FLASHBACK - Maximally Invasive Procedures - (Closed)

[Deleted]

Set in Iacon during the Golden Age!

----


The brain module sliced in half with obscene ease.

Both halves feel sideways into their respective dishes amid a gush of protofluid, rattling against the glass with a crystalline tinkle. Satisfied, Ratchet clicked off the microlaser and leaned back in his seat. He sniffed.

A superior cross-section cut. Clean and molecular-precise. Right from the pre-drilled burr hole through the exterior periosteel shell, past the biolights, and into the mass of woven neurocircuity and fibres cupped within, perfectly exposing the oculomotor and the faulty optic tectal for further investigation. Excellent.

Ratchet sighed and dropped the laser onto the tray at his elbow. Instruments clattered, probes and scalpels and hooks. He rotated his stiff shoulder, and then worked his hand over a sore rotor in the back of his neck.

Now, if he could only diagnose the problem with this module and submit his paper he might yet maintain top marks in the third stellar-cycle stereotactic surgery class and who was he kidding. By this point he was going to achieve that anyway. He could take a flying leap off the Ministry of Truth and break both legs at the knees and still stroll out of his class within the top one percentage. Hmf.

Around him the A-Wing Neurosurgery lab was quiet. The white laboratory tables and berths, the image guidance monitors, the solution basins, the electrosurgical unit and light armatures and manipulator arms were coldly spotless, polished like glass and antiseptic. Rows of brain modules floated in protofluid containment jars in the topmost shelves that circled the room. They peered down at all those who entered the lab. And then at the bots who quickly realised they had made a terrible error, turned smartly around, and hurried back out again, never to return.

The Academy was quiet that night. Outside of its airy corridors and lecture halls the golden city of Iacon sat beneath a red sunset, across which fliers and Skydarts flitted like falling stars. Ratchet had only heard one or two hails over the university announcement system since he had begun the procedure earlier. A handful of blurry shadows had walked past the frosted laboratory windows, students or instructors perhaps. He had no idea what hour it was. It was late. Late worked. His concentration was hardly on his internal chronometre.

With one eye on the split brain module Ratchet picked up a neuroendoscope from the tray and flicked on its fibre optic light. Another press of his thumb switched on the suction. The tool hissed softly.

Ratchet eyed the module. Where had this one come from again? He thought back to its pin flag. Oh, right. The poor digital board worker who claimed he saw ghostly images of Primus in the projected holographs of engex flavours and frame mods he maintained. An optical hallucination at work of course, but what issue rooted in biophysiology had caused it? It was Ratchet's task to figure that out.

He snorted, rotating a light a little closer overhead, and bent over his station again.

Well, this faulty optic tectal wasn't going to dissect and diagnose itself.

[Optimus Prime]

Monotonous, one could easily describe Orion's job as just that. But what was boring and bland for others? Was far from it for the mech that threw himself at the assigned tasks, labeling them insightful and interesting. It was not really apparent if this ingrained... want... to learn more and organize it all was built into his very processor, or if it had been a lucky personality quirk. What did matter? Was that it was there, and as such? It made him very efficient at his work, which was good... considering it seemed to be an endless flow of incoming data.

Filing, organizing, storing in proper locations, pulling it back out and compiling into proper data packets for those that request certain elements. Redoing all the categories, going back in and organizing larger themes down into small subcategories. It was a constant juggle of organization and hunting that brought on a general vague knowledge of many things. But vague? Didn’t seem to settle right for him, and on his off times? He would dive into whatever thing happened to catch his interest at the moment, to learn more. Not only would it sate his curiosity? But it would make it easier for him to do his job if he ever came across requests related to such fields. It is that which had brought him originally to the Academy, and it is what which had led him to meeting Ratchet.

It was this mech he was going to visit now.

Orion had gotten off of his assignment for the day, having completed his allotted task, plus a few other smaller ones that would relieve the workload for the next shift. Though such extra time? Would have been spent trying to get ahead of the game so to speak more so than slacking off, trying to always be efficient and catch up to everything. But as dedicated as he was to his job? He could not work now, and as such? Made his way to the Academy intent to check in on his newest companion.

It had taken a bit of time to locate where the medic in training was located, that much more time added due to the fact the academy was mostly cleared out for the night so there were fewer individuals to ask. Orion wondered if perhaps he was too late, that Ratchet had departed to go to his place of living, but he continued on either way, eventually coming across the lab. With a light dip of his shoulder so he didn’t have to juggle the objects in his hands into one palm, he pushed open the door with it, and entered in, pausing to look around.

Oh...

