"You misunderstand," Rey says calmly, her arms hugging over her chest, shoulders squared and tense. She isn't angry; doesn't let her emotions get the best of her. How could she expect someone who doesn't know her, or the history of her world, to just get it?
Save for maybe the AI in this room, which Rey does everything she can to try and shut it out of her own cybernetic brain. Her father may be a flawed man, may be the cause of the state of the world as it is, but Lucas Coffey has centuries of experience with technology to have safely secured that part of Rey's cerebral coding from third party interference. It should be safe. Should be...
"It's not the technology itself. Hell, am part of that technology," she continues, deciding that she at least owes some examination. "It's what someone intends to do with that technology. Use it to control people. Control you. Make you do whatever they want, even things you never wanted to do." Her jaw tightens, fingers clench, nails dig into her sides and she seethes between her biting teeth as she forces herself to admit: "There is nothing worse than being a prisoner inside your own body."
It'd been that way for most of her lives. It should be different, but she can't help but worry that there might be a vulnerability that can be exploited someday. That she'd have been better off dead than to take that risk.
no subject
Save for maybe the AI in this room, which Rey does everything she can to try and shut it out of her own cybernetic brain. Her father may be a flawed man, may be the cause of the state of the world as it is, but Lucas Coffey has centuries of experience with technology to have safely secured that part of Rey's cerebral coding from third party interference. It should be safe. Should be...
"It's not the technology itself. Hell, am part of that technology," she continues, deciding that she at least owes some examination. "It's what someone intends to do with that technology. Use it to control people. Control you. Make you do whatever they want, even things you never wanted to do." Her jaw tightens, fingers clench, nails dig into her sides and she seethes between her biting teeth as she forces herself to admit: "There is nothing worse than being a prisoner inside your own body."
It'd been that way for most of her lives. It should be different, but she can't help but worry that there might be a vulnerability that can be exploited someday. That she'd have been better off dead than to take that risk.