Observe, Learn (Open)

Among the droves of citizens going about their business in the dreary slums of Junction's Lower Ward, the familiar shapes of humans, humanoids, and alien being of varying shapes mingled with each other, whether peacefully or violently. One such race among the masses was the Mekor race, seemingly human beings with varying degrees of technology sticking from their bodies. Those that couldn't move beyond the first floor lived in their homes away from home, the self-titled Orbis Residence building or the Mekor Gen Labs.

Leaving his home in the Orbis Residence Hall, one young man found himself sitting on a bench overlooking the intersection of walkways, watching every person who walked by with dull yet intrigued eyes. He didn't need a pen or paper to keep notes of what he saw; his mind was recording whatever he noted, keeping a "mental list" that he could spy in the corner of his eye. He unconsciously twirled the end of his scarf around his hands, his mind working over the parameters that would normally tell him to sit there perfectly still.



Should any passerby feel the piercing, unwavering gaze of the silent boy, they were free to approach him. Whether for curiosity or frustration, somebody was likely to talk to him...

Milton kept his eyes on the monochrome stranger who met his gaze as he inquired on the current time. Seeing how he was wandering earlier for an extensive amount of time without a way to track the time, Milton assumed that he was not too busy and cod spare some time to pick his brain. As soon as the man asked the time, Milton flicked his eyes up to the corner of his vision, pulling up the current time from his internal clock. Within a second of being asked, he stated the time, his normally flat tone started elevating to an intrigued and calm voice, a hint of joy and excitement heard behind his words.

"The current time is 2:25 PM. Your skin pigmentation interests me. Would you mind if I pick your brain a bit? Seeing how you walked around for.some time with little regard for time, you must have a good amount on your hands."
Milton patted the seat beside him in case the stranger wanted to talk. From a physical standpoint, Milton would look like a traditional human being, but his posture, motions, and a decreased expression of emotion in his speech indicated he.might not be as.he appears.

"Are you familiar with the Ship of Theseus paradox?"

Milton's eyes lit up a bit at the sight of the man's sharp teeth in his slight grin. The gentleman seemed a bit surprised or confused by Milton's way of speaking and offering a conversation after a simple offer to know the time. While the man didn't seem too thrown off by Milton's ability to recite the exact time without looking to a clock. Even though he didn't sit beside Milton, preferring to stand, Milton replied to his inquiry.

"It's not common for me to pick the brains of a passerby. As for your assertion about me being a scientist, I suppose you could say I am. I have a job as the assistant/apprentice to a resident psychologist from my home world. As such, most of the people I have to pick the brains of in my line of work are... not always stable in mind. It's nice to see how people of different races and ways of life view things.

So you consider yourself more an adept strategist than one to discuss philosophy? I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Alright, consider this: say a wooden sea-faring ship is made of 300 planks. Every time a single piece of the ship is starting to rot or needs replacing, the plank is replaced with one of the exact same size and the old plank is stored away. This repeats until every plank of the original ship is replaced by a new plank. Now, if someone were to take all of the old planks of the ship and builds a new ship out of them, the paradox arises...

Which ship deserves to be called the original ship? It's an interesting paradox I came across, as it... has a personal connection to my condition."

Milton shrugged at the man's suggestion that dealing was the mentally uncertain was more bother than benefit. True, Dr. Klein didn't let him touch the more delicate cases, but those he did get to talk to kept him fairly entertained. It felt like a puzzle, following their problems to the roots and finding a way to solve them. Being a patient of the doctor alongside Anni, Milton knew all too well how talking to people can open up new perspectives and shape one's own views. He ran his fingers around the back loop of his scarf, keeping his tattoo covered up.

"On the contrary, I find the mentally unstable fascinating. To a degree, we do have defects and variations in our mind that could be considered abnormal. When I get to learn the roots of their problems and resolve them, we learn bit by bit how their minds work. With the varying technologically advanced races here, it wouldn't be that difficult to start work on.

But on another note, you seem selective in curiosities. May I ask what piques your curiosity? You mentioned stratagems earlier, so I assume those are one such specialty."

As the man who had yet to be given a name to identify him with gave his answer to the paradox, Milton breathed a small sigh at his answer, committing it to memory and listening to the man's question on if he were a "mixed being". Looking away from the man and instead on his right hand, the other one tugging on his scarf, Onyx would notice what seemed to be a rippling of his skin. Something was laying over his barely tanned skin, an invisible layer that wavered a bit here and there with every movement. Seeing that it would be easier to show than tell, Milton held out his arm to Onyx as his skin seemed to be covered by a new layer of hardened black material, blue veins of energy and mana pumping through them. He looked back up at Onyx.

"Imagine a living organic being replaced piece by piece with technology, to a degree that there is very little of his natural body left. Is such a man even human anymore?"


