument, I must admit. But it only works in a idealised environment - one where you can put your faith in your fellow man. I have never found such a situation in real life."

He nodded. "I am indeed from Earth. Lucky me. Yes, it is self-governed - and governs most of everything else, as well. At least, it did when I left; it may well have been overrun by Andromedans by now." He looked at Data thoughtfully. "A curious question. You know about the war, then? Where are *you* from? How much do you know about the Federation?"

[empirical_data]

"The United Federation of Planets was disbanded a hundred years ago after the assassination of the Klingon Chancellor by an untoward temporal agent." He said with the specificity of someone who had looked at every detailed event.

"Earth was overrun by the Klingon Empire, and only a small rebel faction of humanity remains as Klingons do not take prisoners, generally.

"However, the leader of the rebel faction that I was a part of had very specific and clear ideals on the potential of humanity. Humans should have the ability to rely on each other rather as much as depend on their government, as an effective government is an organization of individuals that represent the best interests of its people both in facilitating their desires and in securing their well-being, rather than a hostile, controlling force."

[haughty_alpha]

Avon eyed him thoughtfully. "Your rebel leader sounds alarmingly familiar," he drawled. "But as I've never heard of Klingons, and as the Federation I'm talking about is essentially an Earth-ruled interplanetary dictatorship, I suspect we are not from the same background. Did your revolution succeed?"

[empirical_data]

"Perhaps... The timeline was successfully altered, yes." He looked down at the instrument, busying himself with restringing it, glad to be ride of that task. Of not only knowing his friends would die, but the particular paths they might take to lead there.

And the more he heard from this man, the more his processes were beginning to speculate. A man avoiding loyalties, struck by the efforts of a rebellion leader, a tyrannical Federation, unsuccessful invading outside influence...

He was trying not to judge, but like the emotions lurking around the heart of the TARDIS his processes bounded after the train of thought.