It's kind of nice. Kal-El. Just in this context, it's kind of nice, and reminds him of the easy affection with which the copy of Jor-El that harboured so much intelligence and feeling and kindness called him 'Kal'. It is a mere sliver of a memory, but something of a precious one, too.
It makes Scout Ship 0344 feel like a kind of home, anyway, inasmuch as a gigantic spaceship made up of cold silver caverns can.
And Kelex is being sassy. Clark stands, arms folded but expression gentle and querying. "The data has yet to be properly analysed," she says in smooth Kryptonian. "It remains speculative. It should not be disseminated widely until charting of implication and outcome has been completed by specialised personnel."
"This isn't widely, Kelex," Clark says, patient. "And there is no personnel left. What are you worried will happen?"
"Incomplete projections may cause fragmentation. The data is corrupt and incomplete."
"We aren't Luthor," he says, and wonders if it's his imagination, or if Kelex does actually ripple, just slightly. Irritation, revulsion? "Specifically: I'm not."
Bruce figures it's not objecting to Clark so much as the human it must only have the strangest of logs about. Merged with records of the first human who was given control of the ship by a less-discerning AI, and he can be sympathetic to the evasive action. This ship has been made to do strange and unbelievable things so far on Earth; only Kelex knows the full extent of how more strange, and how more unbelievable, they can get.
Anyway. All three of them are speaking Kryptonian, so surely that's a point in the inferior human's favor.
Kelex very neutrally says, "Yes," and Clark is pretty sure that the variant they're using is the English equivalent of an impatient of course.
"You gave him a warning," Clark says, his voice gentle and kind, as he'd speak to anything actually alive. As far as he's concerned, Kryptonians mastered sentient artificial intelligence a long time ago, clearly. "Against following a path that was taken anyway. We just want to listen. And—"
A beat, and he doesn't look back at Bruce or anything as he adds, "Maybe there's data we can provide in return."
The AI simply continues to hover, still and faceless, and yet Bruce finds himself anthropomorphizing it as thinking. Regarding them suspiciously. Robots don't have feelings, he reminds himself, even as that seems to be an unwise and cynical hill to die on, between the mysteries of Kryptonian advancement and the young man they're invoking.
Gliding slowly back, as though pushed by a gentle tide, Kelex says, "The great work of Krypton, until the descent that brought her demise, was to erase all variables of the future. Everyone and everything in its place, so that the spear thrust forward was one under total control.
The chamber in this ship is a remnant of old ways. It is forbidden to experiment with such chaos. You have already experienced why."
"Dark magic and superstitions," Bruce murmurs, dry. "Let us de-mystify it."
"Please," Clark echoes, like maybe some manners will help.
But it's not just manners. It's becoming clearer to him that what they're asking flies in the face of what Kelex is programmed to preserve, in the same way that his existence does too. Every time some new revelation of what was core to Krypton comes to light, it becomes easier to understand why he was propelled away from it at great speed. But even Jor-El couldn't help but take care of some remaining connection, to ensure Clark knew where he came from.
Maybe that was a mistake. Another trapping, a blind spot. But Jor-El never claimed to be anything but fallible, unlike his brethren. "There's no one left to claim anything forbidden," he says. "There's no great work to protect, anymore. But there's Earth. And I was sent to protect that. I have to believe that's still true, and I need to know how to keep it true."
Will there ever be a day when the reminder doesn't send a pang of guilt through him. Maybe not. Bruce thinks it might be for the best that he always feels like, and never becomes numb to his failures. Find the line between torturing himself and staying in check. (Just takes your medication and don't take it with alcohol, perhaps, Mr Wayne.)
But it pushes his thoughts in a direction that brings him to say: "You were Jor-El's assistant. We're speaking to his goals. I know that you had to be rebuilt patchwork between the remnants of that and the keepers in the ship, but you'll have to decide who and what you are, and let the rest be a tool."
Too bad, that they weren't able to recover the echo of Jor himself, but Zod's purge had been too thorough for it. Bruce watches Kelex, and the silvery teardrop moves nearer to Clark - Kal, he reminds himself - before going away again, more purpose to its unearthly hovering.
"What you seek is not fully operable," Kelex tells them. But all the same, the display shifts, solid mercury wall beginning to form a map of some inner part of the ship, chambers and equipment, some of which he's glimpsed before, but mostly not.
Clark turns to study the map. He has at minimum entered every chamber within this ship, even if some of them are completely disabled, and their function opaque. He's also spent many hours with Kelex, even before it was Kelex, hovering over his shoulder and guiding him through some maintenance, which is the reason why the interior doesn't feel just as cold, if not colder, than the snowy wastes outside.
