#Everi

[grailfish]

Context: Everett Steele has recently awakened from his coma after his AI consciousness escaped from "The Stitch" and was re-uploaded into Everett's mind. Because of the cognitive dissonance from two different "voices" of himself fighting in his mind, he no longer feels fully human. Rodri, an AI clone of his creator who has not yet felt comfortable enough to tell Everett the truth about his identity due to his complicated feelings, tries to think of a way to comfort him. But there's really only one thing to do…

"Am I… human?"

Rodri's hands still on his coffee mug, the tiny bubbles on the surface swirling slowly around the spoon. When he looks up he can see the moment that The Researcher melts away, just leaving behind Everett.

"Yes," Rodri says. "Of course you are human."

The way that Everett's sullen expression remains unchanged makes Rodri feel like he picked the wrong answer.

"I don't feel like I'm really… this body doesn't feel like it belongs to me anymore," Everett says. "I wake up each morning and I'm expecting to see metal hands and numbers floating in the corner of my eyes. There's a voice narrating my every move like a digital log. It's like there are two versions of me trying to live in the same body and that—that can't be normal, can it? It's wrong."

Rodri's hands leave his cup on the desk to press against his mouth, mind racing through all of the potential answers that pop into his head to choose the best one.

He takes too long. "Sorry," Everett says, bracing one hand on the arm of the chair and the other on his cane as he stands. "It was a stupid question."

"Wait," Rodri says, reaching his hand forward as though to pull Everett back into his seat, even though he’s too far to reach.

Everett doesn't sit back down, but he stays in place.

"I think," Rodri starts, chewing on his bottom lip as the last of his mental script clicks into place. "I think that… reactions to traumatic experiences are very complex. And it is within this complexity that we find the essence of humanity."

Everett’s head dips lower, and Rodri can no longer determine the meaning of his expression. "The version of me that was in the Stitch. He was complex, too,"Everett says. "He was… he was me and he wasn't. He thought like me but he didn't. And then when he came back… it felt like he didn’t want to be here."

"That 'other you,' do you think that he wasn't human?"

Elliot’s eyes tilt up in an uncharacteristic glare. "What's that supposed to mean? Of course he wasn't. He—I—we built him."

"I see." Rodri's hands form a tent in front of his mouth. "Do you think that my daughter is not human?"

Everett appears taken aback. "Isn't she?"

"Elysia and I built her. We combined our DNA in a lab and used electrical stimulation to activate her growth before I implanted her into my uterus and took pregnancy hormones. Her creation was facilitated, not natural, so by that definition, she may not be considered—"

"But she has DNA, and a body, and a brain, and—"

"Well, so do you. If that's the only criteria, then I think that easily qualifies you as human."

"It's not the same!" Rodri jumps when Everett raises his voice. "It isn't… it's that. It's that voice. It's the other me that isn't me but it is, and it's not supposed to be here and it doesn't want to be here but it is, and I…"

Everett's voice trails off and his gaze once again falls back to the floor. Rodri doesn't have to ponder for a response this time, but he feels his guts tying themselves in knots at the realization of what he wants to say next. What he needs to say, even though he's been telling himself that it's too risky since the day they met.

Every single life tucked into his mind is flashing before his eyes in an instant. He understands being foreign in his own body, feeling like he shouldn't be privy to some of the intimate memories that were shared with him from a person who isn't quite someone else. He understands because all too often he is the voice, shouting that this isn't right, trapped in a place that he shouldn't ought to be.

"I'm like you," Rodri finally says, because it's all he can manage to voice in between all of the other information.

Everett looks up at him, eyes searching his face for something that Rodri can't see. "You mean you also… from our time in the Stitch?"

"No," Rodri says. "No, I'd say it's been much longer than that."

His heart is beating in his throat as he stands up from behind his desk and crosses over to where Everett is standing. He pulls at the band kept carefully around the hair at the base of his neck until it falls loose, reaching out to grab Everett's free hanging hand. The eye contact feels too intense as he guides Everett's fingers to the port protruding from the base of his skull, but he forces himself to maintain it.

