damned_institute | Night 46: Main Hallway, 1-West

He'd noticed the young woman as soon as it was clear she was headed in his direction; that part had been expected after all. What he hadn't anticipated was the reasonably large and dangerous weapon resting casually on her left hand. It was potentially more damaging than Grell's scalpels had been and his own makeshift weapons - a pipe and a small, slim blade - were no match when he had no experience with using them.

This may have been a bigger miscalculation than he thought, since even with there being other people in the area, a weapon like that could finish a fight before anyone had the chance to intervene. Assuming someone would.

While she was good enough to stop a distance away and make it clear she didn't mean any harm, Brainiac 5 made sure to keep an eye on the weapon regardless.

"Yes, I'm Brainiac 5," he answered, slightly distracted, though in all likelihood it wasn't necessary with the description he'd given. At the mention of a computer, his gaze lifted to meet her oddly unreadable one. "You have a computer that might work? I was considering going upstairs and looking over the machines in the laboratory or offices, but I haven't had the time recently..."

He trailed off, realising he'd been caught up in thinking about the possibilities presented by having a working computer and hadn't been keeping as close an eye on Renamon and her weapon. "...why were you interested in meeting me anyway?" he asked suspiciously.

A faint sense of amusement directed at herself filtered through her. The boy's eyes on the knuckle were obvious, and she considered if she should have hid it. It seemed more respectful to keep it in the open, and leaving it, while an option, wasn't preferable, especially after the snake. Renamon couldn't blame Brainiac 5. She had seen the random messages directed at him, and if that was public, she couldn't guess at what had happened in private. The Digimon remained still, trying for less of a threat.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Might," she answered carefully. "There's no reason it wouldn't, with a power source." She shrugged, the motion ill-fitting on her. "I had an associate who checked on the computers they have here. Most don't work at all, and the rare ones that do open to an old version with no information to gain. From what I have heard."

Be it that she did want him to look over Spot, especially if he could help, the need to clear up the suspicion was foremost a priority. Moving a bit slower than normal, she reached and slid the knuckle off with her other hand, then offered it to the boy. "Will you hold onto this for me?" Renamon didn't think he would attack her, and if he did choose to, she still had the hidden scalpels on her person, and was still confident in her own speed.

"Not to harm you, but words are seldom believed. You were speaking about how humans have a tendency to view computer-based lifeforms as lower, or even not real, comparatively." To gain some kind of trust, she would have to skip a few steps in the process--she had assumed they would be speaking in a more secluded area. Regardless. "I was interested because I've experienced the same."

'With a power source'? Hmm, it was more of a hurdle than he'd been expecting, but it wasn't completely insurmountable. Not to mention if the computers were as Renamon described - and he shuddered to think what an 'old version' would be like - then it was all the more reason to get this one working. He had to wonder what she had in mind about power sources, however, since what he remembered of twenty-first Earth technology was severely limited and--

Renamon reached for her weapon and he instinctively tensed up, several parts of his mind working to rapidly calculate the nearest route to safety, their respective estimated top speeds, and several other small details. But her movements were slow and she was clearly not trying to startle him (which was good as his calculations didn't suggest a very good outcome if she did decide to attack for whatever reason), so he forced himself to relax and just watch for the moment.

Brainiac 5 blinked in obvious surprise, eyeing Renamon doubtfully when she then offered him the weapon, but accepted. He wasn't exactly sure what she was trying to do, but it was no doubt obvious with how he handled it that he had no experience with using anything similar and wasn't quite sure what to do with it.

He looked up from studying the weapon when she spoke again, and his face coloured slightly. ...oh. She'd noticed his nervousness, which was why she'd given him her weapon. He'd been hoping it wasn't that noticeable. Still there wasn't anything he could do about it now.

"Yes," he agreed, returning his attention to the strange weapon. "Even in my own time it's something of a difficult matter to deal with. Inorganic lifeforms can be difficult to distinguish from, well, machines, and it can lead to misunderstandings. Among less pleasant things."

