#6
The next day, in contrast to most previous days, Arthur actually had something he had to do which wasn’t ticking off a list or overseeing other people doing other things. He himself had to physically clamber down into a hole that the ponies had dug to physically fiddle around with some of the equipment that ATC had helped set down there.
Honestly, he was happy to have something to occupy himself.
With the top part of his boilersuit unzipped and its sleeves tied about his waist he squatted in the hole, poking and prodding and fiddling. The device he was squatting over was proving recalcitrant in a way that was presenting no immediately obvious solutions. Which is to say it was not working, but why it wasn’t working was unclear.
It was such a puzzle that Arthur had had ATC dismiss the ponies for the day, seeing as how it wasn’t much use them just standing around waiting for him if he had no idea how long he was going to take. That had left just ATC’s various bodies stood around and Arthur, squatting and sweating.
He’d been at it for hours now and was so engrossed that the sound of voices just above the lip of the hole barely registered.
“He’s where?” Said one voice, the owner of which was obviously Baker’s Dozen.
“In the hole,” said the other, being ATC.
“Why’s he in the hole?”
“He’s doing his job. In the hole.”
“Oh. Should I not interrupt him?”
“He’s been doing his job - in the hole - for a long time now. I was about to tell him he was required to have a break, actually, so you showed up in the nick of time.”
“I did?”
“You did indeed. Go stick your head in the hole or over the hole or somewhere near the hole and tell him he needs to have a break as per regulations. He’ll love it.”
“What? Me violating his hole or him having to take a break?”
“Heh, I like you. Guess you’ll find out.”
A few seconds later a shadow fell across Arthur, but he just thought it was a cloud.
“Hey,” said a pleasant voice from above but he was too deeply engaged to really notice, mouthing to himself instead and frowning at something exposed and complicated. He stared at it a little more, sighed, and then closed the hatch and leant back, mopping his brow.
And when he looked up he found Baker’s Dozen there. That made him jump.
“Ah!” He said, flinching and flattening against the side of the hole.
“Sorry!”
“No, no, it’s fine. Miles away. Hello,” he said, squinting up.
There was something rather striking in having her stood there, peering down at him, haloed by the sun. He wasn’t sure what to say. Baker’s Dozen didn’t seem sure either, nudging the lip of the hole with a hoof for a moment or two.
“It’s kind of neat being the one who has to look down for a change,” she said.
“Uh...yes,” Arthur said, still not sure what to say.
“Too intimidated to speak?” Baker’s Dozen asked, standing up straighter and striking what, for a pony, probably passed as an imposing stance. The height and the lighting helped, but it was still more cute than daunting.
“Terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought,” Arthur said. It got a giggle out of her, which made Arthur feel better and so he stood up. This still left him the shorter of the two right then, even if only by a few inches now.
“Your, um, metal friend says you need to take a break,” Barker’s Dozen said, gesturing behind her to the nearest one of ATC’s bodies.
The body in question was standing well-within eavesdropping range and doing a very poor job of looking casual, having hooked its thumbs into some part of its frame (mounting brackets, Arthur assumed), rocking on its heels and also whistling while pretending to watch birds.
“Did it?” Arthur asked, and Baker’s Dozen nodded.
Arthur waved the body over, not buying ATC’s mock-surprise for a moment.
“You wanted something?” ATC asked once it had mosied on over.
“I need to take a break?”
“Can’t really speak to whether you need to, but you’ve been working long enough that you should,” ATC said.
“Is this a regulation or another guideline?” Arthur asked.
“Can’t exactly force you to take a break, though really you should have one. That said you’re the boss, Arthur, you can do what you like. Just saying, break wouldn’t hurt.”
Arthur gestured back down into his hole. Baker’s Dozen watched from the sidelines without a shred of comprehension.
“I need to sort this out. If I don’t we might lose a day,” Arthur said.
“We’re already ahead of schedule,” ATC pointed out.
“I’d like to keep it like that. Already ate my lunch down here anyway.”
ATC shrugged, folding.
“If you’re sure, Arthur. You’re the boss,” it said.
The body wandered off again, further away this time. Not out of earshot (it had pretty powerful ears) but far enough that it was a less intrusive presence than it had been. Arthur returned his attention to Baker’s Dozen.
“Busy day?” She asked, having kind of got the drift of the conversation. Arthur nodded.
