TT: ...what the fuck am I even doing.
TT: What ARE you doing.
TT: Talking to Jake.
TT: He's...miserable.
TT: He wants to go back to his island.
TT: And I told him I'd find a way to make that happen.
TT: He just told me much the same thing.
TT: I'm an idiot.
TT: I told him there's no shame in homesickness.
TT: Yeah, I know.
TT: God you think we'd know better.
TT: That island's been his life for fuck knows how many years.
TT: Most of the ones he's been alive?
TT: It's like taking an animal out of its habitat.
TT: A plant out of its biome.
TT: More like taking a fish out of the tank.
TT: Uprooting a fucking tree where it stands.
TT: Yes, those are superior analogies.
TT: Thereabout.
TT: I suppose I just hoped that we'd be enough to...I don't know.
TT: I was just so surprised first time I saw him.
TT: Make it seem worthwhile.
TT: He took it all so easily, like he'd been doing it all his fucking life.
TT: Ha.
TT: It's like all I see us bringing him is annoyance.
TT: Dissatisfaction.
TT: Disgust.
TT: I was...actually excited to see him last game.
TT: But my presence only seemed to irritate him.
TT: Same.
TT: It's like.
TT: This isn't how it was supposed to fucking be.
TT: Not like how I pictured it at all.
TT: No, it fucking isn't.
TT: It seems we've...drastically overestimated the depths of even his platonic affections.
TT: Which is a kick in the goddamn teeth when that was already less than we wanted from him.
TT: What were we even fucking expecting? Warm welcomes and borderline platonic asspats all day long?
TT: Fuck.
TT: Me too.
TT: ((testing))
TT: (You're still there bb~)
TT: The intelligent thing to do would be to give up on what's blatantly a lost cause.
TT: But I don't think I'm capable of it.
TT: No.
TT: We're not.
TT: Because we are apparently motherfucking masochists.
TT: But it may be better to...recognize the extreme futility of what we're attempting.
TT: Do we really need to?
TT: I thought it was already well-established.
TT: Not well-established enough, or we wouldn't be having this conversation.
TT: We're a couple of tired assholes playing the romantic long-shot lottery.
TT: And guess what, the odds are one in a fucking million out of our favour.
TT: That is essentially how lotteries work, yes.
TT: We're the weary-looking pensioners buying one ticket a week with pocket change for the rest of our fucking lives.
TT: Every now and then, when we're really lucky, we'll win enough platonic affection currency to pay for a fancy dinner at Applebee's.
TT: Barely enough to provide a tip for the poor schmuck stuck as our waiter
TT: That's our collective futures, and we should just fucking accept the slow, protracted deaths of our romantic ambitions gracefully.
TT: We should, but we both know that we won't.
TT: We know we're going to spend the next hour or maybe even the next day thinking about it while utterly convinced that we're over it.
TT: Yeah.
TT: Building robots is easy.
TT: Building fucking working robotic entities with their own seperate personas and engines is fucking easy.
TT: Making a pair of shades containing the essence of our thirteen year old selves is a fucking cakewalk.
TT: Battles to the death with those killer robots on the rooftop of our fucking apartment building is like a refreshing romp in a sunny field of daisies and other assorted wildflowers.
TT: Compared to this.
TT: Compared to romancing Jake English, anything is possible.
TT: It's a couple of words at best.
TT: A rehearsed speech at worst.
TT: But every time I think about doing it, it's like my pulse just up and freezes in my veins.
TT: It's just as well we haven't said anything.
TT: Like every jittery, cold-feet cliche in the literary world has raised its head and simultaneously leapt upon my personage for a free for all gangbang.
TT: After tonight, I'm not even certain of the status of our friendship with him. I hardly feel convinced a romantic confession would lead anywhere good.
TT: He seemed to have more warmth of feeling for Brobot.
TT: Which, as much as I'm glad he's starting to accept our robotic and electronic counterparts...also hurts a lot more than I thought it would.
TT: Yeah.
TT: Sad thing is.
TT: I want to suggest disabling him.
TT: But that won't serve anyone's purpose.
TT: Reasoning being?
TT: And just like that, I feel shitty for even suggesting, much less thinking it.
TT: Disabling him simply due to Jake's reaction?
TT: Re-iterating an earlier statement.
TT: Sometimes I hate us.
TT: Oddly - and this is likely due to paradox space or time shenanigans or whatever is allowing us to occupy the same space at the same time - I'm having the opposite reaction.
TT: As painful as this is, I've been subtly encouraging Jake's sentiments toward Brobot.
TT: I deliberately tried to tug on his heartstrings for Brobot last game, through reverse psychology, and it seemed to have an effect.
TT: Or perhaps it would have happened anyway, I don't know.
TT: I told Brobot it
TT: 's because I want each iteration of ourselves to have an equal shot with him.
TT: Because kneecapping our potential competition would leave doubts, should we ever actually successfully woo Jake, as to whether he won him because we deserve him or because we'd simply taken out everyone else.
TT: (Note that this does not extend to all our competition. The bitch from the last game, as i informed Brobot, can step the hell off.)
