neutronium95
Mad Rocketeer
- Location
- The launch pad
I wasn't expecting to see Emu War in Space today, but it's nice to see.
Lieutenant Fusilier in The Farthest Reaches
- Thread starter open_sketch
- Start date
- Original Mature
- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
Sometimes they find cool ancient technologies and stuff, and then absolutely!
Vebyast
Nascent Transhuman
Why would Dora have missed it? Invitation extended before she bought her commission?
Hah, Dora absolutely needs to tell her squad about that. "Now, remember, if I buy the farm, one of you gets to take over from me. Better do a good job!"
Wait, they're starting with volley fire? o_o Man, their dedication to The Aesthetic is astounding. Volley fire means you can't tell which shots are yours and which are due to everyone else. Very surprised they didn't start the new recruits off with some individual target shooting.
edit: Hmm. Feature request: Laser muskets with different colors so you can tell which are your hits and which are your buddy's. Like the way battleships fire shells with dye packs in them.
WANT WANT WANT WANT
I grew up in Seattle and then moved to fucking Atlanta for college. Place is a hellhole. 90F and 90% humidity. Absolutely awful. Every year in March I went online and surveyed the options for personal air conditioning. They keep coming down in price and mass but the off-the-shelf options still aren't quite small enough to carry around in a backpack. Bah.
w a s t e d
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- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
The invitation was announced at dinner in the officer's mess. This is just how Dora heard of it.
- Location
- United Kingdom
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Hm
So, she's going
And Diana's going
And Diana took a date last time
(A lady date!)
And isn't taking a date this time I assume
Hm
Curious
So, she's going
And Diana's going
And Diana took a date last time
(A lady date!)
And isn't taking a date this time I assume
Hm
Curious
Vocalist
Verdant Maiden in Violet
- Location
- By a Cedar Tree
This "Buy your way up the ranks" thing is still weirding me out. Did England actually do this?
It essentially ensures that only the independently wealthy aristocracy can afford to get to the higher ranks, which is not as bad as it sounds because here everyone is independently wealthy aristocracy. No one ever bothered designing the system to accommodate people who aren't fabulously wealthy, because everyone is fabulously wealthy. And this means that people like Beckham find themselves in the frying pan when they suddenly loose access to their gold vaults.
- Location
- Derna
Yep! That earlier joke about how Dora didn't get her commission on merit, she bought it like a good officer was spot on. Infantry and cavalry officers bought their commissions, while engineers or artillery officers (who received professional training and were promoted on merit/seniority) were looked down on as common.
Limiting the officer corps to the wealthy aristocrats was the original goal, IRL. It means (in theory) less looting and pillaging, less rabble-rousing Roundheads in the army getting funny ideas and killing the king, and kept officers in line through the threat of cashiering (your commission was one of the most valuable things you owned, your primary retirement plan, so having it stripped from you would be a disaster.) Plus, it meant you don't have to talk to commoners every day.
Generally, commissions went up for sale when officers died of relatively natural causes or retired. Deaths in combat were usually non-purchase vacancies that were replaced by appointment and couldn't be (immediately) resold, so the system would sorta collapse into a conventional merit system in times of war.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I adore Dora's dry delivery. I guess it's natural, you don't want any moisture to short out the circuits, but she's exceptional at it.
(Also thanks for the reminder that I need to practice my sleeping more)
Their guns were or weren't properly calibrated?
Also, I love the priorities. First you make sure you can work as part of the formation without messing everything up for everyone, then you can stand and deliver a proper volley and by that point you've probably got a feel for not making critical mistakes and following orders and it's time for making the most of your individual firepower. It's like how human militaries are fitness clubs that go shooting a lot.
(Also thanks for the reminder that I need to practice my sleeping more)
Their guns were or weren't properly calibrated?
Also, I love the priorities. First you make sure you can work as part of the formation without messing everything up for everyone, then you can stand and deliver a proper volley and by that point you've probably got a feel for not making critical mistakes and following orders and it's time for making the most of your individual firepower. It's like how human militaries are fitness clubs that go shooting a lot.