“Unfortunately. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Better luck tomorrow, I guess?” She said, doing a fine job hiding her disappointment, turning and going. Arthur watched her for maybe a second, swallowed, and then was seized some strange force that just seemed to grab him by the scruff of the neck and compel him to pipe up:
“Hey,” he said, going for breezy and casual and confident and coming out more like he was coughing. Still got her attention though. Ears pricked, she turned, looking at him expectantly.
Whatever mysterious energy had driven him to speak promptly evaporated, leaving him fumbling for what to say next.
“Um…” he said, rooted to the spot and blank in the head. “Um. Would you - I’ll probably finish in, uh, a few hours. Would you...you know…maybe like to...food...after…?”
With every word he could almost feel those big, big eyes of hers on him driving his ability to speak further and further out of his reach.
“Are you asking me out to dinner?” She asked, tail swishing. Arthur swallowed.
“Um. Uh. Just f-for food. After.”
“I’d love to!”
She was beaming, and Arthur found himself smiling too, if only out of sheer nervous relief.
“Good. I mean, ah, thank you. I can come to you, uh, after...or…”
There were numerous holes in this plan he was desperately weaving as he went along, and it was unravelling almost as fast as it was coming together. Fortunately, Baker’s Dozen stepped in:
“Well, I might finish before you or you might finish before me, so how about we meet somewhere first? I know a place - do you have something I could write with?”
He did, and proffered a marker he carried around for special occasions.
“Fhanks,” she said around a mouthful of pen, reaching out with a hoof to take his wrist and pull his hand within scribbling range so she could quickly write out the name of wherever it was she had in mind on the back of it. Arthur let this happen.
Given that she’d written using her mouth, her penmanship (penponyship?) was remarkably clear.
“Sorry, did you need that hand?” She asked, fumbling to put the cap back on the pen and only now thinking that maybe she should have asked before doing what she’d just done.
“No. Well, yes. It’s just that your writing is very good,” Arthur said. He hadn’t minded.
“Thanks,” she said again, not quite so muffled this time, handing him the pen back. He took it, then remembered that it had been in her mouth. It was kind of hard not to notice this. “Sorry,” Baker’s Dozen said sheepishly.
“It’s okay,” Arthur said, wiping the pen off and tucking it away again. Worse things had happened, and he’d had to wipe worse fluids off of things in the past.
A pause.
“Well. I’ll see you later then? Do you know where that is?” Baker’s Dozen asked, nodding to his hand. Arthur looked down briefly. He had no idea where anything in Canterlot was, obviously, but this was hardly an obstacle.
“I can find it,” he said.
“Good, cool, great. Well...see you later, then!” Baker’s Dozen repeated, smiling ear-to-ear, giving a waving and trotting gaily off. Arthur watched her until she’d disappeared around a corner, somewhat dumbfounded. Once she was out of sight he looked back at his hand again.
ATC took the opportunity to sidle over once more.
“Smooth moves there, Arthur,” it said.
Arthur continued standing in his hole, silent and shellshocked, staring at what she’d written, for a few seconds longer before finally blinking and turning to ATC.
“That was the scariest thing I’ve ever done,” he said.
“Didn’t you have to dig yourself out of a collapsed building once?” ATC asked, even though it knew the answer. The answer was yes.
“Yes,” said Arthur.
Had ATC’s body possessed eyes in the conventional sense it would have used them then to look at Arthur sideways. In the event, it just leaned away from him a little bit.
“Well I guess everyone’s different. Still! Good for you, Arthur!” It said, reaching down to gingerly give Arthur a pat on the back. Arthur was standing utterly rigid now, staring intently into middle-distance. This ATC noticed. “You alright there?” It asked.
“I have no idea what to do,” said Arthur.
“What, in life or…?”
“Meeting with her, later. I have no idea what to do. About any of it.”
“Food is involved so I’d assume that going somewhere that sells food would be a start, then you go there, buy food, eat food together, talk and that’s probably about the long and the short of it,” ATC said, not wanting to come off too condescending but really not sure how else to break down the concept of just having some food with someone.
Arthur was nodding to himself again.
“I can find somewhere. Buying food, can do that. Talking. That’ll be difficult. How do I do that?”
