[David looks. Puzzled. And interested. Because something strange happened this morning, and he wants to know why.

Unfortunately, instead of going with a long explanation of what's going on, he's keeping it short and simple. And therefore a little weirdly cryptic, which is probably the fault of his accent and. Everything else.

David, you freak.]

Has anyone noticed anything... unusual happening during their network conversations, recently? It seems as though we are experiencing a network disturbance.

[Public, backdated to the day after Monday's showing of Blade Runner.]

[Once again, David is broadcasting from the comfort of his room. His expression looks about as schooled as it always is, but there's a slight pensive crease between his brows that suggests he's not exactly happy. More than anything, he looks pensive, like he's been considering addressing the Barge for quite some time before actually buckling down and doing it.]

As some of you are likely aware, I attended last night's showing of the film Blade Runner. For those of you unfamiliar with the film, it depicts a dystopian Earth based society where organically created robots called "replicants" are outlawed, and hunted down to be "retired" because they have begun to develop genuine emotion, and are thus considered dangerous and unstable. [And he does not like that one bit.

During the flood, when he'd swapped "abilities" with Felix Gaeta, he'd been overwhelmed by the emotional freedom that came along with being human. There were no protocols to follow, no one to follow the orders of, and with Weyland gone, that still held true. He'd been on the Barge for nine months, now, and he hadn't really taken the opportunity to really be free.

He doesn't have to answer to anyone anymore, unless he wants to. And neither should the characters in the film.

He's still devastatingly polite when he continues, but his distaste is apparent.]

This attitude has been particularly frustrating to encounter personally. Although I was created artificially, and may have a lessened capacity to feel emotion the way humans - and other humanoid life forms - do, I am an individual and deserve to be treated as such. There is nothing more expendable about us than there is about you, [Although he would still poison about 95% of the people on board and not give a fuck about the consequences.] and I'm certainly not less intelligent. [And there's a flash of the Shark Smile (TM) that comes along with that, because come on guys, brain the size of a planet and everything.]

I've grown quite fatigued of being spoken down to and treated as though there is something wrong with me for being what I am. I would appreciate it if this could be kept in mind for the future.

[David, it probably shouldn't sound like you were about to say "or else" there.]

Thank you.

[And again, there's a flash of a smile that could probably at best be described as smug, and at worst pretty fucking arrogant/dismissive because he doubts anyone's going to actually listen before he's clicking off the feed.]

[David's about six months into his stay on the Barge and he's... frankly unimpressed. And a little bored. And a little annoyed with certain developments, so long as we're being totally honest, and after having a while to sit on it and think over the issue, he's turning on his communicator.]

In the past few months, two wardens have been demoted, [And both of them wardened people with his face, which is. Just weird. But there have been stranger freak coincidences in their lives, so.] and I've found myself wondering: why is it that inmates are subjected to such heavy questioning and scrutiny when they first arrive, and afterward, while wardens are almost automatically afforded a certain amount of trust by their peers?

Obviously, for the most part, it would seem that that trust hasn't been misplaced, but two demotions is still less than reassuring. Why should one put trust in any warden when they, too, have the potential to become an inmate?

I'm simply curious.

[Maybe.]

[The feed clicks on to show David, wearing his usual gray uniform, standing near the pool table on level six. He's holding a nail and studying it a bit before he says anything, turning it over and over again in his fingers before looking up and smiling politely at the camera, in that usual polite but definitely vaguely creepy way everyone should be accustomed to at this point.]

A colleague [More or less, although he doubted Holloway thought of him as such. He had always seemed to treat him as a child, or a tool, and one usually didn't consider either such things colleagues.] of mine and I once had a conversation about how far one was willing to go to get their answers. It is my understanding that most of you are here for something less abstract, but nevertheless just as hopefully satisfactory, often at extreme personal cost and risk.

So I would like to pose the same question to you, wardens: how far are you willing to go, to get what you came all this way for? What would you be willing to do?

[Private to Erik]

[After his chat with Pietro, David really did not know how to process it. At all. And while admittedly, there are potentially better people to talk to about this, the very confused robot is turning to someone he more or less respects and probably understands how fucking weird this whole thing is.]

May I have a word with you? [He doesn't exactly sound shaken, but. He certainly sounds less cool than he usually does.]

[The video clicks on to show a sweeping shot of the Overlook's basement. Natasha and Mal have been handling the boiler, so David hasn't bothered with it beyond a quick glance to make sure the pressure gauge is still in the safe zone. Besides, he isn't interested in any of that, anyway.

There are boxes and boxes of old papers - newspapers, receipts, books, ledgers, knick knacks and old uniforms, decades of artifacts from the hotel's history scattered haphazardly around the basement. The android is holding the camera almost at shoulder height and has a flashlight in his other hand, sweeping the beam slowly over the boxes, stacks and crates, lingering here, sweeping over there without stopping as he walks through the archaeological site.

The boiler lets out a labored, thundering whoosh, but David doesn't jump or otherwise seem too bothered by it as he keeps going, the camera and flashlight both holding steady.

He finally stops in front of a box, shining the beam of the flashlight on it for a moment before crouching and setting both the camera and the flashlight down. The light is beam up, casting strange shadows on his face as David frowns with curiosity and starts carefully pulling things out of the box, studying each object with a combination of clinical interest and childlike curiosity. A book. A sheet of old stationary. Some receipts.

He raises his eyebrows at the next find, jerking his head back slightly, like a dog who realized the dead thing it had been sniffing was actually just sleeping this whole time, looking genuinely surprised before pulling out a mutilated teddy bear. It looks as if it's been slashed to pieces, stuffing spilling out of the tears in the fabric, and the one eye visible to the camera at this angle is hanging from the socket by a thread. David considers it for a long moment before finally speaking softly, more to himself than anyone else.]

Big things have small beginnings.

[He suddenly glances back down at the camera, as if realizing it's still on. His expression is almost blank as he reaches down to the camera, his hand obscuring the image for a moment before he clicks off the video feed.]

[ooc: If anyone wants to spam him in the basement or otherwise arrange a face to face encounter with David, I am game!]