Vebyast
Nascent Transhuman
It occurs to me that there might be a sort of psuedo-criminal robot underworld for jobs that be done to keep society running but are too sensitive to be left to the humans and take too much flexibility, planning, double-think, and perspective to be handled by the average robot. Like, Maria at one point had to cover up an affair for one of her officers; if nobody on the staff had had the necessary skills, or if they hadn't been willing to do it, you'd have needed a way to get hold of someone to Take Care Of It. Or if you need something smuggled, or to stow away a kid whose parents are too stick-in-the-mud to let them go Adventuring, or to arrange a "chance encounter" with someone important who can help...
- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
Typo fixy.
Also yeah. Physical training isn't a large aspect of the machine's Thing (they probably still do some, but its about building the equivilent of muscle memory and acting under stress, not for raw fitness obviously), so I'm trying to show how the training they do at base is like this weird hollistic thing for officers, NCOs, and enlisted alike. Thanks to their cool hologram projectors, they're able to simulate a battlefield and opposing forces, allowing them to train and test everyone at once at whatever scale they want, from individuals learning to fight one on one to any unit that will fit on the giant field in the middle of the base.
One thing I'm sorta trying to hint at that I want to build on is that though the battles have the aesthetic of a napoleonic era one, I imagine it happens over a larger area, with smaller, more independent units. Hence the platoon-scale sections, officers having radio-hats, organic fire support, that sort of thing. Again, part of the anachronisms, I'm kinda trying to split the difference between Sharpe and Starship Troopers. Let's see if I can pull that off in a battle at some point.
Vebyast
Nascent Transhuman
Are spec-ops a thing, or are Invaders not organized enough for precision to be relevant?
It'd be hilarious for these napoleonic stand-and-deliver types to run into the, like, three robots in the entirety of the british empire that the army keeps around in case some Invader base needs to be very carefully sabotaged by robots that're able to spend a month wearing ghillie suits and crawling around in mud. They'd be the saltiest robots ever - they have to exist so the humans don't get wiped by an outside context problem, but there's only like a 5% chance that they'll literally ever get to shoot at a bad guy.
A lot of specialists that need to be kept around to deal with black swan events would end up pretty weird, now that I think about it.
It'd be hilarious for these napoleonic stand-and-deliver types to run into the, like, three robots in the entirety of the british empire that the army keeps around in case some Invader base needs to be very carefully sabotaged by robots that're able to spend a month wearing ghillie suits and crawling around in mud. They'd be the saltiest robots ever - they have to exist so the humans don't get wiped by an outside context problem, but there's only like a 5% chance that they'll literally ever get to shoot at a bad guy.
A lot of specialists that need to be kept around to deal with black swan events would end up pretty weird, now that I think about it.
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- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
I mentioned in passing that skirmishers use stealth fields as a rifle on the greenjacket riflemen thing.
Vebyast
Nascent Transhuman
Ah, oops. And I suppose they'd also be the types to do demo and sigint and stuff. That makes sense!
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
...If you only knew...
Well played, Theodora. Well played.
Poor Dora's internal clock.
- Location
- Academy City
- Pronouns
- They
Eeeh, another Sketch work. I can't believe I didn't see this sooner. And it's so cute, aaaaaah.
Ahem, rebooting.
(Also, I believe this should be midst).
Indeed.
Ahem, rebooting.
Way to bring down the mood.
Ouch. I mean, it doesn't seem like Theodora has much room to talk here, considering how she spent her time off, but still. I suppose that our protagonist is well qualified to diagnose it.
So, this is going to be a thing, huh? I look forward to these oversized alien warmachines. Or perhaps mech suits, or just altered biology?
Okay, it's definitely a thing. In what way, idk, but I see this foreshadowing and I am paying attention.
#Mood. I love big guns and i cannot lie, one of the most relatable things all story.
I resemble that comment.
Every group needs a straight man. Well, in this case Theodora is neither, and doubly so for the latter, but I'm not quite enough of a weeb to unironically use tsukkomi in an english sentence, so instead my inadequacy of vocabulary is on display for all to see.
