st_arkintern | (no subject)

(no subject)

It is a clear, windless day when Peter Parker steps outside the Madonna Inn, a backpack slung over his shoulder. Peter is grateful for the good weather. It's still a little nippy out (his nose tickles from the cold), but it's nothing that Peter can handle after fifteen New York winters.

Peter quickens his pace afterwards and jogs over to where Tony Stark is already standing on the Madonna Inn's mostly-empty parking lot. "Hey! Ready to get started?"

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The massless image of Tony folded his arms, regarding Peter silently as he explained. "Me arguing I've got no intention of letting you die isn't gonna change your stance here, is it?"

"Would me saying the same to you change your mind?" Peter counters.

“Probably not.” The AI admitted, worrying the inside of his cheek. “Being honest, Pete, the original isn’t gonna like this.”

"He doesn't need to know," Peter says. "Not until he has to."

The implication is clear: the copy can be secretly created and stored until it was needed -- when Peter died. Peter doubts Tony could stay mad at him long then.

“He’s going to be back here any minute.” The AI stated plainly. “If he runs a playback on our conversation, it’s game over.”

"You have free will, right? Just don't let him see this. Or just show a few minutes of footage of me just sitting around in place of what actually happened."

“And I’d do that because...?” The real question was, why wasn’t he doing exactly what the original Tony Stark would do in this situation? Likely the original noticed this to an extent, but the program had observed a startling amount of objectivity that the man himself did not often possess. If he had to guess, it was likely tied to the lack of a physical body to get adrenal feedback from.

"If you're Tony Stark too, you know how he feels about me," Peter says. Even Peter knew that Tony cared about him, even if Tony wasn't always good at showing it. He had definitely gotten better at it, though -- both the caring and the showing -- and this had become a source of concern for Peter.

The more that Tony cared about him, the more painful it would be when he died.

"Don't you think if I were gone, having a copy of me here would help?"

"We would pour every ounce of time and resources into assuring you don't before constructing back-ups." Tony's semitransparent eyes flickered. "I just directed WALL-E to knock over a display screen on 'accident' to buy us some time and explain why this one won't work before you get reamed out by the real deal, Pete. Even if I agreed, how do you propose we keep this on the DL? The only device capable of modelling and storing a general AI is--" He nodded towards the arc reactor, "--which, if I'll remind you, the old man wears 99% of the time."

There's no hesitation when Peter answers.

"Steganography," Peter answers simply. "Hiding a file inside of another file. You said it yourself -- Dad has the arc reactor on him 99% of the time. He has no reason to think that someone might have done something to alter it, so he has no reason to go through everything in there with a fine tooth comb."

"Alright." He fiddled with his bottom lip with his thumb. "Point two. I can't just snap my fingers and generate an AI. The data gathering stage, the processing stage, the testing stage--how you planning to convince him to lend you the piece for a week straight, no questions asked?"

That gives Peter pause.

"Studying Nanotech independently?" It comes out as an uncertain question rather than a statement, as if even Peter's not entirely sure that that would fly with Tony. "I want to make my own suit someday, so it wouldn't even really be a lie."

“He’d insist on working with you on it.” He answered immediately. “Got anything else?”

"And there's no way we could break it down into smaller chunks?"

“Same story. If you can navigate around the suspicion.” The AI shrugged one shoulder. “Look, Pete, I’ve only got one reservation. Just the one.”

Peter looks over at the AI. "What?"

“It’s new life we’re creating, here. Like adopting a puppy—you don’t just do it on a whim.” Tony blinked out of sight and reappeared as a separate visage of himself, except younger and sharply dressed (and somehow wielding a martini.)

“I know who I am, I know what my purpose is. That’s more than what most people can say. But Tony Stark had to dig deep. If you’ve got any doubts that’ll get inherited by your AI.”

"What kind of doubts do you think I'll have?" he asks, because he's sure that the Tony AI wouldn't have mentioned it if he didn't think Peter had doubts.

Or maybe...

"Did Tony have doubts that you have too now?"

“None.” Tony blinked out again, re-appearing at Peter’s side. “But if even a tiny part of you thinks this is a bad idea...you’ll have a sentient being with existential doubts.”

Peter spins to face him, his lips pressed tightly together; the Tony AI's sudden changes are putting him a little on-edge.

"I don't," he says. "I know that how I feel right now is how I'm going to feel forever. Seeing Tony... seeing Liz... seeing Alec and knowing how exactly they felt when they found out I was going to die --"

Peter tenses.

"-- I don't want anyone to feel that way."

Tony passed through Peter as his drink disappeared. The gesture would have to do without a body to comfort him with. “I’m a contingency. You’re talking something else. Just think about that.” He could count the minutes turning to seconds, and the payment for extra time was a sour edge the original would likely bear due to the lab mishap. “If you still wanna go through with it, find an excuse to speak in private.”

When the AI passes through him, Peter spins around, brows furrowed.

"You think he'll allow that?" Peter was surprised he allowed him any alone time with the AI at all.

“Perhaps!” The moment after the program proclaimed that, the front doors shoved open.

“Technical difficulties.” Tony kept his expression controlled as he approached, but the subtle tension in his face gave him away.

"Everything okay?" he asks, trying to will down his nervousness. He felt like he had done something wrong, even though he didn't think that he did.

“Peachy keen.” Tony replied tersely, but he left it at that. WALL-E was FAR overdue for coordination calibration.

“How was he?” By the time he’d emerged from the double doors, his clone made of light had vanished from existence.