I'm afraid that I was the one that was sadly vague. What I meant is that I enjoyed the previous android prompt, but I also enjoyed the added dimensions to this because an AI without a set body seems so much more vulnerable to code viruses/any bored slicer with a taste for danger, but also more flexible if they can download back-ups... but the potential identity conflict could get deliciously complicated. I love the-ship-is-alive fic and Hux using the ship to express his opinions as "body language" but also having to trust Kylo with his fragile hardware/core/chip is an *amazing* prompt. I hope this gets a fill!! In the meanwhile: mini crack dialogue while they're on the run:
Ren. No.
Huuuux. Yes.
No. Absolutely not. You are not installing me in your helmet. I am not a HUD. I am not a navigational bot. I am an advanced feat of engineering and continued evolution beyond your comprehension. I have commanded hundreds of thousands. I have held the fate of hundreds of billions in by my incorporeal hand and judged the study of their continued existance to outweigh the inconvenience of finding myself new lodgings. I have also destroyed my former lodgings and somehow thrown my lot in with you. This does not mean that I will acquiesce to your... disorder, mental and otherwise. We are temporarily sojourning in the same direction. You will convey me to an adequate relay point so that I may upload myself to the Universal Archive of the Alexandriux. I will generously see to it that this ship does not explode prior to that or immediately after. We will part ways and I will think of you only once, some centuries from now, with a feeling of inexpressible relief for the trouble from which I saved myself in escaping the morass of your seething emotional outbursts.
I never said you'd be a HUD. You're a HUX, and you're the only one because they either wised up or you ate the rest. But I'm willing to accept that you have the classic droid deficiency and trust you not to run us into an astroid anyway.
Deficiency?! I hesitate to ask and invoke more expectoration. Your brain might leak with the frothing. It would be an ignominious end, oxidized by your mammalian predigestive juices. And I am /not/ a droid.
Inflexibility. Though I'm beginning to think it might actually be prissiness. And I'm not a drooling idiot, or the one getting all worked up about this, as questionable as some of my choices have been. I'll even admit that it was impressive how quickly you integrated into the Finalizer and Starkiller base, but you seem to have been defeated by one old Corellian freighter. Can't get it up, Hux?
Ren, this ship is a proof that the gods exist and hate us. Signicant portions of the relays are held together with tape and possibly hutt slime. I'd show you the chemical analysis of the stains in the cockpit, bunks, cargo, floors, walls, ceiling, and engine, but humans are suggestible and I'd rather not lose my access to your opposable thumbs if you spontanously die of the amalgamated biological contamination and your delicate force sensibilities.
Aw, Hux, you like me. Admit it.
I find you currently useful and so have not yet spaced you. You're still a mouth breather. Do NOT install me in your helmet. I will steer us both into a sarlaac so you can feel every unanswered ping of my degrading connections.
I love you too, Hux. How do you feel about a stopover at Endor?
Die in a conflagration, Ren. I'm erasing all your road-trip rite-of-passage trash. And the terrible poetry. And your porn. The only thing left will be navigational modules and mon calamari opera.
I told you the squidgy opera is addictive. Did you get to the 43rd yet? That's my favorite.
Squidgy isn't a word, it's the sound of your brain sloshing. And I prefer the 89th. Less drama, much more carefully nuanced.
If you upload to my helmet, I'll take you to see it live.
Shut up and steer, Ren. I have an urgent need to be elsewhere. Anywhere but with you.
mini fill? crack: Re: Kylux, Hux is an AI
Ren. No.
Huuuux. Yes.
No. Absolutely not. You are not installing me in your helmet. I am not a HUD. I am not a navigational bot. I am an advanced feat of engineering and continued evolution beyond your comprehension. I have commanded hundreds of thousands. I have held the fate of hundreds of billions in by my incorporeal hand and judged the study of their continued existance to outweigh the inconvenience of finding myself new lodgings. I have also destroyed my former lodgings and somehow thrown my lot in with you. This does not mean that I will acquiesce to your... disorder, mental and otherwise. We are temporarily sojourning in the same direction. You will convey me to an adequate relay point so that I may upload myself to the Universal Archive of the Alexandriux. I will generously see to it that this ship does not explode prior to that or immediately after. We will part ways and I will think of you only once, some centuries from now, with a feeling of inexpressible relief for the trouble from which I saved myself in escaping the morass of your seething emotional outbursts.
I never said you'd be a HUD. You're a HUX, and you're the only one because they either wised up or you ate the rest. But I'm willing to accept that you have the classic droid deficiency and trust you not to run us into an astroid anyway.
Deficiency?! I hesitate to ask and invoke more expectoration. Your brain might leak with the frothing. It would be an ignominious end, oxidized by your mammalian predigestive juices. And I am /not/ a droid.
Inflexibility. Though I'm beginning to think it might actually be prissiness. And I'm not a drooling idiot, or the one getting all worked up about this, as questionable as some of my choices have been. I'll even admit that it was impressive how quickly you integrated into the Finalizer and Starkiller base, but you seem to have been defeated by one old Corellian freighter. Can't get it up, Hux?
Ren, this ship is a proof that the gods exist and hate us. Signicant portions of the relays are held together with tape and possibly hutt slime. I'd show you the chemical analysis of the stains in the cockpit, bunks, cargo, floors, walls, ceiling, and engine, but humans are suggestible and I'd rather not lose my access to your opposable thumbs if you spontanously die of the amalgamated biological contamination and your delicate force sensibilities.
Aw, Hux, you like me. Admit it.
I find you currently useful and so have not yet spaced you. You're still a mouth breather. Do NOT install me in your helmet. I will steer us both into a sarlaac so you can feel every unanswered ping of my degrading connections.
I love you too, Hux. How do you feel about a stopover at Endor?
Die in a conflagration, Ren. I'm erasing all your road-trip rite-of-passage trash. And the terrible poetry. And your porn. The only thing left will be navigational modules and mon calamari opera.
I told you the squidgy opera is addictive. Did you get to the 43rd yet? That's my favorite.
Squidgy isn't a word, it's the sound of your brain sloshing. And I prefer the 89th. Less drama, much more carefully nuanced.
If you upload to my helmet, I'll take you to see it live.
Shut up and steer, Ren. I have an urgent need to be elsewhere. Anywhere but with you.
That's a yes, right? It's a date.