Optics settled instantly upon the brain modules in the jars, as the lens plate in his eyes contracted a bit from the lights and stark white interior that seemed to bounce the illumination around to make it that much brighter. The second thing to hit him? Was the smell, it nearly overpowering with a bitter sharpness to it. Chemicals, and sterile... it was not very enjoyable... The third thing he finally noticed? Was the frame of the recognizable white and blood-orange medic.

Ignoring the ghastly display on the walls, Orion didn't say anything at first, thinking perhaps he'd be interrupting something important. Yet? Instead of turning around and waiting outside for when Ratchet was done with his task? Orion took the other option to step forward. The Data Clerk was much leaner and smaller than what he would one day become, his armor squared off and simple, just the basic necessities for day to day life. There were no decorative edges to it, everything rather factory cut with an overlay of red and blue as the only 'unique' qualifier. Clutched in his right hand? Was a chunk of filtered and re-crystallized Energon, a sort of snack comparable to an apple, while his left arm was lightly folded behind his back as he approached.

Orion eased over slightly to try to view what Ratchet was working on once he got beside the medic in training, not really wanting to disturb, but immensely curious about what was being worked upon. If the jars above had any indication? It would be something quite complex with a brain core? It was only when Ratchet acknowledged he was there and stopped working, that Orion finally spoke.

"...Is that for your class?"

No... no Orion... Ratchet just got a brain core out to play with it... Of course it would be something for his class! The clerk paused a second in thought, as if realizing what he had asked was foolish, before continuing, trying to skip over his previous less thought out question.

"Is that truly what a brain module looks like?..."

Another stupid question... whatever...

Orion tapped his fingertip down once upon the crystallized Energon in thought, easing back slightly. He still was leaned forth a bit however, optics settling down on the split brain core with a sort of morbid curiosity. He should feel ill, but it seemed so... fake almost... Hard to just imagine something that vital, that personal of a piece of machinery, cut open on a table like it was. As such he felt detached from the gore, and didn't really have a proper response towards it formed yet. Maybe in a bit it would finally settle in... but until then...

"...I hope I am not interrupting."

[Deleted]

His attention absorbed in his delicate task, Ratchet did not notice his arrival.

Even when the lab doors whirred shut behind Orion he did not turn around. Only when the unexpected voice piped up behind his shoulder did the young medic respond at last.

He spooked. The neuroendoscope in his hand jabbed into the half of brain module he was excavating with a loud squelch of suction as it immediately sucked in a pool of protofluid. Ratchet jerked the scope back and the module rocked back and forth in its glass dish.

“Orion!” Ratchet glowered back over his shoulder, sitting hunched with his arms dropped around the dish as if to protect it. “Primus, you startled me! How you move so quietly, I’ll never know. When did you get here?! I didn't even hear your arrival.”

Reluctantly he straightened. The neuroendoscope was dropped back into the tray as he swivelled in his seat to get a better look at his friend.

“No, you're not exactly interrupting,” he said. “I was just preparing to clean this module for the preliminary dissection. A sub–perioshell investigation of the optic tectal and its neural–circuitry connections to the occipital processing centre. Very precise surgery. It’s lucky you caught me when you did.”

Ratchet did not bother to disguise the haughty tone in his voice. It was precise. And he was proud of the level of skill and manual dexterity he had achieved that allowed him to perform it.

He eyed his friend. Orion looked much as he always did: earnest and studiously grave. The university environment suited him, he thought. He often thought – privately – that the data clerk deserved a better function than the one he had been allotted. An archivist perhaps, at an institution like the Iaconian Academy of Science and Technology.

“What are you doing here?“ he said. ”Come to browse the library?”

[Optimus Prime]

((I never thought my experience in a Cadaver Lab would ever come to play on this RP site -cacklewheeze-))


Orion didn't intend to spook Ratchet; he had thought the medic in training would have heard his arrival. The lab had been... so quiet... and he isn't exactly sneaky? Though Ratchet must have been so engrossed in his work he was blind to his presence until he spoke. Alas, the data clerk looked down at the tool, a faint twitch of a grimace in place at the sound. While the sights seemed still... detached? Not really real? The sound was not the most pleasant thing to associate with it.

He was still having issues grasping that this is what a brain core must actually look like. Even thought it was made of metals and likely some tiny plastic and rubber components, it all just looked like wax, excessively artificial. It almost seemed like a prop of some kind, that didn’t match up with common conceptions of what it should look like. The colors not what one would expect, the shine on its surface just not the same... But it was real right?... I mean Ratchet wouldn't be poking inside a false one for practice so deep into his courses.

"I just arrived; you must have been quite engrossed in your work."

As Ratchet rotated in his seat and set the tool aside Orion eased back upright fully so he was no longer hovering over the work. His blue optics flicked down to the brain module again, still questioning it internally, before looking back at Ratchet. It was almost as if he was really curious about the machinery, but didn't want to be rude, choosing instead to focus on his friend, even if that friend was spouting terminology that he didn’t grasp fully.