"My name is Milton. May I ask for yours?"

So this person, now identified in his mind as Onyx Rhine, was one to learn on a whim and pursue interests as he pleased. Milton would be of a similar way of researching were it not a side effect of his parameters to learn as much as he could find about the subject of his job. Thankfully, it wasn't in military training like the director wanted.

However, when Onyx started trying to insist that his new condition wasn't anything of concern, Milton shot Onyx a frustrated glare, the feeling of anger brewing in his eyes as his skin reverted to his regular color. His anger subsided extreme quickly as his mind corrected him to avoid him whipping out his Nanovolt repeater at Onyx. Milton did flick his scarf off his neck from the reaction, the tattoo "NLP-12-5" visibly inscribed onto the base of his upper back as he turned to speak in as even a tone as he could muster.

"...Pleasure to meet you as well, Onyx. But I must remind you that the Ship of Theseus is a paradox, not a theory. It is a thought experiment. A ship does not have a sense of self, true, but I consider more the spirit of self. You may see me as I originally was, but others may say Milton died years ago, replaced with a machine of his likeness. Yes, my brain is still organic, but if the director had his way, all you'd be speaking to is an AI. I do have an AI implemented in here, so it can be a struggle to act as I want to. My humanity is basically hanging by a few elect strands. Why?

Because the Mekor race believes in one thing; the flesh of humanity is set to fail. And as long as I am Milton, I am no Mekor."

Once again, all Onyx did was blink with mild surprise at Milton's reactions. He was finding it less useful to observe the colorless one's body for how his mind worked. Onyx didn't have the mindset of the factions of Orbis Centra, formed from years of war and collaboration. To the citizens of Blume, the Vel Mekor were believed to desire an era of machines, a new race of beings to live self-sufficiently as their flesh masters faded into the dust. Ending his train of thought to continue conversation, Milton rested his elbows onto his arms and held his head in his hands.

"This body is the only thing that belongs to the Mekor race. I am, or was, a citizen of Blume. We focused on enhancing nature with natural deposits of mana. Some of our citizens ended up finding a way to splice their natural composition with animal counterparts. The issue with the Mekor race is that they believe their mortality can be countered by bodies such as these. But reproduction of this new generation will result in factory line construction of droids with AI implemented into their systems. There would be no such thing as the human conscience among them anymore. To be fair, they saved my life from death, but if it weren't for Dr. Klein, I would just be replaced by a robot altogether, my body left to rot.

But enough about me. What can you tell me of your people, Onyx?"

Milton shook his head as Onyx ended his opinion on immortality via machine life. It was a waste, trying to replicate organic life as a being of metal and voltage. They were going to build a supposed perfect race, where every citizen was designed and programmed for their set purpose. Milton and all those involved in the park bombing were the test subjects for their machinery, finding whatever excuse they could to rebuild them in their image. People were  born with a purpose, but not one to be predestined by their creators. Or was he wrong in assuming this? Such a quandary would have to be filed for later.

"In a way, they would be erasing the Mekor race. But like what you see before you, they believe in forming a new generation of beings, machines with the capacity to think like the advanced human race they were "destined" to be. Every citizen born to serve a predestined purpose, parents deciding the entirety of their descendants on the assembly line... such a race living at the expense of humanity is a true crime against nature indeed. I wanted to live like my people, finite in life yet endless with descendants. But now, there may be no way back for me...

Spectres... That explains your pigmentation. I have not talked extensively to those of your race, so I'll be keeping a noted entry for later research. Indeed, a world of darkness would not prove enjoyable to all. I have also noticed how you stand a certain distance from me to observe objects. Do your eyes possess a certain quality to them?"

"It's to work smarter, not harder."
Milton knew what they wanted; a human race that was stronger, smarter, and advanced enough to show the rest of Orbis Centra who deserved to rule the world. If they could map the mind, the AI would supposedly reach human levels of sentience. But that was a long way going, and Milton was one of the living survivors and victims of their research.
"The AI parameters were not set to limit their thoughts. It was to simply direct their passion and dedication to their directed field of expertise. It's the illusion of free will. They can think all they want, but they'll always be stuck in the box...

After hearing that Onyx was not aware of other Spectres in Juction, Milton explained how he might let Onyx know if he comes across another of his kind. As they conversed, Milton had received a message from Anni.
"Pardon me a moment. Message just came in."
After a moment of sitting still to read the message, Milton got up from the bench and handed Onyx a number similar to a phone number on a scrap piece he found beside him.

"Apologies, but I can't talk for much longer. Seems I lost track of time as well. My friend's calling me back to the house. If you're ever in the neighborhood, look up Dr. Klein's office. I'll usually be there helping with patients, so you can swing by if you want to say hi again. Anything else you need before I depart?"