milliways_bar | (no subject)

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One forge god over by the observation window, testing out a prototype.

It is a small-scale armillary sphere model, in steel, of the destruction taking place nightly outside the aforementioned window. Unlike most armillary spheres, turning the crank doesn't just make the stars move in their orbits; no, it collapses them into the center, grinding the metal into dust and sparks (that are contained in the base of the model).

He pauses now and then to let the faint crackle and hum of entropic energy dissipate, to compare the workings of the model with the destruction outside the window, and of course, to sip his beer. Botherable, in his own way.

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And it is very interesting. Bumblebee's seen a lot of people watching the Window before, but never anyone actually trying to model it.

What's this? What's this?
There's color everywhere
What's this?
There's white things in the air...

... he reverts sometimes. We're sorry.

And he gets a polite nod from Weyland on one of his beer-sipping breaks from turning the handle.

"It moves much more quickly outside than this does," he says, as though it explains everything.

"That's impressive," Bumblebee says, his voice falling back to rusty, crackly normal. "Is it really imitating it all?"

"Not all of it," he says. "I wanted to see if it would work in a small scale--there's simply not enough room to fit all of it here. But if this works, and it seems to, there will be a much larger model that will have as close to all of it as is possible to replicate."

"That seems like a lot of work, to map it that closely," Bumblebee says. "Is there any particular reason for this?"

There might not be. He's seen Wheeljack get caught up in engineering for engineering's sake before.

"It's to harness the energy," he says. "We can't touch what's out there, but if we can reflect it and collect that... mirrored sunlight still illuminates. Of course, it needs to be bigger."

...and probably a little less crazy.

Bumblebee looks to the Window for a moment, and then back to the device. "I almost wish," he says, "that I'd been built for research. I might understand that more, then."

"We can all transcend what we were made for," he says. "To an extent, anyway. What were you built for, if you don't mind my asking?"

"A courier," says Bumblebee. "Not the fastest, but fast, and inobtrusive. I've had upgrades since, when my functions called for it."

"Ah... honest work," he nods. "And upgrades are certainly a help. It seems that almost as soon as we are finished, someone somewhere is working on something newer and more elaborate."

"Especially among my people," says Bumblebee, "since we can make the changes in ourselves that we need, when we need them. Some mechs can't leave well enough alone."

He chuckles quietly, peeling back the illusion of a glove over one of his mechanical hands.

"I certainly know that feeling. It's very hard to stop sometimes."

Bumblebee doesn't have eyebrows to raise, but he does make a faint, startled whistle at the sight. When he recovers himself he says, "My apologies. This is Milliways. I should know better than to assume by now."

"No need to apologize," he says, returning his glove to his hand. "We're all... somehow out of the ordinary, to be here. It's just not always apparent how."

Bumblebee shrugs lightly, a complicated motion of parts and armor. "I suppose being Cybertronian qualifies," he says. "Given all the humans here..."

"It does seem to be mostly humans," he says. "Humans and goddesses. But I don't mind either kind--nor creatures of metal. Are all your people like you?"

"Oh yes," says Bumblebee. "All life of Cybertron is machine life. That being our homeworld, I mean. My designation is Bumblebee, as it happens."

"It must be quite something," he says, trying to picture it. "Metal life--born, or made?"

Not that it really makes a difference. Lines get blurred.

"Mine is Weyland. A pleasure to meet you."

"We build new mechs' protoforms in factories," says Bumblebee, "and incept them with their sparks from the Allspark itself."

He won't go into what became of the Allspark. Not just yet.

"There are drones and such, but they have no minds or sparks of their own; they're only automated."

"Ah..."

He nods. "Of course. Not everything needs a spark, and it would be a waste to give one to everything. It's the same with my work--some things can exist on their own, move and react on their own, but one would not need sentient silverware, for instance."

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