(Also, I believe this should be midst).
What if she... were to go with you... aha ha, just kidding.. unless..?"
Ah yes, how fun. Hopefully she at least has something - or someone - to hold her attention.
Adjusts Monocle.
Indeed.
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
And they're losing.
Fuckin' genius. Although it sounds like commissions have resale value and can be traded in, so, uh.
As noted below, this is probably because the real point is to get the troops accustomed to fighting in formation. Not necessarily fighting effectively, fighting at all.
Alternatively, the Theos and Doras come with sufficiently sophisticated machine learning software that they can, at least subconsciously, tell where their shots are landing and learn from the process.
@open_sketch consider this.
Not because hit what you're aiming at.
Well yes because hit what you're aiming at.
But more important reason.
Much more important.
RAINBOW VOLLIES from the Thin Red Line of roboheroes.
CAREBEARSTARE the enemy into oblivion.
Yes. Yes they did.
Yes. Yes it does.
Yes. That was the point. Commissions in the cavalry and infantry were sold for exactly that reason (the Royal Artillery, notably, promoted on merit, as did the Navy).
...
The British historically abandoned the system as a bloody stupid idea gradually, especially after the Crimean War. Which was made much worse than it had to be by the incompetence of the British Army's officer corps, whose ranks consisted largely of rich idiots on the one hand, and senile Napoleonic War veterans on the other.
...
A few non-completely-stupid rationales for the system did exist:
1) It can be seen as a holdover from the medieval and early Early Modern custom of the titled aristocracy participating in war directly and raising their own troops, thus reducing the financial burden of the war effort on the Crown. Given that the government's taxation powers were rather limited, this could be significant.
2) It theoretically ensured that officers would generally be independently wealthy, reducing the incentive to indulge in financial corruption, or to loot or pillage. Not that the rich aren't corrupt or aren't capable of being thieves, but they aren't forced to be corrupt to feed starving children back home.
3) It meant that retired army officers had an immediate source of ready cash to finance their re-entry into civilian life.
Soldier gallows humor is gallows humor.
It's sarcasm. The troops are so inaccurate that they'll be missing the target most of the time, unless they happen to be fighting a race of giants.
But you have a point that it's sarcasm that can double as foreshadowing, like "we're flying, what are we going to run into, a cloud stuffed with rocks," followed by "WHAM" and running into a monolith being levitated through a cloud bank by a druid.
- Location
- Someone else's head
This was a seriously good line.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Regarding purchasing commissions, the US is doing something similarly nuts but considerably less aristocratic in the 1800s. It'll probably be pretty familiar to Master and Commander readers, in that promotions are handled pretty much entirely on a strict basis of seniority. So if you want to attain really high ranks, they're quite limited and you'd better hope you aren't alive at a time when there's too many relics treating the job as a sinecure. Winfield Scott retired at 75, making it long enough to wait his career out is hardly a guarantee, and it's going to be a long time since you've been in the field.
I'd expect it to be pretty much a straight shot from raising a regiment with your own money, where the process of raising the regiment has been formalized and taken care of but the officer still provides money. Funding is a big deal, the development of finance through the Early Modern period is almost 1:1 to the problem of somehow funding the armies they have in the field.
Well this is a departure from the early modern!
Back then you basically raised a regiment so you could skim payment and stack huge money when you sacked a town.
It also provides a means of disciplining officers that'd really sting. They've put their money where their mouth is, and there's serious incentive not to make enough of a mess that they get stripped of the rank they're counting on to finance their retirement. In practice this is cold comfort when it's already too late.
I'd expect it to be pretty much a straight shot from raising a regiment with your own money, where the process of raising the regiment has been formalized and taken care of but the officer still provides money. Funding is a big deal, the development of finance through the Early Modern period is almost 1:1 to the problem of somehow funding the armies they have in the field.
Well this is a departure from the early modern!
