[Leaving the mess hall, Ogata may have noticed Threepio was still out of commission when Black Shadows led him away, but it should probably come as no surprise that not long after, the noisy locomotion of Threepio's bustling steps approach the doorless isolation cabin.
Sure enough, the bot himself soon appears in the doorway, shuffling immediately over towards Ogata.]
How terrible! How very terrible. I came as soon as I heard, sir. How suspicion should fall upon you is far beyond me.
[He can't help but laugh, really, that of course, C-3PO is C-3PO dpesite everything that happened. That he thinks Ogata being confused of murder is unreasonable. He could correct him, that it makes perfect sense. He's unpleasant. He's a killer. Killing people is effectively his job.
But instead he just sits back, on the floor, leaning against the side of the cot.]
Someone managed to get your head reattached to your body, I see. [Hello, you silly robot. Also, for some reason, Ogata's voice is very quiet? Like a whisper.]
I do not believe there's a universal constant to determine such a thing, sir. Bad things can be done for good reasons, or against one's will, or with full belief they are the right thing. Not to mention that "good" and "bad" can vary between cultures and viewpoints.
Whatever the case may be, I don't believe any such quality is set or permanent. That's the defining trait of organic life: the capacity for change. So perhaps an unwillingness to change would make one bad?
[a beat and he waves a hand]
Such things aren't really for me to judge, however. I am only able to act on a programmed set of protocols—a type of morality which has been decided for me to suit someone else's purposes.
[Well, protocols or no, that's a fairly profound answer. He mulls it over for a moment. The defining trait for organic life, huh. Maybe he really is just unwilling to change rather than unable. On the other hand, what does a droid know about being human?
Still, if he wasn't visibly made of metal, and made frequent reference to it, would Ogata have really known C-3PO wasn't just a particularly polite and obsequious human? It's hard to say.]
... I suppose it's just beyond me why you have so much faith in my character. I'm not above murdering someone and lying about it. I don't blame any of them for suspecting me.
Perhaps unlike some others here, I have spent a good deal of time around all manner of soldiers and fighters of various causes. I've seen heroic deeds from rougher characters than yours, sir. If you'll pardon my saying so.
War seems to have a profound effect on people, after all. One that civilians can have a hard time understanding, I've found. Communicating between those parties has been part of my function for several years.
[a small break in his pontificating as he looks outside the door]
[What Ogata gets out of that is that C-3PO simly has dealt with a lot of bastards and his standards are incredibly low... he still thinks he's a bit optimistic. Ogata has never done anything heroic.]
Probably. [The most honest answer he's given, so far.]
I think regardless of who it is and what I do, I'll end up dead sooner rather than later. So I might as well fight.
[Ah. He does perk up, and he does pick it up and pull it through the bars.That said;]
Even if they did let me use it, it's not loaded. I used all the bullets I had on the island. [Which really begs the question as to why he's been carrying it around this whole time.]
... But it is nice to have something familiar with me, I suppose. And I can threaten anyone else who comes in here to bother me. [He has had so many visitors.]
Would you prefer to be alone for your remaining time until tomorrow's [a beat] combat, sir? I'd be happy to stay at the door.
Thanks to the directors, I was able to get a power cable and fully recharge, so I no longer need to shut down at night to conserve energy. [Ogata probably doesn't understand why, but he taps the circular port on his stomach]
[Yeah he doesn't fully understand the stuff about power cables or whatever but he gets a general concept and the specifics aren't important.]
That would be nice. Just in case anyone decides to forgo the execution and murder me in my sleep. [It's a joke, really. Not that 3PO will probably catch it.]
... I want to ask you one more thing first, though.
[He....maybe gets it's a joke? He tilts his head a bit at the remark, but has had enough interaction with Ogata recently to sort of calibrate to his wry sarcasm.]
[After a little bit of observing both the cameras and their fellow dead, Ogata thinks he's picked up on what fresh hell they're being visited with this week. And he vows once again to avoid the others, though at least it seems to require touch.
But then he spots 3PO, and he gets curious. Sure, the robot seems worried a lot. But... he's not human, is he? He can't actually have human emotions. Can he?
So he sneaks up behind the robot and slaps a hand on 3PO's back. What's up, you weird metal man?]
[On contact, what Ogata receives is...well not emotion exactly but more like information. And a lot of it.
