capitalh | come one come all to newts chop shop

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come one come all to newts chop shop

Who: Newt Geiszler, Kit Peddler and YOU
Where: Newt's clinic in the shady part of China town that Newt sort of lives in.
When: Pretty much whenever. The clinic is open five days a week, and this is a catchall.
What: Newt's clinic is still open for all wayward aliens, robots and cyborgs to be seen to without questions for free. Kit is his rude secretary hacker who is also pretty good (better) at fixing up the cyborgs.
Warnings: Bullshit science and Newt is a warning on his own, but will update if medical stuff happens.

[there's a few thread-starters within, but please feel free to hit this up!! The clinic's location is easy to get a hold of for anyone who needs it and a google search of Newt will reveal that he's actually really great at what he does and has lots of credibility as well as 6 pHDs. Back and Post dating is fine, just let me know!]

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[he opens his mouth to argue, but his brain finally connects with the situation. Orion had come to him as a hologram first too, because their actual forms were way too big to get into the building. He fixed his mess? They had a medic? --woah wait mess?!]

Mess?! Okay, asshole. He could hear out of it! It wasn't my best work, gotta say but, I think for someone who's never even seen an autonomous robotic lifeform before I did pretty good! It's not exactly like there's a manual for you guys!

I thought Drift had done the repair at first. [You don't know what an insult that is, Newt, so he'll just move on.] But it was functional. It surprised me to hear that a human had fixed it, I hadn't thought technology on this planet had advanced that far.

[Ratchet takes a better look at the desk, and the hand Newt's been building, his eyes narrowing with interest before he turns to Newt again.]

Are you building all of this yourself, from memory?

[The fact that he's not really arguing back has him deflate a little--mostly because having screaming matches with other scientists is sort of his thing--but he does huff, crossing his tattooed arms.]

Regular humans aren't that advanced. [PLS. When Ratchet continues, he rolls his eyes and looks offended.]

Duh. What else would I be doing? Like I said, advanced human. Six pHDs. C'mon.

[His desire to argue is overriding his desire to ask Ratchet more about Cybertronians. Goddamnit Newton.]

[Ratchet's eyes glint faintly and he has to fight to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up as Newt sulks, arching an eyebrow.]

You're talking to me like I wasn't just getting out of medical school when your species had barely figured out how wheels work. [He touches his fingertips lightly to one of the other sketches, turning it around to look at it right-side up and watching Newt from the corner of his eye.]

[that has Newt's back going up, and he leans back in his chair. Wow, this dude is just leaning--no, draping--right across his desk and he has to stare for a moment before his nose crinkles up.]

Wow, so your degree must be way outdated then, huh. And only one, right? Sucks to be you Grandpa.

Yeah, it's funny how the complete destruction of your planet, civilization, and culture can put a damper on the accessibility of higher education.

[Ratchet's voice chills slightly and he straightens, folding his own arms.]

Do you want to learn more about cyberbiology or not, kid? If you're not interested, I'm wasting my time here.

[he opens his mouth to say something but them promptly shuts it with a click. How was he supposed to know their planet exploded or whatever. He huffs a little, looking to one side, almost like a petulant child.]

I'm not a kid. [he's had too many people call him that for too long, and being almost forty he thought he'd be over that.] But yeah. I do. I mean, I wouldn't be the top xenobiologist if I didn't wanna, dude.

Edited 2014-08-28 20:04 (UTC)

Huh. I think four thousand years of experience as a field medic makes up for any gaps in my education, at any rate.

[Ratchet raises his eyebrows at Newt, politely skeptical.]

For a top xenobiologist with a project and an expert standing right in front of you, you sure aren't asking a lot of questions.

Dude, how long do you guys even live? Because that's crazy. How do you even have the memory capacity for that long? Do you have to download all your memories and then upload them somewhere or is it like a hivemind kinda thing where you just have access to everyones memories on the internet? Do you guys even have brain internet. How does that even work? [He stares a little, with a raised eyebrow. There are so many questions flowing, and now he's ego is being overridden with his curiosity, they just sort of spill out.]

--Dude. I have a freaking list. [He wheels forward on his chair and starts tapping away at the computer, before bringing up a huge document full of questions, theories, and notes on Orion's procedure (and general notes from what he's been following on CONDOR and what he saw in the robot fight). But he pauses for a moment, not quite turning the screen.]

So wait, are you the good guy robots or the bad guy robots? 'Cause I'm guessing the fight downtown wasn't like, a 'bitch don't touch my exhaust pipe' kind of fight.

[Ratchet's eyes widen slightly, but he did ask for it, he supposes. And this guy did help Orion when they needed it. He sighs.]

That... depends on who you ask, obviously. But we came here to try and protect your planet from our opposition, who are not famous for their care towards organic life on whatever planet they happen to be on at the time, and we're certainly not here to cause trouble with any organics directly.

[He holds out a hand palm-up and shrugs a little, starting to answer Newt's questions in a show of good faith.]