"What did they use these for?" asks Clark.
"Multitudinous purpose," Kelex says, its voice serene. "Education. Interfacing with complex internal systems for the purposes of improvement and maintenance. Harmonic alignment. Intellectual and imaginative stimulation. Interrogation and proc—"
"Sounds great," says Clark. "Thank you. Can you help us make it operable?"
Kelex swims around to hover by his shoulder, as if to look at the map itself along with him. As neutrally as a robot can be: "If that is what you want."
Bruce does not smile, even if that impolitely polite interruption is all Kansas, and worth the facial expression. He'd rather not antagonize the AI.
"That is what he wants."
Yes, he's figured out the pecking order here. Even if part of him regrets allowing the ship's native AI to be so overridden by Kelex, as that one was a pushover. But it also was ten thousand years out of date, and not as helpful. Definitely not as secure, either; he doubts the assistant perched in the air at Clark's shoulder would have allowed Luthor to do what he did.
He moves forward and reached out to interact with the display, nudging it to highlight what's broken. None of which is going to be available at a local hardware store. Probably not even if they rob STAR Labs and its projects in progress. He hms.
Kal-El will confess that he doesn't mind Kelex playing favourites, if pressed, maybe after some dithery assurance that it totally doesn't play favourites. But not much dithering. This is due to both the obvious reasons and also the fact that the original AI had so strongly advised against his existence.
This is a better change of pace. Not quite like a new puppy, or anything, but an extremely aloof house cat that's chosen you as its person.
He presses a thin smile to Bruce and watches what he does, a smile that then fades at the sight of a perplexed Batman. "What is it?"
It's the El family pet robot, Kal should get to be the favorite. Bat-the-hu-Man will just have to earn the respect of an arguably sentient alien smartphone GPS the hard way, with patience and character. Good thing he is so normal and likeable.
"Am I right in thinking these indicate a need for repair, and these are missing or totally destroyed?" first, a clarification aimed at Kelex, who responds in the affirmative.
He looks at Clark. "I can probably convert the results of a Kryptonian diagnostic to what's hypothetically capable on Earth, but finding the parts is something else. This will be a longer project than either of us anticipated, probably."
Clark considers that seriously, gaze flicking to the wall of shifting mercury. He asks, query directed towards Kelex, "Are you able to draw up, um," the 'um' is in English, for the record, "schematics of any parts beyond repair? Do we have materials that we could repurpose?"
"This can be provided," Kelex affirms. "Along with an overview of compatible materials that can be found both on this ship and on earth, along with those that cannot."
He lets go of a breath, and looks to Bruce. Yes, a long project, but, "It'd be worth it," he says, all earnest eyebrows, quiet certainty.
If Bruce were the type, he'd be tapping his fingers nervously right now, not out of true anxiety, but his mind working too quickly in too many directions. He isn't, so he remains still and undisturbed, but he's still. Thinkingthinking. The ways they could substitute this or that. The time it's going to take. Prioritizing what to fix.
When he looks at Clark, his earnestness, he thinks even more.
"It'll be worth it," he agrees. "Even if not for what we've been thinking about."
It'll simply be worth it for Clark, and for the remains of Krypton. Then—
"Kelex, do you mean compatible materials on Earth as in, naturally occurring resources on the planet, or remains from other points of contact with celestially foreign bodies?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It makes Scout Ship 0344 feel like a kind of home, anyway, inasmuch as a gigantic spaceship made up of cold silver caverns can.
And Kelex is being sassy. Clark stands, arms folded but expression gentle and querying. "The data has yet to be properly analysed," she says in smooth Kryptonian. "It remains speculative. It should not be disseminated widely until charting of implication and outcome has been completed by specialised personnel."
"This isn't widely, Kelex," Clark says, patient. "And there is no personnel left. What are you worried will happen?"
"Incomplete projections may cause fragmentation. The data is corrupt and incomplete."
no subject
Bruce figures it's not objecting to Clark so much as the human it must only have the strangest of logs about. Merged with records of the first human who was given control of the ship by a less-discerning AI, and he can be sympathetic to the evasive action. This ship has been made to do strange and unbelievable things so far on Earth; only Kelex knows the full extent of how more strange, and how more unbelievable, they can get.
Anyway. All three of them are speaking Kryptonian, so surely that's a point in the inferior human's favor.