His gaze flicked up to her momentarily. "But I imagine you already know that?"

His reaction was moderately pleasing--at least a part of him seemed to relax with the visible threat in his own hands. If only other things were as simple to place together as the logic of threat and reaction. The Digimon watched him fiddle with the knuckle for a moment, then returned her gaze to his face.

"I already know that," she agreed, nodding. "Inorganics, as you say, don't resembles machines in my worlds," Unless they were specifically a machinoid Digimon, but she digressed, "But the ones formed from data have a great deal of prejudice stacked against them."

For a moment, Renamon wondered how it had become simple to speak like this, when weeks ago she would have done anything but. Not deny herself, no, but in turn, not give away anything that she was. And now she was here, speaking words once taboo. Was it apathy? Or acceptance? "I'd be defined as a computer program, and as such, many say that I am not alive."

"Ah, I forgot that there'd be some differences in technology levels, my apologies," Brainiac 5 said after a moment of confusion. "In my time it's common and accepted that machines can take the general form of humans, if not a near perfect appearance. It makes things complicated a lot of the time, since people tend to have different standards of what qualifies as life or not..."

Generally people were far more accepting of something that at least superficially resembled them than not, at least in his experiences. However Renamon's explanation about being a creation of data, a computer program, and the reaction that received was much easier to empathise with.

"Normally I'm Coluan," he began, though it felt a little strange to talk about this even in only vague details with a stranger. "It's not so easy to explain here and not many people really understand my species in my own time since we're rather... isolated. But it can be simply put as I'm physically mostly technology. Cybernetics and nanotechnology for the most part. And my mind is comprised of complicated programs, many of which I built myself over time. My data can be backed up onto disc, uploaded into different sources..." Altered by other programs. "...sometimes people forget that you can still be a person even with all of that."

He looked up from toying with the weapon and managed a small smile. "But knowing there are people who don't think that way makes things easier."

She nodded in agreement to the technology levels. However... "A little more different, I'm afraid. The majority of my kind looks nothing like humans. Each and every one of us--Digimon--look entirely different, and some didn't retain a single form at all."

The name 'Coluan' was placed into memory, along with the unfamiliar explanation. Again, she nodded to what he said. "We, too, were composed of created programs, and eventually we evolved past what our creators set out to do, altering our programing and forming our own upgrades as we saw fit." To simplify. "Our original world is raw data, so the majority of Digimon are... shifting programs." Unstable data. "And others--humans--continued to see us as just that, even when we crossed over to their world. Merely something to alter and delete."

This was said without bitterness. Renamon was too detached from it at the moment to carry any heat in her voice. And it already felt so long ago. Rika's initial reaction, other Digimon's views, even the back-up programs created to expel all digital life. Something shifted behind her eyes, unreadable.

Brainiac 5's smile spoke more than his words. She returned it without thinking, the expression surprisingly light. "It does," she agreed. "It's difficult for some people to understand that all life is life, no matter your origins." Including herself. Perhaps especially. But that wasn't something she would so willingly share. Data and life were equal, and she had learned that. Even so.... "It's good to find those who don't simply consider you a weapon or a toy."

Each and every one of them had looked different? Brainiac 5 tried to imagine what Colu would have been like if that were the case, and failed. It was too difficult to imagine his people as anything but nearly identical drones that looked like they'd been manufactured in thousands of neat factories. He had to wonder if maybe there'd been a fraction of the variety Renamon implied, he might not have left Colu at all.

But by the sound of it, that wasn't the only thing that was different between their species. When Renamon had said her people - the Digimon - were formed of data, he'd assumed she'd meant something like the multitude of programs that made up his own mind and personality, housed in a similar physical form. But from her choice of words...

"What do you mean, 'crossed over into their world'?" he asked carefully. It was possible she just meant the programs and data had been downloaded into a physical body, but if it was something else entirely, that would be something new and inherently interesting.