Sure, individual words he knew, he understood the basic phrase, but all how it linked together? How it equated to the brain core? Went a bit over his head. He was a clerk, not a medic, and he was a bit lost because of it. Unlike what he would someday become? Orion was significantly easier to read as a person, this confusion evident.

"Hmm... yes, well..."

He sidestepped around properly commenting on what exactly Ratchet was doing, moving on once he got prompted another question.

"Not today, it was the end of my shift, and thought it customary to visit. Seems you need a reminder of just how late it is."

It was not scolding, but more... a light nudge to remind Ratchet that it indeed was late, and that he probably didn’t need to be up slaving over a brain core all night. Paired with this, was the lightest of knowing smirks, excessively faint, but present, as he finally removed his left arm from being folded at his lower back.

"I also thought it normal to bring an offering, though given the... environment... I do not see it functioning as intended."

He had a second chunk of the crystallized Energon he presented, the translucent stone clutched between his fingertips to 'hover' over the flat of his palm. He had it somewhat held out for Ratchet, though whether he'd be able to take it or not was not known. He was just handling a brain core... and Orion expected him to reject it because of such and tell him to keep hold of it since his hands weren't contaminated.

"So you are doing what exactly?..."

[Deleted]

Ratchet leaned back. He brightened a little when he spotted the energon.

"Ah, thank you," he said. "I can't remember the last time I had something to eat. Is it truly that late? Huh."

Without skipping a beat Ratchet picked up a pair of forceps from his tray of instruments. With a squint he snapped them open and shut a few times before plucking the energon shard from Orion’s hand. One slice with the microlaser neatly severed a bite-sized chunk off the shard, which he set down beside the dish.

As neat as a bird he picked the chunk off the table with the forceps and popped it into his mouth. The crunch crunch crunch echoed around the lab.

“S'good” he mumbled. He gestured to the brain module with the forceps. "With this? Lab dissection. Part of my stereotactic class. This module is damaged, and I have been given the assignment to uncover how it was damaged and why. Here, take a closer look."

Ratchet dropped the forceps into a beaker of sterilizing solution. Using a probe he gingerly tilted one of the module halves to the side to give Orion a better look at its cross-section. Beneath the surgical light the exposed loops and coils of densely packed circuitry gleamed, still slick and gently sloshing with undrained cerebro protofluid.

"See that?" Ratchet prodded a tiny node cluster. "That is the oculomotor, inside which is contained the optic tectal, a chipset for the optics that primarily controls their communication with our spatial and motor-related processing centres. This little node will produce a topographic map of your surroundings in optinotopic coordinates. The activation of neural impulses at a particular point on that map evokes a response directed towards the corresponding point in space. This in turn directs optical movement and focus, as well as assists in generating spatially directed head turns, arm-reaching movements, and even shifts in attention. Quite interesting."

He lowered the probe and sniffed. "Anyway, as I said, this one is damaged. Erratic function in the tectal was causing its owner to hallucinate quite severely. Eventually the poor fellow walked directly into the path of a shuttle. 'Primus beckons!' were the last words he said, according to the friend who was with him at the time. Ffft! Like I said, severe hallucinations."

Looking shirty, Ratchet rubbed the weariness from his optics before he hunched back over the dishes. "Anyway, I probably shouldn't keep you, I'm sure you have plenty of other things you need to be doing right now..."

[Optimus Prime]

Orion's brow hooked up a bit when Ratchet produced the forceps and clicked them together. He had expected him to go back to work and to follow up his words with something else, however? What he didn't anticipate was the tools being used to pluck the object from his hands. His palm flattened, watching curiously as the Energon was removed via the tool, before Ratchet settled it to surgically slice off a chunk as if biting into it wasn't really an option.

As weird as it was to see him dissect the chunk off and meticulously maneuver the sliver around with the slender tools? What was even weirder? Was the fact he actually ate it. It spoke volumes to Orion that Ratchet was exceptionally desensitized to what lay before him, as well as the... rancid... stench in the room. Orion himself had been eating his own chunk of Energon, but that was before he entered into the room...

The smell of chemicals and just... death... had killed his appetite instantly, to leave him just holding the bitten into shard in his hand absently. His fingertip clicked upon it momentarily, as he peered down at it a second, trying to imagine taking a bite with that smell in the air. The only thing it made him think of? Was how the stench would affect the taste and make it seem like he was eating something from one of those jars, which just made his tanks roll a bit in nauseous protest. He really had no intention of finishing his meal...

Moving happily past the subject of food, Orion looked down at what Ratchet was pointing out, listening intently to what he was saying.

Yeah... moving WELL past the thought of food...

