ArchivedLogs:In Which Ethics Are Questionably Discussed And Homework Is Questionably Completed

In Which Ethics Are Questionably Discussed And Homework Is Questionably Completed
Dramatis Personae K.C., Kisha, Taylor	2016-01-28 "You can't railgun the students."
Location <XS> Conservatory
Tall panes of glass keep this large indoor garden warm year round. Tended to by the school's groundskeeper, the conservatory is lush with plant life, a carefully cultivated paradise within Xavier's walls. The room serves as a classroom as well; in the center of the garden a ring of seats forms a small circle, a favorite locale for some teachers to hold court. Lunchtime in the Conservatory is quiet, ish, most students off in the Great Hall with their food though a small cluster has gathered under some of the trees in the center of the garden to eat. Taylor is not with them -- the tentacled telepath is off at a side of the room near the front entrance right now, a leg of roast chicken held with a paper towel in one noodly limb, a notebook on his lap, a textbook on the bench next to him, kind of frantically working out the tail end of his Trig homework from last night. His eyes are narrowed on the page, teeth sunk into his lower lip. Today is one of those rare lunchtimes in which Kisha has actually remembered to get food in the form of a tuna melt. Usually such a prize would be returned to the Workshop but today she's got Bob melting plastic for a project and the respirator she'd need to wear would be something of a problem when trying to eat a sandwich. Aviator goggles pulled down she follows along behind her flying drone, letting it do all the hard work of finding a way towards an empty chair only to then sit cross legged on the floor and put the sandwich on it. K.C. is easy to hear before she can be seen -- well, for Taylor, at least. The staticky /screech/ of her mind grows louder as she approaches, her actual footsteps quite quiet in comparison despite the workboots she has on. Her stocky pitbull pads along, /actually/ quiet at her side. She has no lunch. Just a water bottle in one hand, her other hand wiggling fingers restlessly in the air before her. She stops by the entrance, brows furrowing as she turns her head -- first towards Kisha, then Taylor. Then Kisha. Then Taylor. "Yeah, no, yeah, that's due. That's due today. That's supposed to be done." "It's not due until next period, I'm not late /yet/." Two of Taylor's arms have reflexively come up to press against his temples, his shoulders coiling in tighter, harder. His teeth clench, and he stops writing, fingers gripping tighter at his pencil. The small noise in his throat is frustrated as he looks up at K.C. With a small sigh of resignation, he sets his pencil down, takes a bite of his chicken instead. He eyes Kisha's drone hopefully. "I don't suppose your robot does Trig?" Kisha tilts her head, either regarding the question or the sandwich. "Not as such," she finally answers. "But I've got an AR overlay and a link to my server. To be fair Trig is also very easy, so it probably doesn't require that much computing power." She shrugs. "You should do what I'm doing, finish all your more important homework during ethics class." "Not late yet," K.C. agrees, dropping her hand to rest on the dog's head. "Not late yet. Soon. Soon late. You should finish. /I/ finished." She moves a little closer, peering at Taylor's work. "Do what she's doing. She's very busy. Very very busy. Trig isn't hard. /I/ finished. Why didn't you finish?" "Trig is /fine/ when you don't have --" Taylor starts out a little defensively, his arms pressing harder to his head. He stops, though, teeth clenching. Just shakes his head, lets out a heavy breath through his teeth. "I would but I have trig /first/. Ain't no help. Fuck it." He closes his notebook, setting it aside. "My /brain/ is out of computing power. -- What are you busy with?" His chin tips up to Kisha curiously. The drone hovers half the way over to Taylor, then stops when he closes his book. "I was about to offer to have the drone project the answers but that would technically be cheating," Kisha replies. "I'm having a sandwich, Bob is doing some work with plastics and I'm doing a little work on a project I'm hoping to use to convince Tony Stark to hire me. Nothing especially noteworthy." "Technically cheating. Technically -- technically -- technically cheating." K.C. moves to the bench, clicking her tongue lightly. The dog pads along beside her, well-behaved until she gets over to Taylor at which point she rears up to place her large paws on his lap, sniffing eagerly first at his hand and then towards his leg of chicken. K.C ignores this, picking up the notebook and abandoned pencil. "You know Tony Stark?" "Not noteworthy." Taylor's brows raise, an amused snort accompanying this statement. He doesn't seem /overly/ bothered by his lapful of Dog, curling an arm up to scratch at the dog's head even while gently nudging her away from his chicken. The arm holding the chicken stretches up-up-up, easily keeping it well out of reach. "-- B knows Tony Stark. You talked to her or are you going to actually, uh, /apply/?" He sounds skeptical of /this/ avenue of Employment. "That company is huge as fuck." "Sort of? I met him once and he sent me an email," Kisha responds between bites of her sandwich. "But yes I've sent B an email making my interest known. I've