agoodyarn | doug and the real girl

doug and the real girl

[ Lovelace brings the prototype back on her second trip out.

It's only fair, really; they all know that Hera's felt restricted and bored and lost here on Earth with nothing to do, kept in the house, only really venturing out in a stilted form via cellphones and laptops. It's awkward and unpleasant and she tries to make everyone feel like she's happy just being with them, and she is! But...

It's not great. Which is why Lovelace brings back the prototype.

It looks like a crash test dummy. There's some question of how much she'll actually be able to go around if she looks like that, but apparently, Lovelace spent a little of her travel time reading the instruction manual and it's designed to actually change according to the mental representation the AI presents it with, a fact that has Hera more than a little flustered and excited and, oh, impatient as she and Lovelace work on investigating the software inside of the body to ensure that there's no hidden traps or other dangers to putting her consciousness there.

It's almost a month later that they declare it clean and then there's the two weeks of prep to get things set up properly to transfer her over. The original intention was a hook up to a space station, to give the AI crew member a 'form' to be able to assist the human crew in case of emergency or need. There's some concerns about zero gravity on the shifting particles, a bit of awkwardness in finding the correct hookups...

But eventually.

Eventually, it's the day. And eventually, after a brief mishap with Minkowski's circuit breaker almost blowing...

Hera opens her eyes.]

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[Doug Eiffel is a man of many skills (he tells himself), but AI stuff is not one of them. This is something Minkowski points out, when he refers to the artful science of Artificial Intelligence as 'AI stuff'. He agrees, and says, well, that was his point.]

[He's excited for Hera. That's all that matters. He never figured she felt lacking for her bodyless... ness, and he never found her lacking as a crew member or a friend (past, you know, early days, but let's not talk about those). Still, if this is a thing she wants, she deserves to have it. They're in a place designed for bodies, now, even moreso than in space.]

[...Which is why he gets a bit excited and maaaaybe he crowds Lovelace and Minkowski a little as they do their thing. Eiffel deems the project 'Malibu Hera', which no one likes or finds funny, but Eiffel uses enough that Minkowski finds herself saying it and then Lovelace does once and Eiffel feels smugly superiod until one of them throws a plastic plate at his head. He can't remember which; both of them have excellent aim.]

[When Hera awakes, he watches the dimensions of the doll (gotta... stop calling it a doll...) change and shift into a heart-faced woman with large, cherubic eyes. Her hair is frizzy and fun. She has smile lines on her face. It all makes sense.]

[She opens her eyes, and Lovelace huffs in pride. She says she'll go check on the processing figures, to make sure Hera isn't about to blow a gasket, while Doug just kinda... looks on. It's not like he can do anything to help but make Hera comfortable.]

[He puts his head on his hand, elbow resting on the edge of the bed Hera's sitting on (in a physical, non-hardware way. Weird! But cool!)] Long time no see, huh? [He holds up a hand to tap the space next to one of his eyes.] I mean. With eyeballs. Eyeholes? You know what I mean.

[ Sitting up is... weird. She's adjusted her cameras and sensors before, but they're all... part of her. And part of her body. And they only adjust somewhat on their own; she has to move otherwise. That's weird. And weight is weird. Limbs: more weirdness. Air. Feeling. Balance. Whoah- still working on balance.

She's got balance.

And blinking is... a thing. Wow. Yeah. And oops, breathing. Breathing too. Breathing and blinking and her internal sensors are very different. Wow.

Doug sounds different now. Better. She likes his voice like this. Her mouth is doing something and she's not sure why since she didn't tell it to.]

Optical sensors are optical sensors, Eiffel.

[ She looks down at the ground and then back up at him. Walking is theoretically possible, the balance program is there. But the practical reality of it.]

Okay, how do I do this?

[She's got a beautiful smile, Eiffel things, before chastising himself for being surprised. She ought to. She's a beautiful person.]

[He looks at the floor, her feet, and then her face.] You mean... walking? You want help walking?

[ Having a face is NEW. Or, rather, she's always HAD a face, but having it be visible. Expressive. Having it EXPRESS things where people can see and understand.

Her expression goes flat and she actually sticks out a little of her tongue at the idea of-]

Yeah, Eiffel. I don't just want to sit here. If I was going to sit in one place, I could do that without a body.

[ She gets a rather determined little pout on her face.]

So... how do I walk?

[Eiffel laughs lightly. This, he knows how to do. He stands, then hunches down a little, his hands out in front of him, palms up.] One foot in front of another.

[To his credit, he doesn't sing it, like he used to for... stop thinking about that.]

Put your feet on my feet. I won't drop you.

[There, now it's less weird. That's not how you teach a baby to walk, it's how you teach someone to dance. But he bets Hera will be an advanced learner.]

[ Oh.

Oh.

That's something she's- it's one of the reasons she didn't think about as a main process but it's always running in the back of her processing unit.

