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I WAS MADE TO HIT IN AMERICAAAA
He should know not to go out at night by himself. Not because he's in any danger - Captain America in New York City on a less-than-average day doesn't have much to worry about. But because, almost without exception, he gets lost. Steve tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans and squints up at the buildings around him, ignoring the college student who staggers by, stops to stare at him, and bursts out laughing before moving on.
He's used to that, too, by now. Apparently dressing conservatively these days isn't a reflection of care for the resources of the country, or a side-effect of living life as a soldier for two years - it's just "dorky." At least he doesn't feel like someone's taped a sign to his back, not since he asked Darcy - Agent Lewis - why he kept getting that reaction.
Of course the fact that she had to explain what 'Because you're a dork' meant didn't really help his... street cred. He chuckles to himself, only a little ironic, at managing to use both terms in one train of thought.
A few streets later he's getting very confused. Usually he's able to find at least one familiar street or landmark to point him in the general right direction, at least until he finds a cab to get him the rest of the way back to the mansion. He's done this enough in the months he's been here that his assigned SHIELD shadows don't pop a vein unless he's not back by morning - in this case, though, that's probably working against him.
Finally Steve sighs and digs into his pocket to pull out his cellular phone. He looks at it for a moment, smiling to himself and wondering what Howard would make of all this. Tiny phones with tinier batteries and communicators and jets that don't need runways to take off.
Well, for all Steve knows, Howard invented most of it. He still hasn't been able to bring himself to look at history texts to see how his friends lived out their lives. There's something too much like admitting he's never going to see them again in doing that.
He flips the phone open gingerly, poking the tiny buttons with his pinky because he's not sure how else to manage the thing, and dials in what he's fairly sure is Darcy's number. Agent Lewis's number. He could try calling someone else, but she's friendly, in her own way. She doesn't treat him like a loaded gun waiting to be pointed at the next Big Bad Guy.
Steve lifts the phone to his ear with a frown. "Uh. Hello?"
He's used to that, too, by now. Apparently dressing conservatively these days isn't a reflection of care for the resources of the country, or a side-effect of living life as a soldier for two years - it's just "dorky." At least he doesn't feel like someone's taped a sign to his back, not since he asked Darcy - Agent Lewis - why he kept getting that reaction.
Of course the fact that she had to explain what 'Because you're a dork' meant didn't really help his... street cred. He chuckles to himself, only a little ironic, at managing to use both terms in one train of thought.
A few streets later he's getting very confused. Usually he's able to find at least one familiar street or landmark to point him in the general right direction, at least until he finds a cab to get him the rest of the way back to the mansion. He's done this enough in the months he's been here that his assigned SHIELD shadows don't pop a vein unless he's not back by morning - in this case, though, that's probably working against him.
Finally Steve sighs and digs into his pocket to pull out his cellular phone. He looks at it for a moment, smiling to himself and wondering what Howard would make of all this. Tiny phones with tinier batteries and communicators and jets that don't need runways to take off.
Well, for all Steve knows, Howard invented most of it. He still hasn't been able to bring himself to look at history texts to see how his friends lived out their lives. There's something too much like admitting he's never going to see them again in doing that.
He flips the phone open gingerly, poking the tiny buttons with his pinky because he's not sure how else to manage the thing, and dials in what he's fairly sure is Darcy's number. Agent Lewis's number. He could try calling someone else, but she's friendly, in her own way. She doesn't treat him like a loaded gun waiting to be pointed at the next Big Bad Guy.
Steve lifts the phone to his ear with a frown. "Uh. Hello?"
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"I'm listening." It's not said as a prompt to get her to talk, just a reassurance. A promise. I'm here, even if he's not sitting next to her.
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She's too cautious for details right now. She trusts Steve, sure, but she spent all those cycles keeping who she was a secret. It's hard to reveal--it even was with Sam, who she trusted and believed in without a doubt. For now, her answers stay a bit cryptic.
"And I'm the only one left."
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He hesitates a moment more. "What... What kind of special?"
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"Genocide." Shortly said. Heavy. Every implication that comes with the word rests in her tone.
What kind of special? How to explain what it means to be an ISO? It was all in her coding, that specialness. Did he even know what a computer program was? Was there some sort of good comparison? "I suppose you could say it's.. like DNA," she tries. "Not exactly, but... but it's inherent. Inside me."
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He's too quiet, he realizes, and finally says, "Natural, or was it something that... Was it something that changed you?"
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"Natural, technically. Almost spontaneous." A pause. "But an unexpected existence."
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Steve feels bad making her explain, but he wants to understand, and if she didn't want him to, she wouldn't be sharing.
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"I'm not human," she admits. She can do that much--he's already revealed the existence of aliens to her. "My existence was a spontaneous evolution."
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But then there's that word, the one she gave so much weight that he doesn't know. He doesn't want to go saying things like that without all the facts, saying that she might not be the only one out there. "Okay," is all he says, hoping there's something more he can latch on to, to wrap his head around whatever it is she's saying.
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At the very least, in her mind, some sort of explanation for the confusion is called for.
"DNA is the User--human equivalent, more or less. Mine is... special." A pause as she thinks. "Where I'm from, I, and the others like me, were different from everyone already in existence. A cut above the rest, you could say." Flynn had said that once. Maybe it would make sense to Steve.
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He's silent for a breath before he decides he might as well ask. "Quorra? Why do you keep calling humans Users? Have we- is it our fault, that you're by yourself?"
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For a few seconds, she debates asking, before just blurting it out. "Do you know what computer programs are?"
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She doesn't seem like JARVIS, which is the first place his brain goes when he gets over the immediate shock of revelation. Sure, JARVIS is probably the smartest computer in existence, according to Tony, but Quorra... seems different. She doesn't seem like a smart computer at all. She's a person, not-
Steve presses his fingertips against one temple, trying to sort all this out. "You're.. Do you mean you're..."
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"A program. Technically." That was easier than she anticipated, and she lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Please don't tell anyone," she adds in a tiny voice. She doesn't want to be traced back here, back to Sam, back to everything.
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After a few seconds of opening and shutting his mouth around several different sets of questions, Steve finally manages, "How? I mean, I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be rude, I just thought- Even JARVIS doesn't- You have a body, right?"
He winces again and waves one hand in a desperate negative motion. "That was rude. I apologize. I just... Technically?"
He latches on to the one thing she said that can obviously be expanded on, trying to get his brain back on track.
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She holds out her hand in front of her, wriggling her fingers around. "I look like a User--sorry, a human. You wouldn't be able to tell I wasn't by looking."
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He starts walking again. "You're a program. Not a computer? A robot?" he says, and quickly adds, "No offense meant."
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She's not used to having to explain exactly what that means. She's not even entirely sure how it works herself, being out here in the Real World, as a program.
"It's hard to explain. I'm not really sure how to."
When not keeping secrets, Quorra is excellent at speaking her mind.
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"That's good to know," she grins. She is trying to pass for a User, after all. "I think it's difficult to explain because programs don't usually come into this World."
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"Well, before I... woke up, I would have said superheroes don't usually exist either. I'm kind of getting used to nothing making sense."
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She's talked a bit about the concept of a superhero before, with Flynn on the Grid and in passing with Sam. But much like aliens, she'd never thought of them to legitimately exist.
"But don't worry. Even if things here don't make sense right now, I'm sure you'll learn. We both will!"
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There's something really bizarrely reassuring in her words. He kicks at the line between two panels in the sidewalk and says, quietly, "Thanks."
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