Orion eased forward again when the core half was turned about for him to view it. He couldn't help himself, it was a morbid curiosity that drove him to want to see all the details, and listen to exactly what Ratchet was pointing out. He doubted he would ever NEED this information... he didn’t think he would ever be faced with anything that would require him to be able to point out the optic tectal from a severed brain core... but here he was either way, filing the information as soon as he figured out exactly what was being said.

Ohh... Orion didn’t really need to hear the story how the guy died... that somewhat made it a bit more... real? To him? That this wasn't a prop, but was indeed someone's life right there in front of him cut in half. Hearing the last words? Was one more thing to make it that much more tangible, causing nausea to start to form.

"...I feel bad for him."

Orion almost croaked this out, his voice having dropped a bit lower with an edge to it that betrayed that... euughhh... what he was viewing was actually settling in. He was thinking about the individual now, and how awful it must have been to be living in such a state of torture with hallucinations from one's own processor turning against them. He was thinking about how he wasn't able to be helped in time, before he took his own life by means of a shuttle.

Snapped from his inner thoughts. Orion barely managed to catch what Ratchet said next, his optics a bit wider as they peered at his friend with a mild look of 'deer in the headlights'. Did he have other things?... no no he was set for tonight, all he really could do was retreat home to find refuel impossible from the memory of the stench of this room, maybe read a bit then recharge for the next day.

"On the contrary, I have completed all I had for today, sent home. Unless that was a veiled attempt to send me out."

He trailed off a bit, before easing back upright, optics settling on the jars positioned high up on shelves. There were... just so many... so many lives having been ended, only to be bottled up and stored as display like that. Each one having its own story, each one having its own memories and life behind it. It made him wonder, if he could ever end up in such a state. If his own frame would be pulled apart to help others learn, just... a prop... While the sparks were long gone, the memory core still held so much information on their lives, and what made them... them... It was... disconcerting.

"So... they all had glitches and flaws as well...?"

He was referring to the brain cores up on the shelves, his optics still settled up there. It was apparent how he was thinking of them, and what kind of thoughts were going through his processor by the terminology he used. 'They' instead of phrasing the sentence as if the objects were just things to be studied to learn from. His tanks rolled once more in idle protest.

[Deleted]

Ratchet hesitated. He twiddled the probe between his fingers, even as his gaze darted to the side. In all truthfulness it really had been an attempt to usher the data clerk out of his personal space. His lab was due in a cycle, and he had yet to remove the faulty nodes. But now that Orion was here and looking about with wide optics he found he did not have the heart to shoo him away.

He dropped the probe onto the tray and pushed to his feet. Things creaked awfully in his back and shoulders and Ratchet grimaced, standing in an awkward hunch until the twinges went away. Bah. Stiff tensor cords with corresponding pain in the thoriacic section of the spinal strut. He really had been sitting down at that workstation for a long time. At this rate he was going to turn into a rusted old mech before his time.

Hmf. Maybe Orion was right, and he did need a reminder of the lateness of the hour.

"Ah, you mean the jars?" said Ratchet. He picked up the energon shard and strolled towards the nearest cupboard, motioning for Orion to follow. "Yes, they all come from donors: bots who sign over their bodies to the Academy for the purpose of medical research. The majority of them have suffered from some form of damage, disorder, or critical viral infection. There is a control group of unblemished modules here as well for comparison testing, but they're not nearly as interesting to examine as some of the damaged ones. Here, come take a look."

Ratchet popped the shard into the corner of his mouth and reached up to swing open the glass cupboard doors. The shard waggled on his lip as he talked. "See this one?"

He took down a jar and peered at its pin flag. "Let's see here... ahh. Frontotemporal degeneration, resulting in cognitive dysfunction and compulsive behaviour. This was long before my time, but apparently the victim tried to eat a Skydart. As in, piece by piece. He was of course caught and restrained, but not before he had successfully ingested part of a battery containing a Class 8 corrosive. A nasty end."

Ratchet put the jar back onto the shelf and pulled down another. The module suspended inside it clinked gently against the glass and released a tiny cloud of bubbles.

"Hmm. Oh, it seems that this poor fellow was a murder victim. Shot in the back of the head by a high-impact pistol. Survived for thirty vorn before the bullet finally dug in deeply enough between two optical circuits and into the cortex centre and killed him. Apparently until then the only difficulties the victim encountered was a mild confusion when indexing names that fell between the range of K to O at his place of work. Very strange story."

The jar was returned to its place. Ratchet shuffled over and picked up a third and regarded it curiously.

"Hmm. Oh dear. Another primus apotheosis sufferer. This one tried to - oh. Oh, my. Well, if The Thirteen were actually real I hardly believe they would approve of that."