TT: (Being female and adventurous, she's probably got a better shot already than all of us put together.)
TT: (I've entertained the thought and I don't like it a fucking whit.)
TT: (But you know this already.)
TT: (Damn straight.)
TT: Also, I don't think it serves our purposes for Jake to harbor contempt or any inequality of feeling for any of our splintered selves.
TT: Regardless of organic or electronic housing, it's all us.
TT: True enough.
TT: ...finally, the rather depressing conclusion that I've come to is that, if I can't have him, I'd at least be a little comforted if some iteration of me can.
TT: So, should Brobot succeed where we've blatantly failed, it's still a bittersweet victory for us.
TT: And I'd rather see him with Brobot than anyone outside of us, fuck knows.
TT: You know, that's an okay thought.
TT: Coupled with the desire to see brobot develop as more of himself instead of just a walking, talking training dummy.
TT: Exactly.
TT: I hope it happens.
TT: I won't pretend that my interest in his development doesn't play into my desire to leave him active.
TT: I'm considering upgrades.
TT: A more lifelike exterior.
TT: Elegant as he is now, adjustments could be made for Jake's own liking.
TT: ...I still hope I win him over, in some magical far-fetched fashion, and - though I say this with the greatest affection and respect for our creation - the hell with Brobot.
TT: With all the hope and futility of a horse with two broken legs hoping to win the race.
TT: Dragging its sad and mournful carcass through the dirt.
TT: But, as previously stated, I'm a fucking idiot.
TT: Even as the veteranarian approaches, loading the shotgun.
TT: That said, though, I've considered similar - or, more likely, identical - upgrades.
TT: We may want to approach the bot himself about these.
TT: Though I suppose calling them 'upgrades' is misleading.
TT: We could have installed this shit from the beginning and we both know why we didn't.
TT: We wanted that little bit of visual separation between him and us.
TT: So that he wouldn't be a perfect potential replacement for the real thing upon sending him to Jake.
TT: But I suppose it's time we get over that.
TT: May as well.
TT: Fuck.
TT: Where is Ro-Lal when you need her the most.
TT: Drunk off her ass?
TT: Distasteful as I find her near-constant state of soused.
TT: Pretty sure I could use some of her rotgut right about now.
TT: All of it.
TT: Half for you, and half for me.
TT: It'd either wipe our memories completely, or kill us.
TT: Both of which sound uncomfortably appealing at the moment.
TT: In regards to the upgrades - have you made up your mind as whether to go so far as some sort of artificial skin?
TT: Yeah.
TT: Durable compound.
TT: Not as stiff or unyielding as his current form but tough enough to withstand heavy action as he's doing now.
TT: The hair should be no real difficulty, of course. But none of that shitty wig material.
TT: Synthetic fibres for optimal effect and easy maintenance, but a good blend of.
TT: Yes.
TT: ...did they mention to you that Brobot is going to be staying with Jake now?
TT: This is actually becoming a thing.
TT: First I've heard of it.
TT: Welp.
TT: Jake just mentioned it to me.
TT: Excellent.
TT: Hahaha.
TT: What?
TT: I'd say something along the lines of brb throwing myself out the window, but the sheer melodrama of the statement only threatens to induce the headache I've been avoiding all this time.
TT: Do I want to know?
TT: Does it have something to do with Jake's leaving so abruptly?
TT: Related to, but not directly pertaining to his departure.
TT: (I'm getting kicked off the computer and onto my iTouch soon but I still want to hear what Dirk is going to say :| )
TT: Elaborate.
TT: At the risk of sounding churlish and childish.
TT: No, it's stupid
TT: That was less of a risk and more of an inevitability.
TT: Why the hell wouldn't you share this with yourself?
TT: True enough.
TT: Though to be fair.
TT: I don't trust myself half the time.
TT: But that's neither here nor there.
TT: Feeble derailment attempt aside.
TT: I may have left a hint of my intentions.
TT: Though if he picked up on it, he gave no indication.
TT: Shit.
TT: Well I suppose that's predictable.
TT: Humiliating and painful, but predictable because it's Jake.
TT: Very.
TT: Before he left, did he mention the headaches?
TT: Yes.
TT: And feeling angry.
TT: Concern eclipses grievous wounds.
TT: Honestly, I imagine it's a stress reaction.
TT: Told him to rest and I'd look in on him later.
TT: Being out of his element as he is, I imagine he's constantly tense and frustrated.
TT: I'm hoping it is.
TT: You suspect otherwise?
TT: I honestly have no idea how to nurse a flu-ridden islander back to health.
TT: Granted, our individual conversations with him have doubtless been different.
TT: You may have better information to come to an entirely different conclusion than my own.
TT: That and it's just.
TT: It's Jake.
TT: Yes.
TT: He's never angered unless it's warranted.
TT: If it isn't stress...
TT: I propose we keep a close eye on him in the event this is more than just acclimation troubles.
TT: ...then what?
TT: Agreed.
TT: ...not that we've ever needed a particular reason to keep an eye on him.
TT: ... True.