Ep1.5 - Experiential Bias - Closed
Aug 11, 2015 12:07:41 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Aug 11, 2015 12:07:41 GMT -5
Shockwave, about to load the first of the extrusion mixes into the appropriate device, came to a standstill and gave his Lord his full attention. The heavy shoulders shifted back minutely; the glaring red optic focused and refocused. It was, normally, a gesture only Roulette could provoke, because of a norm only Roulette was so illogical as to catch the scientist off guard.
At the moment, however, Shockwave had been caught entirely flatfooted by the likelihood that his liege lord would think him to be complaining. Through all his aeons, through following science from his inception to the moment upon which they stood, the Decepticon Chief of Science knew he had never, in the whole of his existence, been so absurdly pampered in his pursuits as he'd been under Megatron's Decepticon aegis. He was free from ethics and morals; he had a nearly unlimited supply of materials and subjects or, when necessary, the freedom to collect either himself. He answered only to someone who not only understood the value of science untethered, but who stretched an intellect that grew, perhaps, menacing when left stagnant too long.
"But I am satisfied, Lord Megatron." Shockwave's tone conveyed... not quite an apology, but perhaps a hint of his concern that he'd not made himself clear. "I value the freedom to pursue the expansive demands of my position. Sharing one's thoughts with one's peers is only satisfactory when those peers appreciate them, rather than be horrified by them and I am well aware of which emotion I provoke. I would not ask you, or anyone, to provide the illogical."
Shockwave returned his attention to loading the extruders, which turned to him like hungry, remote-activated maws. It occurred to the scientist that he was allowing familiarity to override logic: he logically knew that Lord Megatron did not, at the moment, have their hoard of past interactions to gauge their conversation, and yet Shockwave kept gradually allowing himself to slip into such behaviors. It was a grievous error on his part, and it had to stop.
As such, he added a comment he would have otherwise held superfluous, and with a source he... wouldn't have otherwise brought into the conversation. An emotional frisson passed like rolling stormclouds over his field. "I have been told before that my... dissatisfaction is impossible to miss. It is, apparently, a root emotional response that cannot be excised with ease."
He turned an extruder towards the nearest work table, and set it to work putting out tiny, serrated rings that nestled neatly into one another; they resembled uncannily the jaws of a Cybertronian's smallest nightmare, and gleamed wetly as they lined up in an orderly grid.
At the moment, however, Shockwave had been caught entirely flatfooted by the likelihood that his liege lord would think him to be complaining. Through all his aeons, through following science from his inception to the moment upon which they stood, the Decepticon Chief of Science knew he had never, in the whole of his existence, been so absurdly pampered in his pursuits as he'd been under Megatron's Decepticon aegis. He was free from ethics and morals; he had a nearly unlimited supply of materials and subjects or, when necessary, the freedom to collect either himself. He answered only to someone who not only understood the value of science untethered, but who stretched an intellect that grew, perhaps, menacing when left stagnant too long.
"But I am satisfied, Lord Megatron." Shockwave's tone conveyed... not quite an apology, but perhaps a hint of his concern that he'd not made himself clear. "I value the freedom to pursue the expansive demands of my position. Sharing one's thoughts with one's peers is only satisfactory when those peers appreciate them, rather than be horrified by them and I am well aware of which emotion I provoke. I would not ask you, or anyone, to provide the illogical."
Shockwave returned his attention to loading the extruders, which turned to him like hungry, remote-activated maws. It occurred to the scientist that he was allowing familiarity to override logic: he logically knew that Lord Megatron did not, at the moment, have their hoard of past interactions to gauge their conversation, and yet Shockwave kept gradually allowing himself to slip into such behaviors. It was a grievous error on his part, and it had to stop.
As such, he added a comment he would have otherwise held superfluous, and with a source he... wouldn't have otherwise brought into the conversation. An emotional frisson passed like rolling stormclouds over his field. "I have been told before that my... dissatisfaction is impossible to miss. It is, apparently, a root emotional response that cannot be excised with ease."
He turned an extruder towards the nearest work table, and set it to work putting out tiny, serrated rings that nestled neatly into one another; they resembled uncannily the jaws of a Cybertronian's smallest nightmare, and gleamed wetly as they lined up in an orderly grid.