[Optimus Prime]

If Orion knew Ratchet had wanted him gone? He would have departed without a second prompting. He didn't want to be a bother; he didn’t want to burden one who was studying such a difficult field to learn properly. But there had been no sign that he was actually interfering? Just that he had prompted Ratchet into taking a bit of a break. A break? That the medic in training seemed to need as when he stood up? There were a few light creaks of protest that was not lost to the clerk.

Orion took a step back to give Ratchet room, and not crowd him. It was one thing to be as close as he was to look down at his work when he was sitting, but standing? It was way inside normal personal bubbles. Once he took a step back, he watched as Ratchet picked back up the Energon crystal and prompted him to follow.

With gradual steps, Orion trailed behind Ratchet, looking around the lab once more while they were on the move. For such a clean and sterile place, essentially a hospital, it really did have a creepy edge to it with all those brain cores just sitting around like grim décor. His optics settled back down at the cupboard once they approached, but not without noting Ratchet eating the shard, completely unphased by the gore.

Brows furrowed some at the first jar that was lifted off of the shelf and brought down to eye level. It looked very similar to the other one, and to his untrained eyes? He simply could see no difference other than perhaps some age and discoloration that one would expect for being in storage for some time. But tell him to point out the damage? And yeah... no... he'd believe Ratchet and what he was saying.

What was said however was not exactly appealing all things considered. Now all he could think of? Was how awful it must have been to perish by ingesting such a corrosive material. Something eating through ones tank would be bad enough, but it had to be severe enough to continue on and burn through other things yes?... for it to have ended in a death? It was grim and sobering concept.

The second jar to be brought down, released tiny bubbles, which... just made him think it was decaying or corroding somewhat inside the vessel. It caused him to ease back a bit, really not wanting to have his crystallized Energon chunk any longer in his hands. He was so done with it, and food was the last thing he wanted to think of at all. Especially when the bullet was mentioned.

Thirty vorns... thirty VORNS with a bullet in the processor before it gradually killed them. That had to have been hellish to endure towards the end when the bullet migrated down to a point of causing death. Orion tried to just reassure himself that it could have been an instantaneous disconnection of those wires and subsequent power down, maybe a short circuit of two electrical clusters branching together from the bullet's metal... but all he could imagine? Was how awful that had to have been for the victim, before flicking back to the idea of tanks being chewed apart internally by acid, then back to the brain module that was sliced in half and oozing photoflood, then to the fact Ratchet was actually EATING around all this with that horrendous stench in the air...

The explanation about the third jar and what had been wrong, or what had happened to the individual fell on deaf ears, as Orion stood there blankly with a flat look on his features. The Energon chunk in his hand was clutched tightly, and his armor just seemed to not have the same bright tones it had held moments prior. Some of the color had leached out of the pigment, leaving him rather pale.

"Oh."

He started flatly, trying to keep up with the subject to not disrupt the flow of conversation.

"That’s interesting."

He didn't really sound that tuned into the topic of what was being said despite this, as blue optics looked at Ratchet but didn’t really seem to be looking AT him. All he could think of now was the agony of being hit by a shuttle, the split and half brain core, internals being eaten away by acid, and a bullet gradually edging deeper into delicate processor matter, then the thought of a corroding and rusting brain core. Because of this? His own tanks felt like they were chewing on his internals, grinding into the crystallized Energon he had consumed before arriving.

Yeah no... no...

Orion wrenched around suddenly with a lurch, before he moved over to the lab's sink a few paces away with a stumble. He moved swiftly, with definitive purpose and a goal, to cross the distance in a flicker of a spark beat before he grasped its edges. With a wrenched heave, he vacated his tanks of the fuel they had been struggling to process moments prior, the bright purple glow of the ground up crystal lighting up the metal basin. The partly processed fuel was awful coming back up, and this data intertwined with the stench in the room? And it compelled him to continue on as if all the Energon in his system was tainted now. After a couple moments Orion was done, there nothing left to purge as he remained gripping the sink. It was then an awkward forced laugh struggled out as if he was trying to break the tension, but a laugh was really not the most natural thing for him to do, it a bit disjointed.

"I believe I have new appreciation for the work you do Ratchet."

[Deleted]

Startled, Ratchet turned away from the cupboard just in time to see his friend bending over the sink. It took him a moment to process what he was looking at.

“Oh!” he said. “Oh. That’s unfortunate.”

With a jar still in hand he stood back and watched Orion being ill. Though he strove to project an outward air of gravity and understanding, inwardly he guffawed. Not many mechs lasted very long in this particular lab. Most took one look at all of the brains and hurried back out again, sometimes at a run. He had to give Orion credit for lasting longer than most. Only first year and above medical students and weirdos tended to hang around longer.

When Orion finally straightened again and looked a little recovered, Ratchet put the jar back on the shelf and closed the glass doors. He wiped the evil grin from his face as he approached his friend and laid a sympathetic hand on his back.

