Unfortunately, I'm unable to determine that. Interfacing with them is impossible. It might be safer to assume that they are because of their human-like qualities, but their advancement is in another direction than my own.
The youngest androids to be made in my universe were meant to portray a 9 year old. Infants weren't ever released.
I don't think it's aware of its surroundings the same as Aurora, Eos or myself. Even as an AI, its intelligence is fairly low. Not being able to interface with it proves that. Are you having trouble caring for it?
It isn't my responsibility. I just dislike it. It's loud, obnoxious, annoying. It demands attention, yet we do not know the purpose of its existence. I believe it may be implanted into our households to spy on us more closely.
It likely needs to be cared for the same way a human infant does, regardless of its purpose. It's possible that it's being used to monitor us, but doing anything to potentially harm it might draw attention to you.
[ the farm has become fair game for the children, but there are still some spots that are just willa's domain: her bedroom in the farmhouse, the garden, and a little shed where the sound of the mandolin is coming from. the shed is one of those cute ones with windows and shutters like a small duplicate of the farm house, looking just as gently dilapidated since they came into the house second hand. the open door reveals what looks to be a summer outdoor couch set up shoved against the back wall, willa perched on one corner, an all-weather rug on the floor, a small table that holds an electric kettle next to a steaming tea cup. a cute little goat with a pink ribbon around her neck is tied up to a nearby gate, laid on the grass and grazing in the most lazy fashion. ]
No, I asked Eos about it. My employees back home get breaks when the city isn't on fire, whether or not they're artificial doesn't fucking matter.
Anyways, talking about it turned into an offer to maintain shit when either of them want a break. Aurora doesn't think I can handle it on my own, and I'm inclined to believe her. You're probably the only other person around here who has the kind of processing power needed for this kind of thing, so I wanted to know if you'd be interested in helping.
It's your choice. I didn't mention you by name to either of them, so if you don't want to I'll find some other option.
[this is an interesting ask - but he needs more information.]
I wouldn't mind helping, but when I tried interfacing with the computer in the hospital's basement it caused a system overload. There was too much information for me to process, which is impressive. What kind of maintenance would Aurora expect of us?
[he's as punctual as he is specific, arriving in 8 minutes on the dot. he's been to the farm a handful of times, usually to pass time and watch the animals. he's found that he likes watching animals.
he says hello to the goat before coming inside.
the door is open, but he still knocks on it to alert Willa of his presence. he has no need for disguise, but his wardrobe is still prim and proper. a white button up with a tie, suit pants and his usual shoes. his jacket, which is his first identifier as an android, is left in his apartment. he hasn't seen a place looking so home-like as Willa's does now. he scans the area, scans her when he sees her.]
Hello, Willa. It's nice to see you again.
[he briefly looks down to the kettle to examine its properties before taking a few steps to sit himself on the couch. a little too straight, a little to perfect.]
[ she stops playing when he knocks, looking up. there isn't a clock in here and she doesn't wear a watch but she has definite suspicions that he is here exactly eight minutes after he said he would do just that. ]
Her name is Mena.
[ her mouth slants up in a half smile because it's a funny name within the broader context; it was so emmet could call willa and the goat at the same time: willamina. ]
[at the stop of her playing, his head tilts and he looks at her pointedly - like he doesn't understand why she's stopped. to converse, obviously, but it seems (feels) less important. he could track the notes, each string pluck and its vibrations. what he caught of the melody plays over again in his head.]
Mena's a nice name.
[and he doesn't care if she eats his tie. a bit more relaxed, he leans a little more into the couch and shifts to face her more, one leg crossing over the other.]
I liked what you were playing. I wouldn't say that you're bad at it. Maybe out of practice.
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