yet to properly discuss the specifics though. I wanted to have my project as close to ready for prototyping as possible without breaking the school rules." She coughs and quietly adds. "On students making weapons." "Specifics. Specifics -- what specifics. Weapons." K.C. is watching Kisha rather than the dog, pfft, Taylor can handle his own chicken. "Stupid rule. Stupid rule. Weapons, what weapons. Many students have weapons. They don't cut off Taylor's arms. They don't cut out Jack's brain." Though she does chuckle slightly, here. "Stupid rule." "Hey I've lost my arms on /several/ occasions." Taylor is leaning baaack, trying to finagle both /petting/ the dog and also taking another bite of his chicken. Hmmm. It requires a bit of mooshing at dogface to keep her head turned away while he sneaks a bite. "... admittedly never at administrative request. The rule is fucking dumb as rocks. I could, though," even though he's still kiind of headachey-wincing he manages a twisted-up smile here, "think of a /couple/ students whose brains could use some holepunching. What /are/ you making anyway?" "I'm not actually going to build it on school grounds," Kisha points out. "But it's an anti-armor rail gun. So even if I agree that the school rules are a little unfair for students without natural weapons I can still see how in this case they might find it a little excessive for personal protection. Unless New York happens to be attacked by Godzilla now that the zombies are mostly gone." "Couple students. Couple students." K.C.'s fingers flutter in the air. "Yeah you can't railgun the students." It's hard to read much inflection into K.C.'s flat monotone, but the small twitch of her mouth almost looks disappointed. Almost. "Yeah but, online, I read, next after the zombies there's going to be a plague of kaiju. Really important. Really important to get that ready." Her brows crease after this, though. Her fingers pinch at the air, flicking restlessly at empty space in front of her. With a sharp shake of her head: "... zombies aren't gone. Just. Moved." "Which is a damn shame, honestly. I'm pretty sure that there's some teachers who might be convinced if you made them an argument that /some/ students could do with a sound rail-gunning once in a while." Taylor munches at his chicken again, sitting back up and going back to holding the mostly-finished drumstick high out of canine reach. "I am not ready for another monster plague. -- Wait. /Moved/? Like, what, gathering their strength for another assault? Evolving into their next form?" Kisha takes another bite of her sandwich. "Joy. The last thing the world needs is the dead walking around still. I think if I were to start shooting students things would get out of hand quickly, especially now I am having to take every subject I have put off. In hindsight I should have split them up so the misery was less concentrated." "Evolving. Evolving, evolving." K.C.'s head bobs slowly. She has turned to a new page in Taylor's notebook, starting to jot down problems quickly on the page. "Yeah, evolving. Not for assault. Learning, growing. Joy, joy, joy. Don't shoot students. That's against the rules. What misery? Why misery? I like trig this part is easy." "That --" Taylor is rising, reluctantly pushing Dog down off his lap so that he can extricate himself from large paws and stand up. "Sounds like something I so don't want to think about right now. If they've gone somewhere why don't people go -- take care of that? That -- ngh." His eyes scrunch shut. Open again reluctantly. He looks down at K.C. and his math homework, kind of bemused. "... can I get that back before class starts?" "It's not trig I dislike. But rather ethics, art and music. Complete wastes of time for me. So long as they don't figure out how to stop decomposition time will take care of that particular problem for everyone," Kisha says, licking her fingers clean. "The staff are probably far too busy with various legal problems to do anything productive." "Far too busy. Far too busy." K.C.'s head shakes, eyes very focused on Taylor's trig homework. "Yeah, yeah, people taking care of that. People very busy taking care of that. Go away I'm busy. You'll get this later. Ethics is easy," she adds with another nod, "I have charts. Easier to calculate the optimal answer." "Yeah, you're definitely never going to need /ethics/ in the real world." Taylor's voice is kind of dry. Kind of amused. Not that he's actually reclaiming his homework from K.C., either. He just rubs at his temple again, one eye scrunching up as his mouth twists to the side. "I -- don't think that's -- exactly how --" Though here he hesitates, shaking his head. "... nevermind. That's probably pretty accurate." His eye is still kind of just painfully /scrunched/, though, as he heads for the door. Kisha rolls her eyes. "I said the class was a waste of time, not that I would never be subjected to any form of ethical dilemma in my life." She responds with bland indifference. "But anyway good luck with your trig class and uhm with getting your book back someday. Anyway I should probably go check on Bob." "Ethical dilemma --" K.C. shakes her head, still just focused on math. "Yeah, okay. Okay. Yeah. Waste of time. Talking is a waste of time, I'm busy now." Lips pressed together, she pauses only long enough to pat her dog gently on her head before returning to trigonometry.