“Always better out than in,” he said. “Feeling better now? We can go take a walk and get out here for a while if you like. I’ll tag my project and put it back for now, and we can go visit the library. Or the observatory, that’s not far. The view is a lot more pleasant. And perhaps I could use the walk and the fresh air.”

It certainly looked like Orion could use some of the latter. Charitably, Ratchet refrained from saying that aloud.

[Optimus Prime]

Orion only had lasted as long as he had, out of a want to attempt to socialize, and the fact he was subconsciously playing it all off as being false in some way. Practice units, they were fake, the school not wasting REAL things on students in training. Getting those brain cores had to be expensive, or just hard to come by. So better use fake ones right? But alas... the subconscious denial can only guard for so long, when the other in the room was telling stories about how each individual perished with so much casual calm it was as if Ratchet were discussing the weather. How was he so at ease around all this? And EATING still!?

With one last gagged hack after he had spoken, he spat to try to clear the rancid taste from his mouth, hearing Ratchet approaching. Now that he was a bit more recovered? Now that his processor wasn't swimming with spiraled thoughts? He felt a bit embarrassed for what he had done. He had to commend Ratchet though for not laughing or teasing... though he was oblivious to the internal guffaw the medic in training had hid from him.

He would be able to look back and find amusement at this, but right now? He just really didn’t feel too well.

Orion eased up fully when the hand was placed on his back, trying to roll his shoulders into a more formal stance once more and return to what was normal for him. As he shook off the hunched stance, he reached forward to turn on the sink, to try to clear away the evidence of his illness. The light purple glow gradually diluted and faded as it was washed away.

"I would appreciate that, but don't wish to be a burden."

The data clerk admitted this flatly with a croak as he recovered, not wanting to force Ratchet to abandon his project. He had been hoping to just strike up some conversation, letting them still work on whatever they needed to do. Or perhaps? Just take a minor pause to eat, (which was a mistake in his part). Granted... he should have assumed talking and brain surgery weren't the easiest of things... but this was just practice exploration yes? It wasn't like there was an actual life hanging in the balance? That is what he thought of, but alas...

"However I... require my leave of this room. Do not feel need to stop your research."

Orion stated this in earnest, perhaps realizing how selfish he had been to barge in to strike up conversation. Ratchet was a student in a very difficult field, he didn’t need to be harassed even if he probably should take a break... no no he had to remember that Ratchet WAS training to be a medic right? He knew when he had to take a break, who was he to impose his concepts to Ratchet? But overworking could be an issue, sometimes someone was blind to it... granted who was he to talk? Orion would still be tinkering away on the database if he wasn't sent away.

Hypocrite.

With a light push after the sink was turned off and cleared, Orion would begin to ease towards the doorway some. Once he was about half way there, he turned about face, to take a few strides backwards to address Ratchet as he did so, reiterating his previous words to try to make sure that it was abundantly clear he didn’t have to follow. His armor was still a bit pale, but he didn't appear as if he was going to hit the ground any longer, even if his now voided tanks churned in angry protest.

"Truly, do not feel you must halt, Ratchet."

[Deleted]

Grinning openly now, Ratchet shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I suppose I should get out of this lab for a few minutes anyway. The smell does tend to linger a little, doesn’t it?”

He sniffed his wrist, then shrugged it off. The odour of preservative chemicals that clung to this place and everything in it was so familiar to him now that he barely acknowledged it.

With one finger raised at Orion to indicate for the data clerk to wait, Ratchet turned back to his project. A touch of his finger activated the seals on both dishes, a faintly glimmering half–globe of hard light that protected what lay inside within a vacuum. Though he left the instruments lying carelessly in the tray he typed a quick message on his lab datapad – ’disturb this and perish’ - before rubbing his hands together.

“Come on!” Two quick steps caught him up to Orion, and he clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder before activating the lab door. “I’ll at least escort you up to the observatory before turning back. They should have the newsfeed running on the monitors up there, and I wouldn’t mind catching up on the news. Especially since the Dissidents are currently holding a debate on the pervasive influence of the cold–constructed apartheid in modern times at that other Academy, and I’m dying to see how well that is going for them.”

Ratchet snorted, and the door hissed open. Outside the hall was clean and white and dimly lit, save for gently glowing signs and directional strips on the walls.

[Optimus Prime]

Orion was pleased that Ratchet decided to come with him, but what he wasn't too pleased about? Was the light motion towards him to wait. He begrudgingly halted in his retreat due to the request, peds planting down with light clunks to cut short his backwards momentum. He probably should have just said he would meet him out in the hallway, or some other action that would land him away from the interior of this place without straight up being rude. But alas, he was partly trapped by his ingrained NEED to be polite and accommodating.