In a rush, a deluge of ever-changing calculations about the environment, situation, and Threepio's own internal systems slam into Ogata's consciousness like the arrival of a downpour of rain. These feelings, in as much as they could be called such, at first don't seem to line up with any human emotion Ogata's ever felt, but as far as he can understand are more like numerical equations seeking to reach solutions for input variables and figures. Input, output. Input, output. Over and over again. Thousands of times in the space of a single breath.
If Ogata focuses, though, if he stares through the whirling storm of incomprehensible data and lines of code that make up Threepio's inner self, he'll eventually see that there is a pattern. In each flash of resolved mathematics there's a small piece of something, and as these thousands upon thousands of flashes zip through they begin to feel almost like an emotion. Like a picture formed of millions of tiny dots of ink on a canvas. However, in the same way a painting of a tree is not a tree, the emotion that emerges from this chaotic process is only representative; Threepio's interpretation of the real thing. Ogata can tell what it is, but he does not feel anything.
The whole process has probably taken half a second in reality. Threepio starts and turns towards Ogata.]
Oh, Master Ogata! I had been hoping to find you here.
[He is not alright! This is a man who didn't even know what a computer was. This would be overwhelming even for the people that did. 3PO will get, in whatever way he's receiving these effects, Ogata's abject, instinctive terror at the unknown sensation, before he wrenches his hand away, looking shell shocked, eyes wide.
He can't even compose himself for a solid few seconds, as he normally would. Act like nothing happened. But then he blinks, settles, smoothes his hair back. Everything is fine!!!]
... I'm fine. [Surely 3PO won't question his obvious lie.]
[Having little idea of what the source of this weird, foreign spark of terror he received was, his system automatically cordons it off for analysis, which runs in the background as he frets over the clearly distressed Ogata. With programming solely dedicated to recognizing and responding to human emotion, expression, and body language, there's actually little that passes his notice.
That, of course, doesn't stop him from drawing the absolutely wrong conclusion though lol.]
I'm terribly sorry, sir. Did you perhaps receive an electrical shock? It's possible, however unlikely, that some interior wiring has come loose.
[haha that's okay he's used to getting yelled at :')]
I suppose that would make sense, although I continue to find it curious how such things affect me as well. At your touch, I was aware of the presence of human emotions in a different way than how I usually perceive them. [viscerally instead of as raw data]
If I may ask: what did you feel from me? Given my inorganic nature.
[He frowns at the prospect of trying to explain it.]
I don't know. It was... It wasn't exactly like an emotion. It sort of felt like one but it was made up of so many.... tiny pieces... of information? I don't know how you can stand something like that. [He was completely overwhelmed.]
How fascinating, although I do apologize if it caused you any distress, sir. It's rare—or rather, entirely unheard of—for such connections between droids and humans.
I shall have to analyze what I experienced further. [a pause while he considers] Would you be comfortable were I to attempt a physical connection again?
[It's his instinct to say no. Even more so given how overwhelming the first contact was.
But he's also proud and stubborn, so saying no would make it seem like he's afraid. Uncomfortable. Those are lame emotions to feel. He's not afraid. He's never afraid!!!!]
Go ahead. I don't care. [It's like he's forgotten this shit goes both ways.]
[Threepio looks carefully at his face for a moment, but weighs out his desire not to cause emotional distress to Ogata with his own curiosity—and also the chance of offending his pride by worrying about him openly.
He takes a moment to see if he can adjust his own sensory inputs and emotion-simulating processes. Based on Ogata's description of what he felt from Threepio, he thinks he can probably suspend them to spare any overwhelming sensations.
Then, he reaches out a hand and places it down on Ogata's shoulder, the motion smooth and the contact incredibly light.]
[Ogata is more nervous than he appears! Nervous and uncomfortable. Afraid of that overload of data again. But he refuses to react outwardly. He is so stubborn.
And also, if 3PO really focuses, delves deep, he'll get this... deep abiding sense from Ogata. It's hard to really describe with one word. Something restless, discontent, unhappy. Deeply unhappy and lonely. He just lives like this.
Meanwhile, Ogata is just bracing himself for the input he's going to get from C-3PO, standing there, tense, eyes closed.]
