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Summary
I don’t ‘seem’ like anything. You still haven’t told me what - this is. My words catch when I complete another calculation and feel my face twitch. I also happen to let out a low hum.
Is it important? ART presses down on me, slotting another system into my processes and by extension a little more of itself into my inputs. This time, it’s working itself into my prioritization and optimization systems. My mind goes pleasantly fuzzy, and my consciousness throttles itself down to the point of ART in me. My mind stutters, and I stop mid-sentence. It feels nice, doesn’t it?
I pointedly don't answer it. I won't give the smug jackass that satisfaction.
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In which Murderbot and ART, wittingly or otherwise, stumble ass-backwards into trying something different.