@ai-framework adding another one from here because this is too rhetorical nOT to answer.
In between complete silence, like the moment before the coming storm, marine words came over. As every other word he would say, these ones caught the attention of the android, who had remained still for more than a while, staring at the fabricated world he had come to exist in. Today, as any other day, strong thoughts weighed on the human near him. The machine thought that maybe he could get to understand the weight of it all, some day. But, not today.
Crafted were the eyes that turned to glance upon blue, tilting his head over. The colors of what had been designed as the sun, making contrast, all exposed between the deeply enclosed shape of a man he couldn’t begin to know fully yet.
“What is there to feel weak about if it is the strongest?” innocently, he formulated the question. Only the human psyche could answer such an illogical statement. The feeling of being weak, when knowing one is strong, how could it make sense? If he could try and think like humans did… “Does the strongest soul bear the hopes of the weak?” was a thing that, maybe, could push the feeling of weakness or an overwhelming sensation that could be misinterpreted.
From contact to disengaging, his eyes went back to the scenery at hand. No matter how much he tried to answer the words, they simply made no sense to him. A sigh presents itself, unconsciously, as it should not have. Why… would Ovan say something like that to him? Was he conveying his feelings. “Are you the strongest soul, mister Ovan?”
The heat of what should have been artificial light weighed upon his shoulders, the blanket of warmth neatly snug against the folds of fabric and belts that were strewn across the gunner’s character. Although completely sunny in almost every field, it was never enough to feel exhausted. It was simply a phantom ( on of his many phantoms ) that would loom over him, draped over his shoulders, around his neck, wringing him.
He smiles anyway, albeit that air of melancholy wafting about the enigma. Airos’ response was expected as such---a logical program was not apt to explore the illogical fantasies of humans until introduced. Ovan almost felt a little guilty making him trying to give him a conundrum by speaking aloud, but it was in Airos’ nature to answer things, he’s noticed. “It’s one way to look at it. Such thoughts are.. open-ended,” he suggests, although perhaps it was a good idea to expose Airos to his jumbled mess of thoughts. Hopefully they wouldn’t surprise the poor AI too much.
“My apologies for my looseness,” Ovan finally adds, “Sometimes I can’t help the rhetorical thoughts...although, I suppose, to answer your question, I’m not so sure about that.” His hand comes to his hip, a token idle movement as his head dips, thoughtful. ( really, if i was the strongest, i wouldn’t be here like this. this pain wouldn’t prevail ) “To what extent is strength left unattended.. at what point does the soul cry for rest from holding rigid for too long? The strongest souls don’t realize this transition period.. it is their folly, their weakness. They do not know their own state until it’s too late. What do you think?”
A vague representation of his state? Perhaps---it wouldn’t be far off. For his own sanity, the spectrum had been much worse than that. He hit such a point long ago.