Touching. And of course, touching specifically one person who she-

There's one person that makes her want to do anything, because he's definitely- definitely the center of it all. Of everything. Whether he knows it or not. And now, she's going to touch him.

Oh God oh God oh God oh God-

Oh God.

It's all she can think as her senses actually pick up the sensation of touch, the pressure of his hand against her, the way her compone- hands. The way her hands are soft enough that the weight of her presses in. And she's touching him. She's touching Eiffel.

Her cheeks are deep red.

Does he realize he's the first person she's ever touched?

Does he realize that no matter what, no one else will ever come CLOSE?]

It's easier said than done.

[ Still just a little huffy as she gently nudges herself off of the platform to put her feet on his feet. Her bare feet.

She's dressed, of course. They'd put her in a t-shirt and some shorts, though she's swimming in them a little because of how small she ended up. She's probably only barely five feet tall, if that. It's funny to think that this body was made to handle the vacuum of space, given the small woman currently padding onto Doug Eiffel's feet.]

Of course you won't drop me.

[Eiffel is wearing... socks? He's not wearing bunny slippers, which means it's past 2PM.]

[And she's blushing. Huh. He pulls her hands a little in a grip that's stronger than it should be (the exercise they all had to do to come back from space was a pain) so she's balancing on his feet.]

You okay, darling?

[ It's a good grip. And a good hand. And they're good feet. And the feel of the socks on the bottom of her feet is... interesting. And there's feet underneath the wool socks and that's interesting too.

And then he's saying THINGS. SPECIFIC THINGS. THINGS THAT MAKE HER BRIGHT RED.

Her voice is a soft squeak.]

Fine! I'm fine! I'm... so fine. A- okay. Definitely, totaly good.

[ She's just going to DIE. ]

Shoooould I see if there's some kind of malfunction? You're not acting fine. [He frowns a little, still hesitant to take that first step backward.] It's supposed to replicate how you feel, right?

[He can't imagine why she'd be embarrassed, anyway.] I know I'm very manly, [he hasn't brushed his hair in two days,] but you're showing signs of a Victorian wasting disease, over here. Try not to swoon.

[It's gentle teasing, really.]

[ The thing is

The thing is that she's not malfunctioning. Unless-

NO. She's not malfunctioning. This isn't the color on her skin going wrong. This is exactly what it looks like when a girl is outrageously verklempt over the man who's holding her hands and teaching her how to walk because-

Because he's a giant jerk!]

Eiffel!

That's not- that's not funny.

[ And she's not quite secure enough to pull her hand from his (HER HAND IN HIS) but she sort of rocks as if she'd like to swat him one in the shoulder.

And yeah, the tone is- it's definitely a huffy tone. Huffy, fussy tone of a girl who's- who's just a little-

She's not EMBARASSED, it's just a lot, okay?]

[Eiffel yelps regardless.] Sorry! Sorry. I'll ask Lovelace later. [So she's embarrassed by a potential malfunction, okay. Well, better just... ignore it! He's used to that, too. He dealt with that for years, honestly.]

[He takes a tiny step, her foot on top of his, and then another.] Try and get, I guess the right word is 'muscle memory'? [Two more steps, backward for him, forward for her.]

[ It's difficult, to focus on the walking and the movement. She's watched it on a hundred different monitors over the years, but doing it is something completely different. She's walking, by walking with him, and it's... it's starting to make sense. Sort of.

She should try it on her own.

She doesn't want to let go of him.

But she needs to try it on her own.

...so after a moment, she steps down off of one of his feet. Then the other. She keeps a hold of his hands, nervous as a colt, as she takes a step forward on her own... and a step back.

The beaming smile she turns up at him could light the city for weeks.]

You did it! [Far be it from Eiffel not to encourage that billion watt smile.] Okay, let's try a few more steps like that. [He takes them slowly enough that she could refuse, plant herself in place, and he wouldn't loose contact. He's done this dance before, even if he's trying not to think about it.] You're a natural. Soon you'll be waltzing.

[ Help. The smiling and the encouragement and him being happy for her is SO MUCH MORE when she can feel the sound in the air and his hands around hers and the overwhelming reality of having a body and being able to walk around and all of this is just that much MORE when Eiffel's the one she's experiencing all of it with first.

But she swallows and she nods, determined, and takes a few steps around. Now that she's doing it, it's easy. There's programming in there to help with her biometrics and it kicks in now that she knows what she's doing and how it works. Forward, backwards, turning, swaying. She pauses, looking up at Eiffel.]

Show me waltzing?

[He laughs, genuinely not expecting that, and appreciating Hera's ability to always exceed his expectations.] It's easy. But feet back on mine first. That's how everybody learns, I promise. [...According to movies he's watched.]

