[The weird, slightly formal texts are a huge sign to him that things are really not ok, and they probably wouldn't be for some time.
The picture brings mixed feelings. It's really sinking in that he more or less forced Sean to uproot his life. He feels awful. Even knowing Sean will be totally safe here, it's small comfort compared to how damned angry the man was at him. He almost doesn't text back more than a basic instruction.]
Just say the name of what you're using. Like "TV on" and that kind of thing. Refrigerator is still manual, just so that you can't accidentally order it to make a bunch of ice and dump it all over the floor. Think like the Enterprise.
[In fact, in between when Sean had requested information on CyberLife and when he'd received that text, the tablet display screen on the refrigerator itself had popped up an article detailing the basics of the company. They seem to have a sterling reputation and squeaky clean history. Their main products seem to be bioengineered products including replacement organs and other advancements in stem-cell research, prosthetics, home aids, and computer research for systems that would automate the home. Speculation in the last paragraphs of the article lead down even more sci-fi routes, touting research into AI-driven androids that could very well be integrated seamlessly into the general public as household appliances. Photos and names accompany it, including those Sean already knows: Amanda Stern and Elijah Kamski, the former an austere-looking black woman with model-esque poise, and a young man in glasses with long hair pulled back into a ponytail, in a simple tshirt and hoodie. Polar opposites and, apparently, close colleagues.
The people that had turned Connor into a maladjusted, but well-meaning boy.]
If you haven't started looking through the cupboards yet, there should be a lot of ready to eat stuff if you're hungry. You can also have food brought up from the kitchens. You should be able to bring up a menu on the fridge display.
[A few moments later, a forwarded attachment comes, a photo taken by Connor's friend of Musubi gnawing on a large treat stick. Something to maybe help ease the tension.]
no subject
The picture brings mixed feelings. It's really sinking in that he more or less forced Sean to uproot his life. He feels awful. Even knowing Sean will be totally safe here, it's small comfort compared to how damned angry the man was at him. He almost doesn't text back more than a basic instruction.]
Just say the name of what you're using. Like "TV on" and that kind of thing.
Refrigerator is still manual, just so that you can't accidentally order it to make a bunch of ice and dump it all over the floor.
Think like the Enterprise.
[In fact, in between when Sean had requested information on CyberLife and when he'd received that text, the tablet display screen on the refrigerator itself had popped up an article detailing the basics of the company. They seem to have a sterling reputation and squeaky clean history. Their main products seem to be bioengineered products including replacement organs and other advancements in stem-cell research, prosthetics, home aids, and computer research for systems that would automate the home. Speculation in the last paragraphs of the article lead down even more sci-fi routes, touting research into AI-driven androids that could very well be integrated seamlessly into the general public as household appliances. Photos and names accompany it, including those Sean already knows: Amanda Stern and Elijah Kamski, the former an austere-looking black woman with model-esque poise, and a young man in glasses with long hair pulled back into a ponytail, in a simple tshirt and hoodie. Polar opposites and, apparently, close colleagues.
The people that had turned Connor into a maladjusted, but well-meaning boy.]
If you haven't started looking through the cupboards yet, there should be a lot of ready to eat stuff if you're hungry. You can also have food brought up from the kitchens. You should be able to bring up a menu on the fridge display.
[A few moments later, a forwarded attachment comes, a photo taken by Connor's friend of Musubi gnawing on a large treat stick. Something to maybe help ease the tension.]