Cyan eyes peered at Ratchet quizzically as he started to set up the trays to await his return. He could not see from his perspective what was put on the datapad, but the light rub of Ratchet's hands after? And the look on his faceplates? Revealed to him that it was most likely a threat of some kind to whoever may dare disturb the brain core. While Orion had yet to be on the receiving end of any kind of anger from Ratchet, he knew that it could probably be rather vengeful... though... nothing compared to what it would someday become...

Int he end, it wasn't like that small bit of time to prep the trays really was an overbearing amount to wait in this environment, but Orion wanted to depart from here rather quickly ever since he had to void his tanks. The moment that they had gotten away from the room? The instant that they were getting away from that rancid stench to permit fresh air to take its place? Orion seemed to straighten up a bit more, becoming far more recognizable as his normal self.

"That is today?"

Orion's arm nearest Ratchet's lifted up and mirrored the medic's motions of plunking down on the other's shoulder closest to him while they walked. He turned his helm then to peer over at him, brows rising ever so slightly as he absorbed what they had said. The entire concept was interesting to listen to, but... one had to feel bad for the actual need for such a thing.

"I find it distasteful that one would judge another simply by the means in which they were given life."

He said this calmly, his voice having returned to normal. It seemed that the change in topics? To something he could actually engage in more than asking obnoxious questions? Was pulling him far from his previous nauseated state. He no longer looked so sickly, though his tanks were still empty and would probably be upset about that a bit later.

"How different our world would be, if assumptions and prejudice were cast aside. Such things are burden to the past, that in turn threaten the future..."

Orion's attention turned ahead of them as they walked, making sure he wasn't about to run into anything, while also being mindful of where they were. While he had been around this academy a few times? He didn't wish to become turned about and confused by the myriad of immensely similar hallways. Forget the fact there were directional strips, after awhile things could blur.

"Let us hope those that see the debate, do not find past judgments reawakened from dormancy."

True it may be just an Academy debate, and the entire population wouldn't see it, but it was still a touchy subject he felt. All it could take was the right fuse ignited, and they could have a regression on any progress made on such fronts. That was why Orion was looking at it rather seriously. His helm tilted ever so slightly to give Ratchet a side glance, without looking fully away from where he was going, curious of the medic's input.

[Deleted]

Once outside the lab the scent of preservative vanished, replaced instead by filtered and recirculated air. The hall was dark for the night but Ratchet led the way easily, mostly by familiarity. He flashed Orion a quick, friendly look when the data clerk laid a hand upon his shoulder.

"Consider my thoughts to lie along the same direction as yours," he said. "That this debate even needs to take place however suggests that a significant difference of opinion regarding the matter still persists within many academic circles. It's ridiculous. I wonder if old Nova ever anticipated that his fears about dwindling spark creation would ever ever preserve into future ages. I sort of suspect that all he was concerned about at the time was how he would propagate a future empire from a dwindling population base."

Ratchet snorted. His view on the Primes had always been a little dim, borderline cynical, and Nova Prime was no exception

He led the way around a corner in the hall and to a lift. A placard of glyphs and directional arrows next to it indicated that the observatory was up two levels. Ratchet tapped the button to hail the lift and waited, his arms crossed, fingers drumming on his forearms.

"What irritates me is when people bring religion into the matter," he said. "You wouldn't believe the number of otherwise sensible bots who have remarked that my own manual dexterity and my being forged is somehow interconnected - that it is proof of the existence of the deity Adaptus. Pah! It's absurd. A good medic is trained, not blessed by body construction and some unseen god floating invisible in the sky. Ridiculous! That is like saying that our preternaturally long lifespans is proof of the existence of the Death-bringer. Ugh! It annoys me to no end to hear otherwise intelligent people talking such nonsense."

The lift chimed and the doors opened. Ratchet walked inside, his hands still lifted to the sky in a gesture of annoyance.

[Optimus Prime]

Orion let out a light hum of thought when Ratchet mentioned Nova, his optics settling a short distance ahead of where they were walking. He had mixed feelings about the past Prime. Some of the ideals and concepts were sound, but the sheer over the top means in which they were pushed into motion was absurd. For example, the concept of 'All shall be one' could be seen as a unity of the people, and a drive to improve the lives of all around. Everyone equals upon their own right supporting one another. Not what Nova made it... it wasn't supposed to be the forced enslavement of other species to create conformity.

Nova had been so careful about hiding the true darkness of his actions up until the end; it was quite a shock when it had all come to light. It somewhat disillusioned the name of Prime in its own ways. But... Guardian had been so great though, how could anyone follow in his footsteps? Was it even fair to put any up to his standards? The bar raised so high that all that followed would be decapitated upon it? But there was not quite being as perfect, and doing what Nova did, especially with what he had Jhiaxus do...