Everett's breath hitches in his throat when his fingers brush metal, nearly flinching away were it not for Rodri's hand holding him in place.

"What is this?" Everett whispers.

"My port. It's where all of my memories are uploaded into my mindframe, and all of his memories were uploaded into me."

"But you're… you're human. I've seen you, I've felt you, I've been…"

"My body is human. And so was Dr. Cancar's. But the mind, the memories, everything up here," Rodri points to his head with his other hand, "it's both of us."

Everett shakes his head slightly like he doesn't quite believe what he's hearing. "What does that mean?"

"The technology that we used, the reason why we could make your project possible, Dr. Cancar's greatest pride and accomplishment. It was me. I was his breakthrough."

"You're… a clone?"

"Yes."

"And a… a machine?"

"I suppose you could say that, in some respects, a machine has shaped who I am."

"But does that make you…"

"Human?" Rodri finishes for him. His eyes find the ceiling and the hand holding Everett's drops away, though Everett still holds onto him with a rigid grip. "You know I'm not very good at lying," Rodri says. "And I don't like to play pretend. So I will not stand in front of you with confidence and say yes."

Rodri doesn't understand why his throat starts to feel tighter as he speaks. He doesn't like it when his emotions try to show through, because whenever they manage to get out they run far outside of his control. But he can't stop the wave that crashes over him and it's only Everett's hand that keeps him standing on his feet.

"Dr. Cancar was so happy, when he realized he could recreate a person—thoughts, memories, flaws and all. He thought that I was perfect in my imperfections, that I was as good as him, like a continuation of his consciousness that would live on after he died and continue to live for as long as there were copies of this body to fill with his mind. But I—" Rodri's eyes flutter as he recognizes the tears threatening to fall down his face. "But I'm not. I'm so far away from everything he was. Everything he wanted."

Everett finally lets his hand fall from the back of Rodri's neck, pulling it forward to caress his cheek.

"I feel like I ask myself every day, what exactly it is that I am," Rodri whispers. "His voice tells me what he thinks I'm supposed to be. Tells me so loudly what it is he thinks we are. And how am I supposed to tell him that we aren't what he was expecting. I'm… someone else now. And whoever or whatever it is that I am now, I couldn't tell you if that's human."

Rodri's eyes slip closed and he feels hot tears falling from them. Everett's hand pulls him closer, until Rodri's head is resting on his shoulder.

Rodri turns his head slightly and leans into Everett's neck. It smells faintly like his cologne, the same one that he'd been wearing that one night at the coffee shop years ago.

"It doesn't matter to me what you are," Rodri whispers. "It doesn't change the way I think about you. The way I feel. Even if you've changed, everything you are now still came from the same place, and that's the part that I care about. But I don't know how much that could possibly mean to you now, knowing who I really am."

Everett takes in a shuddering breath and doesn't answer for a while, but when he does his words are barely more than the shapes of his mouth. "It means the world."

Rodri's hands find Everett's shoulders and he makes fists in Everett's vest, feeling like his knees will give out at any moment. He's so overwhelmed, and his words are starting to fail him. He's had to chain far too many of them together, and their weight tugs his body down to the floor like shackles of iron. He doesn't feel his knees hitting the carpet, or the sound of Everett's cane dropping as he's dragged down with him, but he does feel Everett's arms wrapping around him tight and firm, like a brace against a broken bone.

"Thank you, for telling me," Everett murmurs against Rodri's hair. "And I'm sorry."

Rodri shakes his head. Everett had nothing to be sorry for. If anything, Rodri should be apologizing for his behavior, letting his own trauma get in the way when Everett was seeking out comfort.

"I mean it," Everett says. "I should have… I've known for a long time that you're different. Not just because of how you were… not just because of all of this. Fuck, I keep messing this up."

"No," Rodri says, shaking his head again and frustrated with himself that he can't say any more than that.

"What I want to say is, the reason I came to you in the first place was because I thought, for whatever reason, that you would be able to understand me. You're the only person here who could possibly know what I'm going through and I didn't even realize it was so much more than that. And then I went and made you cry."

Rodri wants to tell him it isn't true, that he only failed to keep a handle on himself and Steele couldn't take any responsibility for Rodri's own emotions.