Back then you basically raised a regiment so you could skim payment and stack huge money when you sacked a town.It also provides a means of disciplining officers that'd really sting. They've put their money where their mouth is, and there's serious incentive not to make enough of a mess that they get stripped of the rank they're counting on to finance their retirement. In practice this is cold comfort when it's already too late.
Chapter 9 - Understanding Humans
- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
"Welcome home, miss." Miriam said, taking my hat and weapons to hang up. "How did things go today?"
"Is covering up a murder one of the duties you can perform?" I asked wearily, pacing down the hall. She followed with a little tap tap tap of footsteps, thus proving she, in fact, did something to not make sound when she wanted to.
"I'd have to know the details of the crime." she said, still chipper as ever as I leaned against the table in my useless dining room. "But perhaps. What's got you in the murdering mood?"
"Senior Sergeant Theda. The Prussian I told you about. She's on a quest to find exactly what counts as insubordination and park her ass right there on the edge." I said, staring up at the ceiling and only just noticing the intricate floral patterns in the tiles. "The Theos and Doras basically do their utmost to pretend I don't exist, and she enables it."
"Such as?" she asked.
"Well, she's apparently reading the regulations ahead of me, because, for example, turns out the rule is that a salute is required when they 'recognize the presence' of an officer within six paces, so long as they aren't doing manual work. So she's told the Theos and Doras, and now a lot of them always just happen to be facing away as I pass." I explained, pushing myself back to standing and pacing about the room. There were a lot of strange devices in the kitchen for the cook to use, none of which I understood whatsoever, but they sure were interesting to look at.
"So they have plausible deniability, and it means if you want to be treated with the basic respect of your office, you have to insist on it every time." she summarized. "Have you called her out?"
"Yes, I pulled her aside during marksmanship training, told her I wouldn't tolerate it. She pretended not to know what I was talking about, but said we could put the Theos and Doras through remedial training on saluting. Which would very much not endear me to the troops, nor address the root issue."
"And you can't write her up… why, exactly?" she asked. I shrugged off my jacket and she took it without comment, folding it respectfully over her arm.
"Well, it's disrespectful they're doing it on purpose, but soldier's not noticing you to salute is thing that happens sometimes. If I wrote her up, it'd be very easy to spin it as me making mountains out of molehills." I explained, "And that's basically her goal. Make me miserable enough to quit, or prompt me to bring it up in official channels on shaky ground where the Theos and Doras, or the other officers, will see it not as a sergeant being insubordinate, but as me being, you know, jumped up, entitled, glitched..."
"Hmm. Alright, I understand your murderous impulses, miss. Name a time and place, I'll bring the shovel." she said wryly. "Do you have anyone on your side?"
"Old Theo's solid, but the quartermachine's realm of authority is mostly in gear, not discipline. And Ensign Kelly's aide likes me, but that's the yank, nobody gives a shit about him. And… I don't know what's up with Beckham. I think he both sympathizes with me and finds it funny."
"Yeah, I don't imagine he'll be much help. I thought you said Captain Murray liked you?"
"Yes, but I don't know… honestly, I don't know why." I said, "You know, when I would talk about my plans among the Theos and Doras, they'd make it sound like the humans would hate having a machine among their ranks. But they mostly seem either supportive, amused, or just confused."
Miriam looked askew at me, and I shrugged helplessly.
"I don't understand humans, I guess."
"Well, I do." Miriam said, "And you must remember that nearly every human family has the same story about climbing from misery, right? And when they did the world didn't collapse into malthusian chaos like they expected. So when they see machines out of place, they often don't see a disruption to the order of things. They just see themselves."
I considered that a moment, thinking of the book I'd finished yesterday. The great grandmother's stories of the textile mills and poorhouses and public hangings told to wide-eyed children who could never imagine a world so cruel.
"And we're worried the mirage will fall apart if anything is out of place." I summarized.
Miriam shrugged, and I pushed myself away and started down the hall toward the study. Not because there was any reason the study was better for this conversation, but because if they were going to give me this massive complex to live in, I was going to make an attempt to use it.