"Do you remember Victor Stone?"
no subject
"You gave him a warning," Clark says, his voice gentle and kind, as he'd speak to anything actually alive. As far as he's concerned, Kryptonians mastered sentient artificial intelligence a long time ago, clearly. "Against following a path that was taken anyway. We just want to listen. And—"
A beat, and he doesn't look back at Bruce or anything as he adds, "Maybe there's data we can provide in return."
no subject
Gliding slowly back, as though pushed by a gentle tide, Kelex says, "The great work of Krypton, until the descent that brought her demise, was to erase all variables of the future. Everyone and everything in its place, so that the spear thrust forward was one under total control.
The chamber in this ship is a remnant of old ways. It is forbidden to experiment with such chaos. You have already experienced why."
"Dark magic and superstitions," Bruce murmurs, dry. "Let us de-mystify it."
no subject
But it's not just manners. It's becoming clearer to him that what they're asking flies in the face of what Kelex is programmed to preserve, in the same way that his existence does too. Every time some new revelation of what was core to Krypton comes to light, it becomes easier to understand why he was propelled away from it at great speed. But even Jor-El couldn't help but take care of some remaining connection, to ensure Clark knew where he came from.
Maybe that was a mistake. Another trapping, a blind spot. But Jor-El never claimed to be anything but fallible, unlike his brethren. "There's no one left to claim anything forbidden," he says. "There's no great work to protect, anymore. But there's Earth. And I was sent to protect that. I have to believe that's still true, and I need to know how to keep it true."
no subject
Will there ever be a day when the reminder doesn't send a pang of guilt through him. Maybe not. Bruce thinks it might be for the best that he always feels like, and never becomes numb to his failures. Find the line between torturing himself and staying in check. (Just takes your medication and don't take it with alcohol, perhaps, Mr Wayne.)
But it pushes his thoughts in a direction that brings him to say: "You were Jor-El's assistant. We're speaking to his goals. I know that you had to be rebuilt patchwork between the remnants of that and the keepers in the ship, but you'll have to decide who and what you are, and let the rest be a tool."
Too bad, that they weren't able to recover the echo of Jor himself, but Zod's purge had been too thorough for it. Bruce watches Kelex, and the silvery teardrop moves nearer to Clark - Kal, he reminds himself - before going away again, more purpose to its unearthly hovering.
"What you seek is not fully operable," Kelex tells them. But all the same, the display shifts, solid mercury wall beginning to form a map of some inner part of the ship, chambers and equipment, some of which he's glimpsed before, but mostly not.
no subject
"What did they use these for?" asks Clark.
"Multitudinous purpose," Kelex says, its voice serene. "Education. Interfacing with complex internal systems for the purposes of improvement and maintenance. Harmonic alignment. Intellectual and imaginative stimulation. Interrogation and proc—"
"Sounds great," says Clark. "Thank you. Can you help us make it operable?"
Kelex swims around to hover by his shoulder, as if to look at the map itself along with him. As neutrally as a robot can be: "If that is what you want."
no subject
"That is what he wants."
Yes, he's figured out the pecking order here. Even if part of him regrets allowing the ship's native AI to be so overridden by Kelex, as that one was a pushover. But it also was ten thousand years out of date, and not as helpful. Definitely not as secure, either; he doubts the assistant perched in the air at Clark's shoulder would have allowed Luthor to do what he did.
He moves forward and reached out to interact with the display, nudging it to highlight what's broken. None of which is going to be available at a local hardware store. Probably not even if they rob STAR Labs and its projects in progress. He hms.
no subject
This is a better change of pace. Not quite like a new puppy, or anything, but an extremely aloof house cat that's chosen you as its person.
He presses a thin smile to Bruce and watches what he does, a smile that then fades at the sight of a perplexed Batman. "What is it?"
no subject
"Am I right in thinking these indicate a need for repair, and these are missing or totally destroyed?" first, a clarification aimed at Kelex, who responds in the affirmative.
He looks at Clark. "I can probably convert the results of a Kryptonian diagnostic to what's hypothetically capable on Earth, but finding the parts is something else. This will be a longer project than either of us anticipated, probably."
no subject
"This can be provided," Kelex affirms. "Along with an overview of compatible materials that can be found both on this ship and on earth, along with those that cannot."
He lets go of a breath, and looks to Bruce. Yes, a long project, but, "It'd be worth it," he says, all earnest eyebrows, quiet certainty.
no subject
When he looks at Clark, his earnestness, he thinks even more.
"It'll be worth it," he agrees. "Even if not for what we've been thinking about."
It'll simply be worth it for Clark, and for the remains of Krypton. Then—
"Kelex, do you mean compatible materials on Earth as in, naturally occurring resources on the planet, or remains from other points of contact with celestially foreign bodies?"
"Both."