[ As K withdraws, Tech Boy turns his hands palms up in an expression somewhere between supplication and a shrug. This is why he finds explaining the nature of his godhood so frustrating. It's bizarre even to other gods. It's hard to put in the right words. And whatever is going on in K's mind right now and put the god solidly on the wrong foot. Again.
Tech Boy's relationship with music is a lot more complicated than he's letting on. Something something he needs the intelligent design present in a human or a complex AI to give it power and meaning because if a computer program writes it he may as well just do it himself and where's the fun in that something something, etc. But he can't read K's mind, and the spoken fear takes priority.
Concern overwrites any other emotion on his face. Hesitantly, he reaches out to place on hand over K's.
He opens his mouth to speak, closes it, frowns, then tries again. ]
It's not like that. You asked why I hate myself. Or the old versions of myself anyway. The--[ searching for the word ]--burden that humanity puts on me as a god is not something I'll ever demand from you. Fuck, I wouldn't even wish it on my enemies. If I fall behind, I'm toast. If I'm out-of-date and obsolete, I'm as good as dead. Or worse. Might as well play my fucking funeral song instead of my creation song.
[ He ducks his head to try and find eye contact with K. ] I don't feel the way I do about you because you're New. I fell in love with you because you're you. Would I have given you the time of day a hundred tears ago in the hospital of the Titanic were you not what you are? You're handsome, no doubt, but probably not. Sure, tech was the hook. But I stuck around because of who you are, not what you are. You will always be shiny and new to me. There's no replacing you. You're not an iPhone, no matter what those assholes back in your home world kept trying to tell you. Not to me.
[ He bends to kiss K's folded hands. Is he fucking this up? He really doesn't want to fuck this up. ]
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Tech Boy's relationship with music is a lot more complicated than he's letting on. Something something he needs the intelligent design present in a human or a complex AI to give it power and meaning because if a computer program writes it he may as well just do it himself and where's the fun in that something something, etc. But he can't read K's mind, and the spoken fear takes priority.
Concern overwrites any other emotion on his face. Hesitantly, he reaches out to place on hand over K's.
He opens his mouth to speak, closes it, frowns, then tries again. ]
It's not like that. You asked why I hate myself. Or the old versions of myself anyway. The--[ searching for the word ]--burden that humanity puts on me as a god is not something I'll ever demand from you. Fuck, I wouldn't even wish it on my enemies. If I fall behind, I'm toast. If I'm out-of-date and obsolete, I'm as good as dead. Or worse. Might as well play my fucking funeral song instead of my creation song.
[ He ducks his head to try and find eye contact with K. ] I don't feel the way I do about you because you're New. I fell in love with you because you're you. Would I have given you the time of day a hundred tears ago in the hospital of the Titanic were you not what you are? You're handsome, no doubt, but probably not. Sure, tech was the hook. But I stuck around because of who you are, not what you are. You will always be shiny and new to me. There's no replacing you. You're not an iPhone, no matter what those assholes back in your home world kept trying to tell you. Not to me.
[ He bends to kiss K's folded hands. Is he fucking this up? He really doesn't want to fuck this up. ]