How long we live depends on the bot in question, but we don't really have any degenerative diseases the same way most organic species do. We usually live until we break down somewhere with no materials or parts or ability to repair ourselves or until something happens that's irreparable. Some of us have been around for a very long time indeed. Our brains don't work like what little I've seen of your computers--it's more biology than technology. No, we do not have a 'brain internet,' we're individuals and we link directly to share data very seldom. Honestly, I'd probably be the one to do it most often, when it's necessary for medical procedures.

[Ratchet does lean forward again, leaning on the desk to look at the computer screen, his eyes widening slightly at the length of the document there. It would certainly be useful to know what the humans knew about them so far...]

If you wanted to give that to me, I can look it over and tell you if you're on the right track. [He leans back again, his voice mild.] It looks like you took some decent notes while you were repairing Orion.

Not messin' with organics. I'm gonna file that under 'good guys'.

[he gives a short laugh, and then once Ratchet gets started, it's very obvious that Newt is having trouble keeping quiet to actually get his first questions answered. Especially since they lead to more questions, and Newt can literally just sit here all night asking away. He's got the document for it. Which he actually is adding to as Ratchet talks.]

Can you use any parts to fix yourselves? So like, modify any our our technology to suit your own needs or does it have to be specific? Is there anywhere inside you guys that's actually organic, like just a little? Like an organ right in the middle of all the metal to keep you guys alive and kicking. You have a kind of blood, right? What do you guys even eat? Wait do you even need to eat or is it more like fuelling up? And dude, how old Are you, gramps? Oh man, this is so freaking cool!

[when Ratchet leans back over, Newt shrugs and turns the screen fully so he can see, mostly because his rampant curiosity is taking over any sense of security. These are his notes, not CONDORs. Fuck 'em.]

You fixed him all up, right? He kinda left here in a bad way. I don't like letting patients leave like that.

Edited 2014-08-29 17:58 (UTC)

Not any parts--the more Cybertronian-specific they are, the better they work. But I can make do. We're fully inorganic, but we have irreplaceable organs the same way some organics do--things we can't just build. T-cogs, brain modules, spark chambers. Others, sometimes. [He rubs absently at one wrist and continues patiently.] We can't just cobble anything together. We consume energon for fuel, and it's used to fuel most things of ours as well.

[He pauses, then looks down at Newt at that last, a new respect and not a little understanding flickering in his eyes.]

...yeah. He's going to be fine, given enough time to heal. [Ratchet looks at Newt for a long moment, deeply calculating, before he continues.] He's one of my oldest friends, even from before the war. ...thank you, for helping him.

Energon? Why have I heard that word before? [he frowns, trying to remember where he might've heard it, but ends up just shrugging it off as coincidence. It'll probably come to him late one night or something. But all these new words he has to start learning! T-Cog, spark-chamber. He's got a ton more questions, and he figures that the guy is either gonna be here for a while, or they're gonna start having to email each other.

But he's going to focus on Orion first.]

Hey man, I help anyone who needs it. [he gives a shrug, offering Ratchet a crooked smile, before frowning.] I mean, I was pissed he didn't let me fix more of him. I almost didn't let him leave. I'm glad he has someone who knows what they're doing to patch him up.

[Ratchet's eyes widen a little for a moment before his face actually softens, the lines around his eyes and mouth easing slightly into something that's almost a smile.]

He's stubborn, yeah. He was a pain in the aft about getting fixed even after I got here. I can't count the number of times he's tried to walk out of my medibay with a repair half-finished because he decided there was something more important that needed doing. [He shakes his head, snorting a laugh.] But some of the repairs required specialized parts and tools that you couldn't have had access to anyway, so it's probably better that I finished up.

[Newt laughs and raises an eyebrow at him.] Oh my god, did you just say 'Aft' instead of ass? That's kinda hilarious, man. [He laughs at himself.] Heh. Robot puns. Awesome.

[But back to Orion.] He seems like the kinda guy who'd be like that, yeah. [A pause and a shrug.] You're just gonna have to show me so it doesn't happen again.

[Ratchet leans back a little, raising his eyebrows.]

You think so, huh? I said I'd help, not teach classes. Not my style.

[Newt also leans back in his chair to regard the man, frowning.]

Well, duh, I don't need a teacher. [he snorts, folding his arms as if he's offended by the very accusation. He's not needed a teacher for far longer than normal. In fact, he was pretty much teaching his teachers.]

But I totally get to watch you work, right?

I didn't say that. Absolutely nobody said that. [Ratchet's lip curls in alarm.] I said I'd answer a few questions because you helped Orion out, not take you on as some kind of... small, squishy apprentice.

[newt looks a little ticked off at that comment and puffs himself up slightly in his chair, scoffing.]

Squishy apprentice? Rude, man. I'm way too smart to be an apprentice.

You're the one who said you wanted to learn more. [Ratchet is sounding steadily more annoyed at this exercise in semantics.] What would you call it, then?

Shadowing, or something. Just watching you do procedures and stuff.

[He grins at the annoyance.] I just need to see things, I can usually figure stuff out pretty quickly.

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