Title: …Therefore I Am
Summary: Prowl is human, Jazz is… not. And Prowl thinks that it should probably be the other way around.
Notes: A would-be Transformers/Ghost in the Shell fusion. Part 1 of 2.
xXxXxXxXxXx
Prowl carefully ignored the carelessly muffled whispers and rude stares of two of his coworkers as Jazz gave a discontent growl, as though in his ear. It was something that he had gotten used to. Whispers, stares, and Jazz's inevitable snarls in response. The door shut silently behind him, blocking the both of them from sight, and Prowl let out an equally silent sigh.
"Frag it, Prowl. I just can't stand how you let those wastes of space do that, day, after day, after day… Ever since you were outed as a cyborg they just stare at you like something they'd see in a zoo. It's not right."
Prowl's eyes narrowed lightly, as though guarding themselves against the sudden glare of headlights, even though his optical input compensated immediately. Though his mouth didn't move, he replied with a dull, "It is pointless to show a reaction, or protest, Jazz."
Jazz was silent for a long moment, "I just wish… I could get them to stop, since you won't do anything."
"Not possible," Prowl replied, a tinge of something mournful in those unvoiced words.
Jazz let a long sigh wash over the both of them, "I know, I know. It still sucks though."
"I would be… pleased," Prowl replied, "if you were able to do so, though I would still request that you refrain. My statement as to the pointlessness still stands, but I would be, glad."
"Heh," Jazz let out a breath of a laugh, "Thanks, Prowl. You don't know how much that means to me."
Prowl's mouth tightened slightly. "…I'm sure I do not, Jazz." He looked up at the night sky, dark clouds and the light pollution of the city blocking out all but the brightest of stars. "I am sure I do not," he repeated out loud, voice drowned out by the wail of sirens, the splash of tires in puddles, and purr of vehicles, the clamor of the millions of voices that resided in the city.
Jazz was more human that he was, Prowl reflected as the door opened behind him and he was nearly knocked over.
Neither of them apologized and the other man simply went on his way. Prowl straightened his coat and slid his hands into his pockets. He felt the lightest of sprinkles against his cheek, but Prowl didn't care.
It was going to rain again.
It was ironic, but Prowl would be the first to admit that the AI was more human than the human who owned the "artificial" intelligence. By the same token that named Jazz as an artificial thing would never allow him to be a person by law.
After all, "Every aspect of learning or any other feature of intelligence can be so precisely described that a machine can be made to simulate it."
To the ones who believed that… Jazz was nothing more than a fancy bit of programming, whose inputs and outputs gave him a mere facsimile of life, a simulation of being.
He didn't give a damn about the Chinese room argument. To him, it was the same as the argument surrounding the existence of the human soul. Did they have one? Did they comprehend? Did they understand?
…or were they simply so much meat?
Prowl wasn't sure about either. Nor did he care. Maybe he had a soul. Maybe he didn't. Maybe Jazz didn't understand anything, and simply functioned by the order of inputs and outputs. Maybe he understood. Maybe Jazz was the one with a soul and humans were meat puppets.
Maybe…
"…Prowl? You okay?"
Prowl's lips quirked slightly, "I'm fine."
What did it matter?
Maybe they were all nothing but the dream of some higher being. How could they know?
The answer was simple: they couldn't, not beyond the tenuous strands of faith.
Prowl strolled down the street, letting Jazz stream music through his head and chatter about this and that.
When the rain began pouring down, the aloof smile on his face stayed firmly in place as he walked down the emptying streets, all the color drained from the landscape and buildings gray looming.
xXxXxXxXxXx
Jazz murmured a quiet goodnight to his owner as he settled down for sleep. Prowl was pushing it again, Jazz though unhappily. It wasn't healthy to get so little down time. For all that Prowl's body was completely artificial on down to his brain case, the man wasn't an inexhaustible machine, no matter how much he liked to pretend he was.
His coworkers, Jazz thought with disgust, took greedy advantage of Prowl's willingness to work till he was blind and further. It was sickening, but it was familiar.
Prowl expected the kind of treatment he was being faced with.
Jazz crooned a quiet melody to his owner, knowing that it relaxed him even though his conscious mind was absent.
He just had to wait a little longer and Jazz would stop their callous abuse of Prowl's abilities.
"Just a little while longer," Jazz murmured, "then I'll take care of it. I'll take care of everything." He imagined running fingers through Prowl's short white hair and wondered what it might feel like.
After a long moment, Jazz quietly withdrew and ventured out into the 'net. There were things that he had to keep a metaphorical eye on if he wanted everything to go smoothly.
He didn't want to cause trouble for Prowl, and that is what would happen if he didn't do this right.
Jazz felt a worrisome feeling at leaving Prowl without a word. He didn't want to, but it was necessary.
He would just have to make sure he got back before Prowl woke up. He wouldn't forgive himself if he was the one to cause Prowl distress, but he also couldn't afford to hurry.
It was a dilemma that he would be glad to be done with, Jazz knew.
Massive amounts of information in the form of templates, heuristics, sensory data, interpretive programming poured through him as he did the final checks. It was so close to being done, Jazz's thought form quivered with nervous anticipation but he held himself back.
Just a little longer, Jazz told himself.
Just a little longer…