"That's the thing, isn't it? She's not doing it just to be cruel, though it sounds like she very much is being cruel. She sees you as a danger, an existential threat to… all this. So… prove her wrong?" Miriam offered, keeping pace behind me.
"Sure, I'll just do that." I said, sitting down in one of the overstuffed chairs in the study. It creaked a bit disconcertingly, probably not exactly designed for an armoured war machine to sit in. Miriam vanished a moment to put away my coat someplace (presumably disappearing into the catacombs of the estate I was sure existed), and returned a moment later.
"Speaking of out of place… I heard you have an invitation to a ball." she said.
"How'd you..? that's your job, right. I do." I admitted. "I very much do."
"And you have no idea what it's going to be like." she summarized.
"Actually, I've got a decent idea." I said, "There's an honour guard from the 7th there every year, consisting of the most decorated and disciplined Theos and Dora in the regiment."
"So that's been you every year, huh?"
"For a decade or so. I thought they'd finally seen the resentment in my eyes, but I realized recently that it's more likely they'd seen the wear and tear." I said. "So I know the basics. There's the mixer where names are announced, then they go off to dinner and I stop the privates from hitting on the house staff in their absence. After that, we go back to the ballroom, everyone dances with everyone else for a while, and then there's usually some work convincing the more enthusiastic guests to get some sleep before they embarrass themselves."
"You've more or less nailed it, yes. The mixer, we simply must get you looking your best and you must try not to break any major social convention, which I think you can manage. The dinner… will be awkward, but you'll survive."
"And I should have no trouble with dancing if I just stand to the side and act like a statue, right?" I said, and Miriam winced. "Oh?"
"... remember that thing about humans seeing themselves in us?" she said.
"My stars, you don't think one of them would ask me to dance, do you?" I said, feeling utterly mortified. "They wouldn't!"
"They very well might, if you're alone. The whole thing is that if you're there and single, you're eligible. That's the implication. There are some unwise young men who'd do it, and there's just no good answers in that situation."
"I would think no would bloody well-, oh, wait. I understand." I said. Humans did stupid shit sometimes, stuff that would ruin their reputation, especially once they had a few drinks in them after dinner. A good machine avoids enabling them as much as possible. "Yes, let's avoid that. So I slip out before the dance. Nobody will notice."
"You're going to be a guest of some curiosity. They'll notice."
"Alright… a ruse, then. Have me called back to base for something, make up a reason why I must leave. Stage an emergency?" I offered. I had no idea what such an emergency could be that would specifically just call away a lieutenant of 9th Company, though.
Miriam just looked at me disappointed.
"There is another option." she said, "Take a date. The invitation has a plus one, after all."
"... Let's go back to the fake emergency idea. Trust me, it would be easier." I said, wincing.
"Come now, we'll find you a nice machine. I know some wonderful boys who'd love- hmmm." I was shaking my head rather desperately. "Is it the date part or the boy part?" she asked, sighing.
"The boy part." I said.
"Well, to each their own I suppose, more for me. If you really can't stand the idea, I do have a few friends who very much indulge that particular inclination, I'm sure one of them will be game. What's your budget?"
"I beg your pardon?" I said, not entirely sure what she was insinuating, but not liking it anyway.
"Letters to my sapphically-inclined friends aren't free, and they'll need a dress suitable for the event. Moreover, we're going to have to get you fixed up at least a little if you're going to be presentable."
"I currently have five pounds, eleven shillings, and eight pence to my name." I said. My total pay in the 29 days since I'd purchased my commission.
"Oh. We will have to get creative then." she said cheerfully.
"Is covering up a murder one of the duties you can perform?" I asked wearily, pacing down the hall. She followed with a little tap tap tap of footsteps, thus proving she, in fact, did something to not make sound when she wanted to.
"I'd have to know the details of the crime." she said, still chipper as ever as I leaned against the table in my useless dining room. "But perhaps. What's got you in the murdering mood?"
