A football-sized white orb zipped across the grounds of the Collection, past people, and trees, and statues, and buildings, even over a lake. On a mission, the ultimate goal could be no farther than a distance of five miles from any given point, and hover functions cut the hassle of pointless terraformed reservoirs and ground obstacles away. He was terribly convenient, really.
Finally finding the correct building, it butted its way inside, past a frustratingly heavy manually operated door. He'd be following his orders to the letter... and apparently possibly having to suffer minor external damage was part of doing so. Making the closest thing to an indignant huff that he could, the sphere floated farther into the rustic establishment.
The White Rabbit was still settling in on its new foundation- power wasn't connected yet, making it dim and dull, the only source of light other than the windows being the scarlet eyes of a certain Kadeptian, darting about and looking things over, checking for broken items- which there were a lot of. His scowl was evident just by how the shape of the light changed.
"You know, when Irving said he was sending someone to help with security and renovations, this really wasn't what I had in mind," he snarked.
If a robot could cough, Joseph just did. "You'll find I am perfectly capable of aiding in both, as well as taking inventory and simple electrical work. I am Joseph- a robotic porter, and Braxiatel and Bernice's digital assistant, connected to the Collection booking systems."
Jack shrugged and his eyes dimmed, seeming incredibly unimpressed- that sort of thing was a bit outdated where he was from, after all. "What, so you talk about the weather, sync watches, and tell useless trivia? If you were planning on entering a pub quiz, it's just a bit early for that," he snarked, putting down a glass and waving his hands like those were the most impressive things in the world. Still adjusting to everything, a small robot was not his idea of good company and he'd make that known.
If his smile wasn't painted on, that would've certainly caused Joseph to frown. He gave a resigned, simulated sigh, crackling in the speaker.
"...Yes. Though, you'll find that's not nearly all of my faculties. I can do this... " He demonstrated what exactly 'this' was, projecting a light that engulfed the room, making an intricate web of green framework lines appear over every shape and form, scanning the area. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone. "I've just made a detailed 3-D map of the White Rabbit's main room, for the purposes of the minor remodel."
Joseph hovered closer to Jack, whose eyes had widened and flared in response to that.
The man only shrugged. "Alright, not bad. I'll admit when I'm wrong... sometimes. But I'll find you perfectly capable if you can help turn the power on. "
"Indeed. That is a top priority."
The porter floated around, searching for the breaker box. Getting to the basement through the back room, and avoiding all the trouble that came with stairs, it wasn't long before Joseph located it and scanned for where the wires would lead to. Popping back up to the main floor, he flew back out through the door and found where the connections were, and where they'd need to be rebuilt.
It wasn't long before the lights flickered on, illuminating the windows and bathing the inside of the pub in a warm yellow glow. Coming back into the Rabbit, the white ball returned to Jack to await hopefully not being told off for seeming insignificant again. Despite the fact that unbeknownst to him, Jack was easily annoyed by technology that talked back.
Seeing him float back inside the room with the power returned, had crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, but was secretly decently impressed. While pretty darn good with tech, (in his own opinion, at least)- that was certainly a bit out of the man's wheelhouse. "Fine. You're perfectly capable of helping out. What other alternative roles are you for? Porters can't usually do that."
"I also record extracts for Bernice and catalogue the Collection booking systems, with connection to a trans-temporal communications network," the drone nodded, making another lively orbit around the Kadeptian and causing his head to spin round.
He raised an angular eyebrow. "That's how they called us then..." then paused, processing the other part of what he meant, "...What kind of extracts?"
"Primarily- her holovid diary," Joseph stated.
Jack rubbed his hands together and made a wicked grin. This was going to be good.
"Come over here, will you?" he beckoned.
Joseph floated yet closer to Jack, aiming to please. Before he could react, the sphere got snatched from the air and held tightly between his two hands like a ball. As the force that drove it tried to propel itself away, it only got gripped harder. Managing to find the panel that opened Joseph, Jack pulled a retractable cable out from his hand and stuck it in one of the drone's internal ports.
In response to this, Joseph went into standby, freezing in the air at the spot he'd been grabbed.
Jack chuckled to himself, eyes rolling playfully along. "Ah, porters. So complex, yet so simple."
There was a nasally 'hmph' made by the vocal simulator of the robot, and he turned as much as he could manage. "It would be preferred that you would not try to grab me again. Force standby mode is not an optimal circumstance either."
Pulling up a plate on his inner wrist, a screen illuminated and he started tapping away direct command code to the robot.
"Now. Show me that diary. It's been a long day, I'm in the mood for something juicy."
"I am not... permitted... to show it to unauthorized users..." it struggled, but was unable to disconnect with Jack's tools.
He scanned through the files in Joseph's memory, searching for something he could gain access to. There were a lot of these. Thousands upon thousands. The ones from this month were highlighted in green on his wrist. With such creative titles as 'Shit, Cruk, Why?,' '[Expletive Deleted] Today,' 'Hhhhrghhh- hehehe...' or 'Things aren't on fire... yet.'
Looking for anything interesting or dramatic, he picked something fairly recent. For within the last two weeks. "Ooooh- Extract number 12956, please."
If Joseph could scowl, he would. "I'm afraid not, Jack McSpringheel."
"What if I..." He started thinking of all the potential bypasses. Then, he realized an obvious oversight. So simple. He couldn't directly view entries- but even with base permissions, he could delete them. And items in the trash for porter storage had unnecessary data wiped. It was an industry standard. Jack tutted. Irving still couldn't always see past his nose nowadays, could he? Also, sharing one? Recipe for trouble.