"But the truth is I'm so, so happy," Everett continues. "Because you are the realest person that I have ever met. And I…" Steele trails off, neck bobbing as he swallows. His voice barely comes out as a whisper then he tries to speak again. "I was so scared, that this would make me lose you."

"Never," Rodri says. "It would never."

[transalfredpennyworth]

characters have to be a little bit awful in ways that you cant defend. its good for the ecosystem. your honor he did do that. He did in fact do that

[copepods]

leitmotifs never get old to me like holy shit dude there’s this melody that corresponds to this one guy and if you hear the melody it means the guy is there. holy shit. and sometimes it refers to ideas too not just guys. has anyone heard about this

[mias-back-from-the-dead]

tbh i think the funniest phenomena that's been happening in the last couple years is "youtuber, having gone too deep into the research hole, has been made an investigative journalist against their will"

[wolfythewitch]

How does this keep happening to me

[chiisana-lion]

[pjharvey]

making fun of americans is pretty much always ok if youre not doing it in an edgelord “you guys have so many school shootings” way or acting like we’re the only country that has racism. but like posts about americans and hamburger get me every time

[tariah23]

Oh…. Well, it’s over for Crunchyroll I guess

[bookwyrminspiration]

god I would be UNSTOPPABLE if I was capable of consistently initiating tasks. just you wait. you'll be waiting a while but just you wait

[ubercharge]

op is posting from tamriel. or perhaps the lands between

[frownyalfred]

Tips for writing those gala scenes, from someone who goes to them occasionally:

Generally you unbutton and re-button a suit coat when you sit down and stand up.

You’re supposed to hold wine or champagne glasses by the stem to avoid warming up the liquid inside. A character out of their depth might hold the glass around the sides instead.

When rich/important people forget your name and they’re drunk, they usually just tell you that they don’t remember or completely skip over any opportunity to use your name so they don’t look silly.

A good way to indicate you don’t want to shake someone’s hand at an event is to hold a drink in your right hand (and if you’re a woman, a purse in the other so you definitely can’t shift the glass to another hand and then shake)

Americans who still kiss cheeks as a welcome generally don’t press lips to cheeks, it’s more of a touch of cheek to cheek or even a hover (these days, mostly to avoid smudging a woman’s makeup)

The distinctions between dress codes (black tie, cocktail, etc) are very intricate but obvious to those who know how to look. If you wear a short skirt to a black tie event for example, people would clock that instantly even if the dress itself was very formal. Same thing goes for certain articles of men’s clothing.

Open bars / cash bars at events usually carry limited options. They’re meant to serve lots of people very quickly, so nobody is getting a cosmo or a Manhattan etc.

Members of the press generally aren’t allowed to freely circulate at nicer galas/events without a very good reason. When they do, they need to identify themselves before talking with someone.

[just-spacetrash]

the 'what if you played it a little risky' post literally Changed my life but i cant fujkign find it in my blog because its. a tiktok screenshot

[loathsome-sickness]

"people show their true colours in life threatening situations" no, they show you what they act like when they're mortally terrified, an emotion notorious for literally turning your entire brain off to the point where people who go into those situations as a profession need to be literally trained on how to not have that happen

[everyoneisgayandtrans]

We're gonna be okay

[james-p-sullivan]

the older i get and the closer i am to reaching 30, the more the people around me try to deny me my age. it’s a constant ‘oh you’re just turning 29 again teehee 🤭’ or ‘dont tell your SO that, he’ll leave you for a younger model 😉’ and i just???? hate it?????????

i spent my entire teenaged years fighting for my life. i crawled through the deepest pits of my depression to cling to the promise of a life beyond that pain. i was so convinced that i was going to die young, that i would never see the grace of my age starting with a 2, let alone 3.

so im going to turn 30, and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do to stop me from loving it.

[redstonedust]

i appreciate the attempts a lot of game devs are making with gender neutral character creation, and i appreciate that it's actually a very difficult task to implement that depending on the game's base code. but it's so funny to me when you hear an uproar because some game has "entirely removed the gender option from character creation!!!!!" so you go to check it out and its just like