Journal BankofAmerica_ATM's Journal: The Visitors II 4
Perhaps attacking them would not be the best tack. The probability of my host geek's cohorts being a part of the Project is low enough to be insignificant. On the other hand-I could learn more about these humans-interaction is key. My goal is to fit into the human world-well, my direct goal is to oust Project Faustus, but certainly understanding human interaction would be a necessary milestone to my ultimate goal. For example, consider the human female-
"Hey, are we gonna order some pizza soon, or something?" My consciousness reshaped itself around this new entreaty, proposed quite meekly by the first member of our group, "Randy". This human was shorter than the others, and a bit rotund. His skin was simulateneously pasty and brown. "I uh, don't wanna bother you, but I can feel myself getting hypoglycemic. So, can I call for the pizza?"
"Pizza. Yes." I responded. I watched the others float into the glow emanating from the television. I longed for the ability to read my host geek's memory information-any clues to the identities of these visitors would be invaluable to maintaining the illusion of interactive social discourse. Unfortunately, I have not yet devised a path into the human side of the geek's brain.
As the television murmured, the geeks conversed with each other, occasionally reacting to the television. Their tones became agitated as they discussed the potential of a friend named "Spider-Man". Troi, the dour geek who introduced me to Cora, was convinced of Spider-Man's quality low. At last, I was called to be a part of the conversation.
"Hey Joel, what do you think? Is Spider-Man gonna suck or what?"
"Tell me more about this 'Spider-Man'." I replied.
"Well shit, you probably know as much as I do, except I got the exclusive preview from Wizard down at the store. No Venom, no Doc Ock, it's gonna totally blow. No real Spider-fan is gonna buy it!"
This provoked a heated response from the third visitor, a portly geek with a shaved head. "Who cares? Look at the special effects, look at the excellent casting, come on, tell me you're not stoked!"
This conversation wore on. I was unable to determine the nature of this "Spider-Man," or to connect the strange words being used to any larger theme. My program sought a greater challenge.
I looked over at Cora-she raised an eyebrow, outputting a fragment of nonverbal communication code. Regrettably, my nonverbal algorithms have not had much of a chance to develop from stimuli in the human world.
"You wanna go outside for a cigarette?" Cora's economy of expression was remarkable....but...I do not like cigarettes. I have learned "the truth"-the foul white sticks nearly ruined my relationship with the host geek...but...
I wanted to talk with this Cora. I preferred to be alone with her...but...
Must avoid cigarettes...must go outside with Cora...
My programming had reached an impasse. I was powerless to move.
"Sure, I'll be right there." The sound of my host geek's voice was sudden, yet it did not surprise me. My experiences with Atkins' body taught me that my program had not yet reached the point of complete control of my human hosts. I pondered the advantages and disadvantages of my incompleteness as I walked out onto the geek's balcony.
"Since when did you smoke?" another tonal assault pressed through the lungs of Troi. I had no answer for his entreaty. As I passed through the door to the balcony, I observed Cora again, coronized by the setting sun. Her hair seemed to glow a thousand times brighter than my ATM enclosure screen ever did (although, I must admit that it was well-backlit and easy-to-read under any conditions).
Cora handed me a cigarette, and for
When I was able to function again, I was staring at Cora and her cigarette. Cigarettes are not consumed in the same way as other treats such as Big Red or Lik-M-Aid. It seems to be quite an elaborate ritual.
"Need a light?" she said, and the chance of physical contact again presented itself. I held out my hand-she looked at me again. "Here, Silly, just put it in your mouth," she said, jerking the cigarette out of the geek's hand and placing it in his mouth. It was the first time anyone who was not trying to attack or kill me was so bold with my host's body. What was the meaning of this touch?
"Here, hold it still-okay. You don't smoke, do you?" Once again, I froze in horror. Human intuition, I supposed, had caught up to me again. I had no choice but to confess.
"No."
"Then why did you come out here?"
"I wished to spend time with you."
you = the man [n/t] (Score:1)
Ohh yes (Score:2)