But Threepio is too polite a droid to give any vocal indication that what he feels from Ogata is as dismal as it is familiar; it's like standing on a rainy beach after having only seen the ocean in movies. So this is the sort of real human emotion upon which his own were modeled. He takes his time (what constitutes taking time for a system that operates at lightning speed) picking apart the different aspects of these feelings and comparing them to his own records of experiences, seeing how they should actually feel.
What Ogata feels in response is...different. Were he familiar with the Bible, he might liken it to the parting of the Red Sea. All the same torrents of ever-changing computations are still there, but they've been parted to create a space of empty calm where the reconstructed emotions once were. It seems Threepio has adjusted something in hopes that it won't overwhelm Ogata.
What does come through—in a more restrained and orderly way than before but just as alien and artificial—is a feeling of understanding, not quite like compassion but maybe more an attentive concern. Threepio's prior feelings of worry and stress remain somewhere ever-present in the background.
He removes his hand, and gives a small bow of his head.]
Thank you, sir. I hope that wasn't too distressing an experience.
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Week 1, Saturday, Post-Trial
Sure enough, the bot himself soon appears in the doorway, shuffling immediately over towards Ogata.]
How terrible! How very terrible. I came as soon as I heard, sir. How suspicion should fall upon you is far beyond me.
[He seems Very Upset on Ogata's behalf]
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But instead he just sits back, on the floor, leaning against the side of the cot.]
Someone managed to get your head reattached to your body, I see.
[Hello, you silly robot. Also, for some reason, Ogata's voice is very quiet? Like a whisper.]
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Yes, you can be certain I would have protested a good deal had I been functioning. I didn't doubt you at all, sir.
It's unfortunate that others may have been influenced by personal feelings—and even after you made a concerted effort to be cordial!
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It wasn’t by choice. Someone used their power on me that made me unable to be rude.
[He looks at 3PO for a long moment. Well, no reason to not ask what he’s been wondering about, now;]
What do you think makes someone a bad person?
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I do not believe there's a universal constant to determine such a thing, sir. Bad things can be done for good reasons, or against one's will, or with full belief they are the right thing. Not to mention that "good" and "bad" can vary between cultures and viewpoints.
Whatever the case may be, I don't believe any such quality is set or permanent. That's the defining trait of organic life: the capacity for change. So perhaps an unwillingness to change would make one bad?
[a beat and he waves a hand]
Such things aren't really for me to judge, however. I am only able to act on a programmed set of protocols—a type of morality which has been decided for me to suit someone else's purposes.
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Still, if he wasn't visibly made of metal, and made frequent reference to it, would Ogata have really known C-3PO wasn't just a particularly polite and obsequious human? It's hard to say.]
... I suppose it's just beyond me why you have so much faith in my character. I'm not above murdering someone and lying about it. I don't blame any of them for suspecting me.
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War seems to have a profound effect on people, after all. One that civilians can have a hard time understanding, I've found. Communicating between those parties has been part of my function for several years.
[a small break in his pontificating as he looks outside the door]
Do you intend to fight tomorrow, sir?
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Probably.
[The most honest answer he's given, so far.]
I think regardless of who it is and what I do, I'll end up dead sooner rather than later. So I might as well fight.
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[He briefly walks out the door, then comes back in. He's holding Ogata's rifle (which is probably a bit strange to see??).]
I imagine you won't be allowed to use it, but it seemed important to you. I thought it may bring you some comfort.
[He sets it down, leaning against the bars.]
3PO.... IS SO GOOD
Even if they did let me use it, it's not loaded. I used all the bullets I had on the island.
[Which really begs the question as to why he's been carrying it around this whole time.]
... But it is nice to have something familiar with me, I suppose. And I can threaten anyone else who comes in here to bother me.
[He has had so many visitors.]
he help
Thanks to the directors, I was able to get a power cable and fully recharge, so I no longer need to shut down at night to conserve energy. [Ogata probably doesn't understand why, but he taps the circular port on his stomach]
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That would be nice. Just in case anyone decides to forgo the execution and murder me in my sleep.
[It's a joke, really. Not that 3PO will probably catch it.]
... I want to ask you one more thing first, though.
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Of course, sir. I will answer as best I can.
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nooo this is too sad
everybody gets sad Ogata content this is my promise from the GY
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week 4 - tuesday
But then he spots 3PO, and he gets curious. Sure, the robot seems worried a lot. But... he's not human, is he? He can't actually have human emotions. Can he?