"He failed to look ahead at what his actions could bring... now we must pick up the pieces. But that damage I see being minimal, compared to the damage I fear... other things... force to loom upon the horizon."

Orion said this a bit uneasily, his voice trailing off towards the end some as if he was second guessing speaking it, cutting off mentioning the Caste System. He was not as confident in outwardly saying anything that could be seen as going against the social norm or the word of the council or Prime. He had some challenging thoughts on the matter, and his own strong opinions, but didn't really have the social standing or boldness to stand up and speak against it at this time. The only reason he was even eluding to some of these internalized thoughts? Was because he trusted Ratchet as a friend to not hold it against him even if he was for the Caste System's implementation.

It seemed their conversation would be full of possible controversial traps however, for the mention of religion opened up a complete other pathway of hurdles to maneuver around and evaluate. Religion was just such an abstract concept, and was based in the foundations of belief and hope. Grand ideals from days long gone to bring forth the formation of what is current. Orion had other mixed feelings about it, and knew he had to speak cautiously.

"I do not believe, for example, your dexterity is proof of any deity, for forged or not one can be gifted with great talent to perform such intricate motions. However I do think there is reason for everything."

Orion took he few steps forward once the lift doors were opened, turning about to face forward as they began to close. He thought carefully about his words, optics settled down towards the bottom half of the entrance to the lift. He didn't want to look at Ratchet while he spoke, unsure how the other mech would respond.

"If I were to be trained professionally, I still do not believe my own hands could move with such skill and ingrained capacity."

He looked down at his lifted palm as he stated this, the plates of metal much different from Ratchet's own. It was flattened in general shape, each digit almost like panels themselves that were broad and squared off into a clunky design. It didn’t compare to Ratchet's rounded more slender digits. He would never be able to maneuver a tool like the other, but they could click down on keyboards swiftly just fine which served him and his job.

"You were created by whatever means with this ability, permitting certain doors to open, while others have talents they explore. It is by no means proof of a higher power, but it is a gift in its own right, from Primus, Fate, or straight up Luck is up to one's own discretion."

Orion's hand lowered back down to his side, fingers loosely curling a bit. Ratchet seemed exceptionally practical, matter-of-fact, and the way he called it nonsense made his stance on such subjects rather clear. Orion? Somewhat stood on both sides a bit. He was not religious in what one would equate with the word, but as he stated before? He strongly believed things happened for a reason. He believed there was some greater picture that none of them could see.

"But... this is merely my perspective."

[Deleted]

Though Ratchet grunted in reply, inwardly he was pleased by the kind words. He was already good now, and would be an excellent surgeon in the future. He knew it. He saw no reason to modestly shy from the praise.

He tapped the control screen to shut the doors and then selected the observatory level from the list of options. The lift whirred into life with barely a sound, just a whisper of impulse. As they ascended Ratchet raised his own hands and studied them, first the palms and then the backs. He curled his fingers. The knuckles responded with ease, a smooth mesh of tension and articulation. If there was every a more compelling argument that intelligent design was a product of their own invention and not that of an unseen deity than the fluid operation of their own hand-built frames, he had yet to encounter it.

Satisfied, Ratchet lowered his hands and leaned against the lift wall. He waved nonchalantly.

"'Merely your perspective', my foot," he said. "Don't sell yourself short, Orion. You speak more articulately and clearly on such subjects than half the other students in my class care to. I may not agree with everything you say, but I won't deny you put a good deal of thought and deliberation into it."

There was a subtle lurch as the lift slowed to a halt. A moment later the doors hissed open, revealing a vast and airy circular space, all gleaming metal and flawlessly clear iron glass from the arching walls up to the domed ceiling. The sky yawned above it, still red and gold with the light of the sunset that swept across Iacon. The city was a silhouette of violet shadows all around them, glittering with light.

In the middle of the observatory, within a ring of curving benches and seats, sat a massive holographic model of Cybertron. Buoyed on anti-grav, it hovered above its sleek plinth, gently fritzing now and then with static. Luna 1 and 2 circled it on their own programmed orbits, delicately translucent. A handful of stationary informational kiosks sat around the border of the room, their touchscreens glowing. Video newsfeeds ran on the monitors mounted evenly along the walls. Their flickering images reflected perfectly against the mirror-polished floors.

Without hesitation Ratchet made his way straight to one of the benches by the model. A handful of other students sat nearby. One of them waved to the medic and he returned the greeting with a brusque nod.

"Anyway, I don't know why you don't speak your mind about such matters more often," said Ratchet. He sat down in a slouch and stuck his legs out. "Officially, I mean. Every thought about that? Getting a little more into politics, I mean?"

He gave Orion a curious look.