[Private to Mira]

I need to speak with you.

[Public]

[David is in his room, standing in front of the giant window, which is currently just displaying the stars outside the Barge instead of one of the artificial environments it usually shows. He looks... normal, really, just like David usually does, but there's something a little bit different about this message.

It's the last one he's planning on making for quite a while.]

I am four years, three months, and twenty four days old.

[One corner of his mouth lifts in an almost annoyed smirk.] I am aware I don't especially look, or act my age.

In my world, I'm certain I would be considered obsolete by now, with or without my creator. Other models were already in production by the time the first David 8 was released. Before I arrived on this ship, I had only been interacting regularly with humans face to face for a few days. I have been on board for one year, eleven months, and six days.

[He's boiling down to one message, and it's simple and difficult to admit, because it means admitting he's wrong, and he's never wanted to do that.]

I'm leaving.

[So there's that.]

I've discussed my departure with Mira, and Erik had offered me a place in his world. I don't believe I am capable of helping an inmate until I better understand what it means to be an individual, instead of someone who is only beginning to understand it himself.

[Because he is one, he's always known that, but he doesn't really understand how to help give Mira a purpose when he doesn't really have one of his own. He can empathize, but he can't really help.

Maybe he'll be back. But for now, he knows this is for the best.]

[David looks pretty much the same as he always does, standing in his room with the video feed turned on. There's no physical difference, and sometimes, it seems like there isn't much mental or emotional difference, either, but he knows how much he's changed. He's much more... content now, and he knows if given a second chance, he would do things much differently.]

I thought it prudent to announce that I've graduated. Erik has offered me a place in his world, once I'm ready to leave the Barge. [And it's an offer he's definitely planning on taking him up on once he is ready to leave.]

But for the time being, [He does have one thing he'd been willing to stay here for.] I've chosen to stay.

I'm very much looking forward to working with all of you.

[He smiles, and it's definitely still more than a little smug - some things probably won't ever chance - but it's a little softer. Less like he might steal your kidney.]

And I don't think I ever properly thanked you for your gift, Chris. It's quite... something.

[Private to the Admiral]

I would like a key to both the Infirmary and the Laboratory, please.

[David has been in the infirmary since the door opened. As an inmate - both here and on the other Barge - he hasn't had access to any of the dangerous supplies, but he's done his best to keep things tidy and organized, ready for the (inevitable) flood of people who will be filing in with the injured and the dead.

When the Barge rights itself, he blinks and takes a moment to take stock of the situation before clicking on his communicator.]

The infirmary is open, and back to normal, if anyone is in need of medical attention. The death toll also appears to be functional once more.

Dr. Banner, I would appreciate hearing from you at your earliest convenience.

[Private to Erik]

[And now he clicks on a filter, and is providing you with a view of a cleaned up, clearly alive if unconscious Charles, tucked into a bed in the infirmary.]

I hope you're well.

[ooc: David is available for spam, but since he is not officially on infirmary duty, he doesn't have access to things like painkillers. Still, he will happily(ish...) bring you other things if you ask nicely. c:]

[David couldn't really give two shits about it being Father's Day or not, but Harvey's post does kind of start the old gears whirring, particularly in the wake of the conversation he had with Shaw.]

In most human cultures, there is a particular emphasis on honoring thy mother and father. Interesting that that concept has apparently been condensed into a more or less meaningless two days of exchanging gifts.

[He says "interesting" in a way that means he really thinks you're all full of absolute bullshit.]

I wish I could say I understood having enthusiasm for recognizing the accomplishments of your creator. [And that's delivered in his usual dry, slightly bored tone, because he might be bitter as fuck about this concept when it's not like Weyland ever acknowledged what David was capable of, but he doesn't want to talk about it with all of you, so he's masking it like he usually does.

A pause.]

Chromie has not reported to the library. [So someone might want to go check on that.]

[Private to Erik]

[He's not really sure what to say about this, for quite a number of reasons, but.]

What was it like, being able to speak with him afterward?

[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.]