"Senior Sergeant Theda. The Prussian I told you about. She's on a quest to find exactly what counts as insubordination and park her ass right there on the edge." I said, staring up at the ceiling and only just noticing the intricate floral patterns in the tiles. "The Theos and Doras basically do their utmost to pretend I don't exist, and she enables it."
"Such as?" she asked.
"Well, she's apparently reading the regulations ahead of me, because, for example, turns out the rule is that a salute is required when they 'recognize the presence' of an officer within six paces, so long as they aren't doing manual work. So she's told the Theos and Doras, and now a lot of them always just happen to be facing away as I pass." I explained, pushing myself back to standing and pacing about the room. There were a lot of strange devices in the kitchen for the cook to use, none of which I understood whatsoever, but they sure were interesting to look at.
"So they have plausible deniability, and it means if you want to be treated with the basic respect of your office, you have to insist on it every time." she summarized. "Have you called her out?"
"Yes, I pulled her aside during marksmanship training, told her I wouldn't tolerate it. She pretended not to know what I was talking about, but said we could put the Theos and Doras through remedial training on saluting. Which would very much not endear me to the troops, nor address the root issue."
"And you can't write her up… why, exactly?" she asked. I shrugged off my jacket and she took it without comment, folding it respectfully over her arm.
"Well, it's disrespectful they're doing it on purpose, but soldier's not noticing you to salute is thing that happens sometimes. If I wrote her up, it'd be very easy to spin it as me making mountains out of molehills." I explained, "And that's basically her goal. Make me miserable enough to quit, or prompt me to bring it up in official channels on shaky ground where the Theos and Doras, or the other officers, will see it not as a sergeant being insubordinate, but as me being, you know, jumped up, entitled, glitched..."
"Hmm. Alright, I understand your murderous impulses, miss. Name a time and place, I'll bring the shovel." she said wryly. "Do you have anyone on your side?"
"Old Theo's solid, but the quartermachine's realm of authority is mostly in gear, not discipline. And Ensign Kelly's aide likes me, but that's the yank, nobody gives a shit about him. And… I don't know what's up with Beckham. I think he both sympathizes with me and finds it funny."
"Yeah, I don't imagine he'll be much help. I thought you said Captain Murray liked you?"
"Yes, but I don't know… honestly, I don't know why." I said, "You know, when I would talk about my plans among the Theos and Doras, they'd make it sound like the humans would hate having a machine among their ranks. But they mostly seem either supportive, amused, or just confused."
Miriam looked askew at me, and I shrugged helplessly.
"I don't understand humans, I guess."
"Well, I do." Miriam said, "And you must remember that nearly every human family has the same story about climbing from misery, right? And when they did the world didn't collapse into malthusian chaos like they expected. So when they see machines out of place, they often don't see a disruption to the order of things. They just see themselves."
I considered that a moment, thinking of the book I'd finished yesterday. The great grandmother's stories of the textile mills and poorhouses and public hangings told to wide-eyed children who could never imagine a world so cruel.
"And we're worried the mirage will fall apart if anything is out of place." I summarized.
Miriam shrugged, and I pushed myself away and started down the hall toward the study. Not because there was any reason the study was better for this conversation, but because if they were going to give me this massive complex to live in, I was going to make an attempt to use it.
"That's the thing, isn't it? She's not doing it just to be cruel, though it sounds like she very much is being cruel. She sees you as a danger, an existential threat to… all this. So… prove her wrong?" Miriam offered, keeping pace behind me.
"Sure, I'll just do that." I said, sitting down in one of the overstuffed chairs in the study. It creaked a bit disconcertingly, probably not exactly designed for an armoured war machine to sit in. Miriam vanished a moment to put away my coat someplace (presumably disappearing into the catacombs of the estate I was sure existed), and returned a moment later.
"Speaking of out of place… I heard you have an invitation to a ball." she said.
"How'd you..? that's your job, right. I do." I admitted. "I very much do."
"And you have no idea what it's going to be like." she summarized.
"Actually, I've got a decent idea." I said, "There's an honour guard from the 7th there every year, consisting of the most decorated and disciplined Theos and Dora in the regiment."