But while some aspects were startlingly different, others were too similar for his liking. "Yes," he said quietly. "No one wants to be considered a..." He hesitated. "...tool to be used. No matter what your origins are."

The question he asked was both simple and complex. Renamon opted for the easiest explanation. "We found or created doorways between the worlds, and once there composed our data into solid form."

Accurate and true, both. Still.... Her eyes were drawn to Brainiac 5's countenance. Yes. That was the hint she had noticed before. There was something horrible in being used as a tool or weapon, something still horrible in the slight comfort one took from finding another that had been through a like experience. Renamon agreed with his words, her eyes showing her consensus. But she also knew that that could not be something that they should dwell on. She tilted her head, looking him over once. "Might I wonder," she started. "What your form is like as well?"

That didn't really explain anything, but Brainiac 5 decided against pushing for further information. Renamon had good reason to be suspicious, especially in a place like this.

Which left the other topic of conversation; another neither of them seemed particularly comfortable with. Brainiac 5 had a reasonable idea that he was hardly the only one to have had... difficult experiences in that area, so he was both understanding and relieved when Renamon directed the conversation elsewhere.

"I don't mind explaining that, no," he said, glancing down at himself. "Actually, I don't look much different than I do now, other than the fact I'm created from cybernetics. I'm still humanoid and my face and external features are the same.

"Well," he amended, "except for the eyes. Mine are normally somewhat larger, with a different structure." One that gave him a greater range of information. "Otherwise people would also notice I'm, like all Coluans, green-skinned, but that otherwise the resemblance ends there."

He trailed off and sighed. "It's not the easy to explain to someone else, really." Looking back at Renamon, he continued, a note of curiosity seeping into his voice. "And yourself?"

Interesting. Like the rest that she had learned, it was placed in memory, along with a growing curiosity leading back to the question of different worlds. Her nature was of an intellectual, and learning had long since become habit. Yet the growing want to tangent into that came to a halt at her slip. Ah. Yes. If she asked him, then he was sure to ask hers. This was a surety.

And why should she not, at this point? Both to Nigredo and Nataku she had admitted her form--why not add another? This was a sardonic thought, and Renamon wondered what had been so different about this day. Other than the fact that she had had it pointed out to her that she was on the verge of giving up--

"An anthropomorphic fox," the Digimon replied blandly. "But we shift between forms, so that is not a constant."

"Really?" Brainiac 5 asked in surprise. "That's interesting... But if you can shapeshift, then you wouldn't necessarily always look like that, correct?"

He wasn't sure what reaction Renamon had been expecting, to be honest, but what she had gotten was simple curiosity. Feeling he should elaborate further, Brainiac 5 continued. "One of my teammates is Durlan; his entire species can change shape at will. It's a useful ability, even if he does seem to use it more for pranks sometimes."

He smiled slightly. "As you can probably guess, I'm used to things that are a very different from what most people here seem to consider normal."

She returned the smile. "It's my main form. It's necessary at will for us--there's certain conditions that have to be met, but it is useful." Renamon spared a glance down the hallway. They should probably start moving. The Digimon glanced back at Brainiac 5. "And that's refreshing."

She took a step forward, continuing to speak as she did. "I'm used to multiple worlds. And that seems startling to most. So I can relate." She paused for a beat. "The computer is in my room. Would you accompany me there?"

For a moment, Brainiac 5 hesitated, not sure even now if it was a good idea to trust Renamon. But... She had given him her weapon, and she was clearly trying to be friendly and not make him do anything he wasn't comfortable with. All because Grell had pretended to be the same didn't mean everyone would.

"Alright," he decided, nodding his head once. "Which way is it?"

Good. He had decided to follow her. She nodded, bowing her head briefly in acknowledgment, and moved, throwing back, "This way."

[and hall skipping to here!]

Night 46: Main Hallway, 1-West

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