"Ah. Restore extract 12956, Joseph."
There was a soft whirring, and then he beeped. "Extract restored."
"Now, view extract 12956," he grinned.
"Bernice Summerfield Diary Extract 12956, 'Bored, Tired, and Morbid,' now playing..." he paused, before a life-size hologram of Benny appeared with them in the room, flickering to life and rolling around in her bed. She started speaking, slowly, deliberately. Like she was having trouble talking at all, and words simply didn't agree with her.
"New school year's starting in... dunno. Cruk. Too tired to be sure- but too damn soon. I need a drink. And a shag. And definitely a hug. Just... so tired nowadays. Time ring or no, I'm getting too old for this. That last dig took a lot out of me. People don't need to know that. I can keep going. I need to keep going. I don't do real breaks, and they can't be worried.
Brax can't be worried.
Peter can't be worried.
Not that I'm dying anytime soon. Whether I'm actually all too healthy is a bit less relevant than the fact most of my cells still think I'm a few decades younger than I am, and the length of my telomeres proves it. Not all of my body is ageing at the same speed. That's going to get interesting soon, if the 'thing that happens to senior women' is anything to go by...
I hate thinking about it. Just another way to make me cry. And I haven't exactly been holding myself together well lately.
But the longer I live, the slower I age-
I- I can't. It can't happen. Goddess... "
Jack hit another button on the screen, making it stop the recording and the somewhat panicked image of Bernice Summerfield disappeared into the ether with it. He just couldn't listen to any more of it. Note to self: Benny's diary was definitely why she could even manage to ever seem happy. Sitting down on the counter and kicking the air absentmindedly, he grumbled.
"Alright- that's grim. Didn't know what I expected from Benny, but existential crises and a depression spiral weren't one of them. -At least sober. But, fine. That's me told for trying to find something juicy... Or even a clue what they've been up to all this time? Anything?"
"What she has been 'up to' all this time entirely depends on which timezone she was present in. And which Bernice you are referring to," the porter clarified.
Jack gawked. "Which Bernice?"
Joseph did a sort of indignant grunt, still unable to move. "That is what I said."
The Kadeptian clicked his tongue in annoyance. "You are a really irritating little robot, aren't you? Does this mean more duplicates? Fun. Thought we had enough of that."
"More duplicates? There currently exist five. Previously, four. Bernice, Peter, Bev Tarrant, and Adrian Wall. In addition, now Jason Kane as well," it added.
Jack rolled his eyes again. "Even better... So if Peter or Benny start acting weird they're not the same one? And the dead husband she tried to kill Irving over isn't even dead?"
Joseph started to get explaining, and it slowly developed from pointing out simple facts to rambling about temporal mechanics that his mind couldn't even hope to fully comprehend, and after what felt like hours, Jack began falling asleep. Snoring on the edge of the bar, he got quite literally shocked back awake when the obnoxiously long and painfully dry speech ended and Joseph had enough of being tied in place.
"Any more questions, Jack?"
"Umm. No. Probably not, anyway. Sorry, I guess. Go on, get lost."
He unplugged his cable from the drone and it retracted back into the gauntlet, pulling Joseph out of force standby and letting him zip around the room again. Jack- still a bit ruffled from the move, and having to add a little weight to his shoes, was simply exhausted. And melancholic. They were supposed to be opening in the evening. It was looking like a rough day.
But his train of thought got interrupted when the nasally porter just had to state its future intentions. "Thank you for reenabling free movement. I will aid in cataloguing and ordering ingredients. Please give me approximately five minutes..."
He sighed as the drone left him by himself, idly wiping down the counter.
He hated being by himself.
The silence and emptiness reminded him of when he couldn't go home and see the parts of his family that didn't secretly hate him, of when nobody could remember him on Atlantis, of when Lara died, of when Irving, then Benny, then Ruth left. He had Peter. He had Diego. But they were just two kids he watched finish growing up, in all honesty. It just wasn't the same as a real best friend.
And it definitely wasn't the same as a lover.
Maybe he'd finally get to have one of those, here.
But Jack had that hope on Legion, once. Look how that turned out. Sleeping around for some cheap intimacy and maybe a bit of cash because he was afraid to get attached and knew that was all he'd ever get from it. Gambling because he was struggling to pay the bills and get the White Rabbit out of the red. Drinking the night away and not being able to wake up in the morning. That wasn't all he was good for. But it certainly seemed like it sometimes.
He'd get better. Maybe.
If they stayed, this time. If he stayed, this time.
An adventure or two, perhaps? A different kind of excitement to drown out the monotony of casual violence he'd been used to, if it wasn't just blind nostalgia. Whatever could throw off the bitterness.
Catching a glimpse of something under the counter he saw one other thing relating to people who'd left him- or rather, who he'd left. And someone he was quite frankly glad to be gone from.
It was Jana's favourite knife. The awful girl must have left it here before they closed up. A beautiful blade with a luminescent sheen, being pretty made it no less terrifying if it was up to your throat. And that had happened no less than five times.
Frowning, he casually picked it up and threw it away with all the other rubbish. What happened on Legion stayed on Legion. Good or bad aside, it was still a reminder of what could've been. Something he wasn't in the mood for now.
But the past didn't matter now. It just couldn't.
Not if he wanted a new start.
This was square one.