"So that's been you every year, huh?"
"For a decade or so. I thought they'd finally seen the resentment in my eyes, but I realized recently that it's more likely they'd seen the wear and tear." I said. "So I know the basics. There's the mixer where names are announced, then they go off to dinner and I stop the privates from hitting on the house staff in their absence. After that, we go back to the ballroom, everyone dances with everyone else for a while, and then there's usually some work convincing the more enthusiastic guests to get some sleep before they embarrass themselves."
"You've more or less nailed it, yes. The mixer, we simply must get you looking your best and you must try not to break any major social convention, which I think you can manage. The dinner… will be awkward, but you'll survive."
"And I should have no trouble with dancing if I just stand to the side and act like a statue, right?" I said, and Miriam winced. "Oh?"
"... remember that thing about humans seeing themselves in us?" she said.
"My stars, you don't think one of them would ask me to dance, do you?" I said, feeling utterly mortified. "They wouldn't!"
"They very well might, if you're alone. The whole thing is that if you're there and single, you're eligible. That's the implication. There are some unwise young men who'd do it, and there's just no good answers in that situation."
"I would think no would bloody well-, oh, wait. I understand." I said. Humans did stupid shit sometimes, stuff that would ruin their reputation, especially once they had a few drinks in them after dinner. A good machine avoids enabling them as much as possible. "Yes, let's avoid that. So I slip out before the dance. Nobody will notice."
"You're going to be a guest of some curiosity. They'll notice."
"Alright… a ruse, then. Have me called back to base for something, make up a reason why I must leave. Stage an emergency?" I offered. I had no idea what such an emergency could be that would specifically just call away a lieutenant of 9th Company, though.
Miriam just looked at me disappointed.
"There is another option." she said, "Take a date. The invitation has a plus one, after all."
"... Let's go back to the fake emergency idea. Trust me, it would be easier." I said, wincing.
"Come now, we'll find you a nice machine. I know some wonderful boys who'd love- hmmm." I was shaking my head rather desperately. "Is it the date part or the boy part?" she asked, sighing.
"The boy part." I said.
"Well, to each their own I suppose, more for me. If you really can't stand the idea, I do have a few friends who very much indulge that particular inclination, I'm sure one of them will be game. What's your budget?"
"I beg your pardon?" I said, not entirely sure what she was insinuating, but not liking it anyway.
"Letters to my sapphically-inclined friends aren't free, and they'll need a dress suitable for the event. Moreover, we're going to have to get you fixed up at least a little if you're going to be presentable."
"I currently have five pounds, eleven shillings, and eight pence to my name." I said. My total pay in the 29 days since I'd purchased my commission.
"Oh. We will have to get creative then." she said cheerfully.
- Location
- Academy City
- Pronouns
- They
Normal assistants look the other way. Good assistants help you hide the body. Great assistants help you check if you can get away with it.
This kind of optimistic science fiction... it warms my heart.
Ouch. Just enough details to have a specific idea of what she'd dislike about attending as a guest
...Yes. We might ask out a robot if we weren't thinking clearly. And under no other circumstances whatsoever.
The lady talks sense.
The power dynamics here are enough to make any less platonic relationship somewhat sketchy, and yet, I still feel as though there's not enough gay. Ah well, I'll have to content myself with a gay main character in a Fully Automated Luxury Gay Space Aristocracy, doing gay things. Alas, however shall I cope.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
This pleases my gay heart...
DANCE DANCE DANCE DANCE!
DANCE DANCE DANCE DANCE!
Vebyast
Nascent Transhuman
Miriam is a gift, precisely what Dora needed. She's sharp, she's creative, she's unflappably positive, and she apparently has quite a bit of experience as a fixer. Like, her rolodex has a section marked "refined escorts for robot ladies"! Do we know how old she is? I could easily see the endless depths of her contact book becoming a running joke. "I need a feather boa, a snorkel, two stuffed giraffes, and a first-generation Johnson with his original left leg." "Ah, I'll call three-twenty-three, he should be on-planet this time of year."
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