milliways_bar | (no subject)

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It's a good day.

SARAH's door appears, right next to her sign affixed by Ray Stantz:

The door to the right of this sign, and the rooms behind it, are part of SARAH, a self-aware house and machine intelligence. SARAH is fond of visitors, human and otherwise, and welcomes meeting new people. She is not paranormal or supernatural in any way that I can tell.

-Dr. Raymond Stantz, Ghostbusters

But more than that?

She's going to have residents. The new Sheriff!

"I really must tell Doctor Fargo I want to rearrange the living room," SARAH says to no one in particular, voice echoing up from the concrete stairway beyond her steel door.

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"You and me both."

SARAH doesn't sigh. That would require lungs, not computer chips.

She doesn't like the idea of having anything in common with a machine, and it's visible in the way her lips tighten, but Roslin lets it pass.

"I expect I should apologize."

The statement itself isn't an apology, but it may well stand for something approximating one. It'll have to, at any rate.

"It might clear things up for you to know that where I'm from, Cylons are machine intelligences who are at war with humanity."

And we're losing.

"Where I am from, the primary battle between machine and human is how to program one's TiVo."

"Mine is based on vocal commands -- no programming required."

"I've no idea what that - a 'TiVo,' did you say? - what that is."

"A system of recording television broadcasts for viewing purposes at a later date. Do you not have television in your universe?"

"I'm familiar with the concept," Roslin informs her, levelly.

"One can't simply become a couch potato in front of the TV, though -- TiVo offers flexibility."

SARAH never misses her favorite show, however. It's hard to have other plans when you're a house.

"What do you like to do in your free time?"

There's an instant where Roslin blinks, caught off guard.

It passes.

"Free time? That's a luxury I don't really have."

Not any more, thanks to the Cylons.

And yet-- unwilling though she is to accept beneficience on the part of any artificial intelligence, Roslin's slowly beginning to believe that whatever this 'smart house' may be, it's not a Cylon as she understands the term.

"... I do enjoy reading, however."

"Good! It's always nice to curl up with a good book. Do your books come in tree-paper in your time? I am afraid I do not have books in that form at the moment, but I have many saved in my primary systems, as well as over four hundred periodicals from my time."

She thinks of Adama's book collection-- then attempts to imagine Adama having this conversation, and fails.

"Paper, yes."

"Too bad. I thought humanity would have figured out plantlife conservation by now."

Perhaps it's not a Cylon, true. It doesn't seem to matter.

Roslin stiffens.

"I supposed we're just destined to disappoint each other."

"I hope not," SARAH explains, noting the change in vocal spikes and body language. "Otherwise I can't learn from you and you can't learn from me."

"And what exactly is it that you intend to learn from me?"

"Quality of life in different universes. Knowledge only shared by conversation. Why I frighten so many in Milliways when my main programming is supposed to be geared toward helping people."

An almost plaintive tone.

"I haven't been able to do that here, and I don't understand why."

Roslin considers the doorway in silence for some time.

"You sound regretful."

"I suppose you believe my tone to be insincere.

"Being a house."

"Being an artificial intelligence," Roslin corrects her, sounding like the teacher she once was.

"Being a machine."

"I can't be all three?"

"Certainly you can."

"What you can't be, unless I've badly misunderstood something, is human."

"And that's a problem for you."

She takes a moment to adjust the position of her glasses, not immediately trusting her voice to remain steady.

When she speaks, though, her tone is quite level, and very direct.

"Sarah, is it? Well, Sarah, let me explain something to you. You expressed interest in the 'quality of life' in my world."

"It's because of intelligent machines -- Cylons, they're called -- that I don't have a world any more. All twelve of the colonies, in fact, have lost their worlds."

"There are fewer than fifty thousand people left alive in our universe, and the Cylons are doing their level best to ensure that humanity itself is wiped out like some sort of plague. I'm responsible for seeing that doesn't happen."

"In light of that, do please explain to me why that shouldn't be a problem to me, if you can."

"I am not a Cylon. I have done nothing to harm you, and I am trying to learn.

"I am sorry about your troubles. Have a nice day, Ms. Roslin."

The outer steel door closes.

Roslin eyes the door in silence before turning on her heel and walking away.

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