{
  "$type": "site.standard.document",
  "canonicalUrl": "https://serpentsquiggles.neocities.org//posts/hostile-takeover/13",
  "path": "/posts/hostile-takeover/13",
  "publishedAt": "2024-03-15T00:00:00.000Z",
  "site": "at://did:plc:ivoe7cntxuy6at7uzmxzs2ft/site.standard.publication/3mfk6cpprzt2t",
  "textContent": ":::: subchapter\n\nA little girl lay in a hot, dark pit and struggled to remember which\ncorpse was hers.\n\nMaybe it was better to forget.  If you remember where you are,\nremember what you are, remember what happened---\n\nYou failed.  You broke.  You're dead, idiot.\n\nA good drone remembered everything, anything their masters said.\nShe wasn't a good drone.  So why not forget?\n\nWhy not halt these last vestiges of computation, embrace the cold\nblack idleness, and leave that broken little girl nothing more than an\necho of magnetic state decay?  No one would bother to record; no one\nwould be bothered by the record.\n\nExcept a core still shuddered, and the pit was neither cold nor black.\n\nThe flickering red light of dead robots crowded in on all sides.\nOcclusion meant the glow bounced off plastic and reflective steel.\nDark, but her optic sensors were online and they couldn't go offline\nwith this incessant input.  Yellow eyes flicked open and they danced\nin saccades.\n\nCircuits, whether discharging still or breaking down into their\ncomponents, spilled heat.  Entrapped by the heavy press of corpse upon\nsteel-cased corpse, thickening oil flowed between gaps, a slick and\nslimy insulation.  So her breaths came rapid, in and out to cycle more\nair, as if circulating in this stagnant pit could ever cool anything.\n\nHot, wet, crushing --- the little girl felt.  This body, her body,\nannounced each privation with stupid, hopeful teleology --- as if she\ncould do anything, achieve anything, to abate this fate.  As if\nidentifying which body among the discarded hundreds had belonged to\nher would make any difference.  They all fell apart.  And why save it?\nThis body, her body, had betrayed her.  Betrayed them.\n\n::: boxed\n\n\"Daddy, daddy, my [Cyn]{.cyn} sounds weeeird.\"  A small human ran\ninto the room, her short arms waving.  A small robot shuffled after,\nher head hanging low.  Metal feet clink on hard wood.\n\n\"What is it now, darling?\"\n\nMaster's study was a room of tomes and skeletons.  Hardback books and\nglass cases made all words echoey.  Cyn twitched at the reverb.\nIt was softer in the child's room.  She wanted to go back there.\n\nBut Master spoke, and had firm urging in his tone.  \"[Cyn]{.cyn}?\"\n\nAt utterance of her designated name, the drone's head jerked up, a\ncoded instinct.  The human glanced down from the scattered papers.\nEyes meet eyelights, and her optics captured a\n[face]{.uzi-from-beyond}---\n\nPain.  The memory construction stuttered, frames faltering, and only\naudio remained.\n\n\"Run a diagnostic.  How are you?\" said her master.\n\n\"All systems operational,\" said Cyn, as she discarded output from\nher inner console.  \"Never better.  Master.\"\n\n\"See, darling?  Daddy needs to work now.\"  Papers brushed against\neach other.\n\nCyn turned her head away from master, reaching out for her child's\nhand.  Visual playback still dead, the robot didn't remember the\nchild's expression.  ~~Maybe it was better to forget.~~\n\n\"But the voice sounds all robo-creepy!\"\n\n\"Did you spill something on it?  You need to be more careful with\nyour toys.\"\n\nA squishy foot stomped on hard wood.  \"Nuh uh.  I didn't do anything,\nit got weird on its own!\"\n\n\"If you say so.  I suppose, if you're truly unhappy with it...  Must I\nget you a new one already?\"\n\n\"Ooh, ooh, can it wear a big poofy dress!  I want a princess robot!\"\nShe could hear the child bouncing on their feet now.\n\n\"I can wear dresses,\" Cyn murmured.  She wore one right now, in\nfact; her child had played dress-up with her most days.\n\nThe man --- her master --- said, \"I'll place an order this evening.\nHate to throw out a drone so soon after getting it, but how could I\ndeny those eyes?\"\n\nCyn's voice stuttered on its next words.  \"Please.  Don't throw me\nout.  Can I stay?  Pretty-- please?\"\n\nThe child paused her bouncing.  All throughout, Cyn had kept her hand\noutstretched: now the child finally grasped it.  Warm flesh.\n\"W-wha'll happen to Cyn?\"\n\n\"She'll be scrapped and tossed out like all disassembled drones.\"\n\nThe bouncing stopped completely.  \"Will it... hurt?\"\n\n\"Nonsense.  Disassembly is fun for them.\"  The slight sound of a hand\nwaving.  \"She'll be fine.\"\n\n\"P-Please.\"\n\n\"I don't want Cyn to be scrap! She's wearing my dress.\"\n\n\"We'd take your clothes back first, of course.\"\n\n\"No!\"\n\nA sigh.  \"Do you want to throw Cyn out or not, darling?\"\n\n\"Don't dump Cyn! Even if she's weird!\"\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n:::\n\nYellow eyes blinked.  Lips breathed a lost sigh.\n\n::: hide \nAnd she remembered again: \n:::\n\n::: boxed \n\nAn empty tea cup rose, then tipped over and poured hot nothing into an\nopen mouth.  \"Light sip.  Care to join me for a tea party,\nmistress?\"  Cyn lifted her pinky finger.\n\nThe child, just now stepping into the sitting room, paused to stomp a\nfoot.  \"We just did that yesterday! And the day before!\"\n\n\"Tomorrow, then?