So he sneaks up behind the robot and slaps a hand on 3PO's back. What's up, you weird metal man?]
haha enjoy cat man
In a rush, a deluge of ever-changing calculations about the environment, situation, and Threepio's own internal systems slam into Ogata's consciousness like the arrival of a downpour of rain. These feelings, in as much as they could be called such, at first don't seem to line up with any human emotion Ogata's ever felt, but as far as he can understand are more like numerical equations seeking to reach solutions for input variables and figures. Input, output. Input, output. Over and over again. Thousands of times in the space of a single breath.
If Ogata focuses, though, if he stares through the whirling storm of incomprehensible data and lines of code that make up Threepio's inner self, he'll eventually see that there is a pattern. In each flash of resolved mathematics there's a small piece of something, and as these thousands upon thousands of flashes zip through they begin to feel almost like an emotion. Like a picture formed of millions of tiny dots of ink on a canvas. However, in the same way a painting of a tree is not a tree, the emotion that emerges from this chaotic process is only representative; Threepio's interpretation of the real thing. Ogata can tell what it is, but he does not feel anything.
The whole process has probably taken half a second in reality. Threepio starts and turns towards Ogata.]
Oh, Master Ogata! I had been hoping to find you here.
...are you alright, sir?
iki this is amazing
He can't even compose himself for a solid few seconds, as he normally would. Act like nothing happened. But then he blinks, settles, smoothes his hair back. Everything is fine!!!]
... I'm fine.
[Surely 3PO won't question his obvious lie.]
:)
That, of course, doesn't stop him from drawing the absolutely wrong conclusion though lol.]
I'm terribly sorry, sir. Did you perhaps receive an electrical shock? It's possible, however unlikely, that some interior wiring has come loose.
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[Ah, he yelled. Now he's smoothing his hair back, composing himself.]
... Didn't you feel it when I touched you? It's probably another one of those weird effects.
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I suppose that would make sense, although I continue to find it curious how such things affect me as well. At your touch, I was aware of the presence of human emotions in a different way than how I usually perceive them. [viscerally instead of as raw data]
If I may ask: what did you feel from me? Given my inorganic nature.
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I don't know. It was... It wasn't exactly like an emotion. It sort of felt like one but it was made up of so many.... tiny pieces... of information? I don't know how you can stand something like that.
[He was completely overwhelmed.]
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I shall have to analyze what I experienced further. [a pause while he considers] Would you be comfortable were I to attempt a physical connection again?
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But he's also proud and stubborn, so saying no would make it seem like he's afraid. Uncomfortable. Those are lame emotions to feel. He's not afraid. He's never afraid!!!!]
Go ahead. I don't care.
[It's like he's forgotten this shit goes both ways.]
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He takes a moment to see if he can adjust his own sensory inputs and emotion-simulating processes. Based on Ogata's description of what he felt from Threepio, he thinks he can probably suspend them to spare any overwhelming sensations.
Then, he reaches out a hand and places it down on Ogata's shoulder, the motion smooth and the contact incredibly light.]
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And also, if 3PO really focuses, delves deep, he'll get this... deep abiding sense from Ogata. It's hard to really describe with one word. Something restless, discontent, unhappy. Deeply unhappy and lonely. He just lives like this.
Meanwhile, Ogata is just bracing himself for the input he's going to get from C-3PO, standing there, tense, eyes closed.]
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But Threepio is too polite a droid to give any vocal indication that what he feels from Ogata is as dismal as it is familiar; it's like standing on a rainy beach after having only seen the ocean in movies. So this is the sort of real human emotion upon which his own were modeled. He takes his time (what constitutes taking time for a system that operates at lightning speed) picking apart the different aspects of these feelings and comparing them to his own records of experiences, seeing how they should actually feel.
What Ogata feels in response is...different. Were he familiar with the Bible, he might liken it to the parting of the Red Sea. All the same torrents of ever-changing computations are still there, but they've been parted to create a space of empty calm where the reconstructed emotions once were. It seems Threepio has adjusted something in hopes that it won't overwhelm Ogata.
What does come through—in a more restrained and orderly way than before but just as alien and artificial—is a feeling of understanding, not quite like compassion but maybe more an attentive concern. Threepio's prior feelings of worry and stress remain somewhere ever-present in the background.
He removes his hand, and gives a small bow of his head.]
Thank you, sir. I hope that wasn't too distressing an experience.
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