Normally, I'd tell you to put on a waltz. Do you still have access to, uh, that? The one we got from the Nutcracker, I think that was the only one... [It was, though Eiffel's knowledge of classical music is limited to simply identifying that it was, in fact, a waltz. He has little clue it was made for a ballet and not to be danced to by normies like them. Eh, you win some, you lose some. It's not like it'll be challenging.]

[ She frowns with some gumption before carefully stepping back on his feet again. As she does, he'll hear the music start to filter through the nearest speakers, soft at first before raising just loud enough to follow the music.

She looks up at him with a smug little smile. ]

You really think a body is going to make me less awesome?

[He laughs as the music starts.] I never should have doubted you.

[And he listens to the music, waiting for the tune to get to the point he remembers.] All waltzes do the same thing. Quick, quick, slow, quick, quick, slow... [As he says it, he moves his feet, two fast steps to the side, one slow step back, matching the tune.]

No, you shouldn't.

[ But then she's keeping herself steady on her feet (or rather, HIS feet) as he moves to the music, her head nodding along with the beat. Quick quick slow, quick quick slow... and how that translates to movement. After a few quick quick slows, she grins up at him and looks at their hands. Turning just a little pinker (she'd started fading back to the soft tan brown that was her normal color), she swallows the once before meeting his eyes.]

Aren't you supposed to- the dances in the movies look different.

[He keeps laughing. This is just... a nice moment. It's nice to be happy. For once, he's not stepping on anyone's toes. Quite the reverse, in fact. Not that he minds it.] What, you want me to dip you? I'm a bit old to put baby in the corner, here.

Are you supposed to dip me?

[ Because if she's supposed to get dipped, then she wants to be dipped. She's not really sure what it means other than a vague idea from a few dances she'd seen in movies.

She rolls her eyes at the rest.]

You're not 'too old'.

I'm pretty sure there's no 'supposed' in this. [Which is what he says right before he dips her, deep and dramatic, with lots of unnecessary flourish.] I just mean you're too heavy for a lift. No offense. My back's just seen better days.

But it's a-

[ Which is when he dips her, deep and dramatic and unexpected, prompts a wild giggle from her until he pulls her back up and she looks exhilirated, enough so that she almost misses the rest. She wobbles a little bit at standing upright and her eyes are bright as she looks Eiffel in the face.

Which is when she leans in and puts her arms around him.

It's something she'd seen in a movie, something she knows about. It's what people do, apparently, to show how happy and enthusiastic and excited and joyful and how much they care about the other person. So she puts her arms around him and squeezes carefully as she takes in-

Takes in what Eiffel smells like and what he feels like and what- what his heart sounds like with her ear against his chest.

She feels like if she had a heart, if she has a heart, it's thumping wildly. It should be.]

[Which, of course, means he has to spin her around. The impulse is overwhelming, and Eiffel is generally impulsive. He's happy, she's happy, and he wants to keep this happy feeling going. She throws her arms around him, and he spins on his heel; he's never been a great ballroom dancer, but he wasn't terrible at normal dancing when he was younger.]

[He lets out a whoop of joy as he goes, matching hers.]

Niiiiice! Yep, you're a natural. [He says, setting her back down.]

[ He spins her, but her focus is to keep her arms around him and hold on. When he whoops, she grins, secret and happy against her own arm before curling a little tighter once she's 'down'. Maybe she can pretend she's doing this because her balance is off? That would make sense for someone who just got spun around, right? Right.

She's never known 'warm' as anything more than a temperature, a concept. It's still something of a concept, because she can technically handle the heat of reentry or the cold of space. But it's a different kind of concept, when she can feel clothing and skin and muscle bending a little, giving a little, to the pressure of her arms and the weight of her body against him. It's... it's something different. It makes her hate words, hate language, because she can't think of some way to express that difference in one complete form. It's just words and numbers all jumbled up trying to convey this thing she's only starting to understand.

But she likes it. A lot.

Enough that she's not quite sure what to say. Which is weird for her, because for so long, she's really just been a voice. She's been a voice and a ship and a presence. But maybe that's why it's difficult. It's hard to think of going back to that, or think of that and this when she's feeling this right now. Feeling and sensing and smelling and breathing in to try and talk and breathing out when she realizes she doesn't have any words.]

[Doug, of course, immediately assumes that's the case; he spun her around too hard. Can robots get dizzy? Well, now he knows. It seems like a silly function to implant in the doll-body-thing, but maybe it's like giving HAL a personality; it's for better understanding and all that stuff. He wouldn't know. He's only good at tweaking his equipment until he can get broadcasts from Mexico at 4am.]

Whoops, sorry. Went a bit too hard, I guess?

[He lets her hold on, bending over so he doesn't break his neck trying to hold her. He might be taller, but he's not very strong. Real shock, right?]

No.

[ That she can get out. Because she likes this. Though... looking at Eiffel, maybe she needs to adjust. She pulls her arms away from his neck so he can straighten up, and immediately slides them around his middle.

There. That. This is better. ]

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