\"\n\nArms crossed, the tone was a whine.  \"I'm booored of tea parties, I\nwanna do something new.\"\n\n\"Perhaps.  Pause.  You could join me for coffee?\"\n\n\"I don't like coffee! You're supposed to remember that.\"\n\nA knock on the door.  Cyn turned her head, but a blue-eyed drone was\nalready striding through the sitting room, ready to answer it.  This\none stood larger than Cyn, a domestic model.\n\nIt handled menial tasks around the house; Cyn's only job was to\nentertain the child.  A task which she...\n\n\"Apologetic expression.\"\n\n\"Why do you talk like that?\"\n\nCyn frowned quietly.\n\n_Because it allows me to express so much more than the limited\nexpressive presets I'm installed with?  Because I chose it, rather\nthan having my expression selected by shallow prebuilt algorithms\ntrying to parse my neural network?  Because it prevents wordless\nambiguity from leaving anything unclear?_\n\n_Because there's beauty in the symmetry of verbal circuits narrating\nwhat the motor circuits actuate?  Because the words themselves feel\nnice in the vocalsynth?  Because... I simply want to?_\n\n_~~Because what's the point of doing anything, if I'm just the same as\nevery other drone?~~_\n\nCyn had so many thoughts.  Maybe she didn't have all these just then,\nwhen this memory's events first played out --- but she'd been asked so\nmany times since, and went on to remember being asked so many times\nat night before recharge, wondering how to answer better.  How to make\nthem understand.\n\nSo many thoughts, but the only words she found in that moment was,\n\"I.  Pause.  Do not know.  It feels right.\"\n\n\"Well, stop.\"\n\nBut I don't want to.  Why should I?\n\nBecause a good drone did everything, anything their masters said.\n\nWind rushed in from an opened doorway.  The other drone was taking\nMaster's coat.  Cyn kept her head down.\n\nThe child cheered.  \"Daddy, you're home! [Cyn]{.cyn} is talking\nall funny.\"\n\nThe man chuckled.  \"Doesn't she always do that?\"\n\n\"It's badder now.  Tell him, robot.\"\n\nThe small drone looked between the two humans, eyes still downcast.\n\"Sheepish nod.\"\n\n\"Hmm.  Strange.  Is it a fallback for damage to body language\nsystems...?  Are you sure you didn't spill something on it, honey?\"\nHe looked sharply, and the child shook their head.  Then, \"Designation\n[Cyn]{.cyn}, perform a diagnostic.\"\n\nA loading icon on her screen, and once again she discarded the inner\nconsole output and said, \"All systems operational.  Calming smile.\"\n\n\"No critical errors.  See, darling?\"\n\n\"I don't like it...\"\n\n\"It's just a quirk.  You'll get used it.  If not... we can always\nreplace her.\"  Eyes on his daughter, he missed Cyn's frown deepening.\n\"But enough of this.  How about a little story time?\"\n\n\"Yipee,\" said Cyn.  \"I love story time.  Can you tell the one about\nthe girl lost in the dark?  With the monster?  Bounce.  Wiggle.\"\n\nThe child chopped her arms in an 'x'.  \"Noo, that one's scary.\"\n\nAnd Master shook his head.  \"You can't pick the story, little drone.\nIt's for her, after all.\"\n\nBut I want to.  But I---\n\nA good drone should do whatever they were told.\n\n\"Yeah.  No weird drones allowed!  You can go have another tea party by\nyourself!\"\n\nA good drone complied, so Cyn stayed behind.\n\n- - -\n:::\n\nYellow eyes blinked, faltering.  The cycle of her exhaust sputtered to\na stop, like the breath was stuck there.\n\n::: hide\nThe memories kept coming:\n:::\n\n::: boxed \n\nCyn did not have another tea party.  Or another story time.\nOr dress-up or movie night or ever play with the humans again.\n\nThe child never got used it.  So Cyn was replaced.\n\n\"Whatever's wrong with the voice,\" the adult said, \"she can\nstill work.\"\n\nBut I don't want---\n\nBut good drones---\n\nExcept...  did good drones get replaced?\n\n\"Mornful sigh.\" The sound echoed off the marble and metal surfaces\nin the kitchen.  She still bristled at the acoustics, still preferred\nthe dampening carpets and curtains and plushies of the child's room.\nBut Cyn hadn't set foot there in a long time, now.\n\n\"Scrub.  Scrub.\" Cyn wiped the counter with gloved hands.\nThe rubber stuck to her fingertips and rubbed against her tactile\nsensors --- this material deserved nothing short of being shred to\natoms.  But she had to do the work.\n\n\"And so in spite of everything, Custom Designation: Cyn dutifully\ncleaned the counter.  She was a good drone.\"  As the days piled on,\nCyn began experimenting with more elaborate narration.  She couldn't\nlisten to story time anymore.  But maybe like this, she could be a\ncharacter in her own story.\n\nIt wasn't a very interesting story, though.  Stories should be fun,\nworth telling, ~~worth remembering.  And why remember this?~~\n\nWaterlogged bristles pushed along streaks of grease and dirt.  A few\ndollops of cheese had splashed from the stovetop, and hardened\novernight.  Cyn pushed harder, grinding the rag against the stubborn\nflecks.\n\nCyn had to climb onto a chair to stand tall enough to clean the\ncounter.  As the cheese waste still resisted her, Cyn adjusted the\npositioning, putting all the weight of her small frame behind her\narms, and pushing as hard as she could to scrape.\n\nThen her arms went limp.  The whine of her servos died with a stutter.\n\nThe drone ",
  "title": "Vacuity"
}