Work Text:
as you crouched your eyes wandered to every inch of the bottom shelf of the display, dozens of flavors of that sticky, so cold it burns drink of mtn dew, mind racing with the possibilities of each and every one. you would pick one out, turn around the bottle in your hand for a bit just long enough to not look suspicious or creepy about bottles of mtn dew but long enough for your squip to give you the rundown on each iteration.
the idea that a different flavor was basically a trial run of dlc for the supercomputer that lived along side you was kind of insane and you were so, terribly curious about it, and after some convincing you got the squip to go along with it too, so long as you promised to be careful in no matter the state they found themself in, and you knew the risks yourself. you were careful to avoid any that seemed the slightest bit dangerous (the infrequent but painfully memorable migraines that came from system updates made you too scared to take a single risk with this thing) and the squip would explain any info he had on them, connected to a database of other of his kind who had experienced it. you wondered if they had some sort of social media they posted about it on and it made you chuckle.
“its just a filing system, not twitter.” he intruded on your thoughts.
you went back to your pilfering, making your choice on what seemed the safest option for now, throwback, something about making him a little more easy going and, in the words of another squip located in the mind of an influencer in malibu, “hazed in a drunken, lovesick stupor not unlike a girl writing her crush’s name over and over like in the cinema”, however the descriptor did not seem to portray it in a negative light.
all these flavors, these ideas of what he might end up being, even just for a bit got you thinking about any...longterm effects, anything that would linger even just for a bit that could potentially backfire.
“make no mistake,” he said, once again interfering with your inner voice that seemed to get a little quieter every day, “though these do conflict with my ‘personality’, none of these have any adverse effects on our directive. they cant make me do anything you don’t want me to.”
“okay...” you spoke up, in your mind of course. talking out loud to this guy was a no-go, you spoke to yourself enough as a kid to get called weird, you didn’t want strangers at a 7/11 to think so little of you, “what about what you want? these won’t interfere with that, right?”
“...” he seemed to cock his head a bit, eyebrows furrowing as if he didn’t hear you right, “i’m not sure i understand. our directive is what i follow. wanting is out of my hands.”
“i mean there’s gotta be something you wanna do, right dude?” you pushed yourself off the floor, stumbling back as you felt just how long you were down there, your legs jelly and only a little stingey. “i mean like, youre a supercomputer. youre learning new shit every day, there isn’t anything of that you wanna do yourself?”
for once, he seemed to look downright clueless. it was so strange, he always had a snappy retort or hyperintelligent, collected response to any of your ‘odd’ questions, but for once he looked...stumped. he has seen every possible outcome to this conversation, you know that, but its like you just picked the very least possible question to ask.
“i...i don’t think i...know?” it was said more like a question, the idea that he didnt know seemed to shock him more than it did you.
you didn’t know what you were supposed to say, or what he was banking on you to say in the timeline where this conversation got to end before he had to stop relying on the algorithm to carry it, but you just sighed, and turned around to the cash register. “well, cmon, lets go get me stoned, get you sloshed and figure it out together, k?” you glanced back down the aisle to see the hazy figure of your squip still standing there, until catching up, not just blink and hes right in front of you, but looking down at the tile, as if trying to think something over.