Even an operationally-limited Governing Intelligence like ATC (which wasn’t really intended for a whole lot beyond helping out Arthur and Corin) knew enough about humans and interpersonal interaction to be a veritable font of useful information. Not that ATC felt comfortable about this.
“Governing Intelligence’s aren’t really in the business of giving out romantic advi-” it started to say, only for it to have picked quite the wrong word and so have Arthur cutting in:
“Not romantic, not romantic,” he said quickly, maybe a touch too quickly. He coughed and carried on so it didn’t seem a big deal. “I mean, maybe. Maybe? I don’t know. Just - just how to talk to someone. Normally. You know? So they don’t think you’re, uh - so they want to keep talking to you.”
Hard to tell with Arthur, but ATC could see that he was plainly bricking it with nervousness. But then ATC could read (and was reading, constantly, along with Corin’s) Arthur’s biometrics, so that was kind of cheating, really.
“I’m going to be completely honest with you here, Arthur, but while I’ve got reams of ‘information’ on this I can tell you from experience that experience is mainly what you’re going to have to be relying on. Which in your case is going to have to be experience that you’re gaining as you’re going. Talk, let her talk back, listen to what she says and then say something in response that’s related that you think she might enjoy hearing, just let it go where it goes,” ATC said, gesticulating vaguely. Arthur blinked at it.
“That doesn’t help me,” he said.
“Hey look, if nothing else she’s the one who keeps coming back to see you, so there’s that. Clearly she wants to spend time with you, so just don’t worry about it, try to relax and concentrate on making sure that the both of you have a nice time.”
“I’m just worried I’ll do something wrong. She’s really nice. I don’t know why she’s so nice but she’s really nice. Corin says they’re all like that - are they all like that?” Arthur asked.
“The locals are alright. They’re not human, but they’re alright,” ATC said, shrugging, scratching its head even though it had absolutely no need to do this. Arthur found the answer rather strange.
“Does them not being human matter?” He asked. He’d rather got over it himself, but he’d also never really seen them not being human as an obstacle to them being nice. He’d never given it a lot of thought, true, but what little thought he’d given it hadn’t seen it as an issue.
ATC shrugged again.
“To you? Depends on you. To me? Yes. But I’m me and you’re you, so you do you,” it said.
“...okay.”
“And in this instance it’s a particular kind of nice focussed wholly on you. So, like I said, try not to worry so much. Just listen, talk, listen. And don’t overthink things. Have fun. You’ll be fine, Arthur. This will be good for you. You’ll be fulfilling the mandate of the expedition.”
He did keep forgetting that, probably because he’d spent so much of the expedition avoiding anyone it was possible for him to avoid, human or otherwise.
But if he thought about it that way - that by doing this he was basically just acting in accordance with the standing orders and overall purpose of the expedition - Arthur found it easier, weirdly, and far less gut-twisting than he did when he thought he was simply doing it because it was something he wanted to do. Because he did want to do it..
He didn’t dwell on the why of any of that.
“Alright. Okay,” he said instead, squatting down again and getting back to work, doing his best to concentrate and his best also not to think about what might happen later.
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Oh, she's real smooth. And lovely, clever and sweet is a rare combination, quite precious really.
ATC is a little off, even for a Governing Intelligence, which are basically military AIs who'd watched War Games and agreed with WOPR that the only winning move was not to play.
10184326
They're a touch more than that. But only a touch.
ATC is limited anyway...
Woohoo! He did it!
Woof.
10219665
Keeping it in.
10219667
That's a little ruff.
10219681
It's all mutt ado about nothing.
One of them is an unfeeling machine incapable of truly understanding human emotion, the other one is an AI.
Together they fight crime! And get dates apparently.
On a (minimally) more serious note, I really like ATC. Let's was fine but seemed to delight a bit took much in projecting a "creepy/ominous AI" vibe for my taste. I get the impression that it was Let's personal flavor of humor, but it pulled it off way too well for me to be overly comfortable with it.
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The way I thought about it - as far as I can be said to have thought about any of this - the 'bigger' the computer, the rather more sinister they get, as the more things they have to worry about. ATC gets, like, one big wheeled thingy and two humans to look after, Let's had a whacking great dimensional-boring THING packed with hundreds of people and oodles of gear and had also, you know, probably done some unpleasant things on the way down when required. Removing obstacles, making the hostile non-hostile, etcetera. Or so I think I implied.
Not that I've thought about it. They're all different, really...
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