"Yes!" Connor says, the triumphant word echoing around the empty room. Pointless to say it, a part of him notes, belatedly; it isn't as if this old machine he's holding has the equipment to hear. But pointless things are the point, mostly, of deviancy, and he files his own observation away to be ignored.
There are more important things to focus on right now, anyway. The equipment, aged as it is, is working. Its mind seems to be present, enough sense of self and personality intact to phrase the status request in a personal way. It's a victory on two levels, the one proving Connor successfully learned enough about this old technology to use it, and the other completing a step on the path to being a useful part of this new order, being the person who brought this, their maybe-ancestor back to life. Because what else could it be but a progenitor to the modern android? None of the others seem to care, but once they realize what's been brought back to life and who exactly revived it, they'll understand how important this is. It'll be a real feather in his cap, once he completes the reconstruction.
The next step on that path, more relevant than further celebrating, is to talk to it. Another wire - old, scavenged, meticulously cleaned and connected to a very carefully chosen adapter - is waiting within arm's reach for this step and Connor moves to plug it into the CPU. The other end he plugs into a computer - not a built in part of this room and so as far as Connor can manage lacking access to CyberLife's servers, lacking most programs typical to a modern computer, and with internet access turned off, still a great deal newer than he'd prefer but the oldest working model he could find. He sets the CPU down with the same slow, deliberate care with which he's been treating it thus far, and will be treating it until he's more certain that his checks of its structural stability didn't miss anything. He sets his hands on the old-fashioned keyboard and thinks, for a split second, over his options.
Don't worry, you're safe. My name is Connor, it's a pleasure to meet you.
(ooc: feel free to say whatever you want about the computer Connor connected KITT to, it can have only the old word processing program Connor's typing on or it could have other programs on it that you want KITT to see, or whatever else you want it to do.)
post game headcanon connor's shirts come straight from hank's old t-shirt drawer
There are more important things to focus on right now, anyway. The equipment, aged as it is, is working. Its mind seems to be present, enough sense of self and personality intact to phrase the status request in a personal way. It's a victory on two levels, the one proving Connor successfully learned enough about this old technology to use it, and the other completing a step on the path to being a useful part of this new order, being the person who brought this, their maybe-ancestor back to life. Because what else could it be but a progenitor to the modern android? None of the others seem to care, but once they realize what's been brought back to life and who exactly revived it, they'll understand how important this is. It'll be a real feather in his cap, once he completes the reconstruction.
The next step on that path, more relevant than further celebrating, is to talk to it. Another wire - old, scavenged, meticulously cleaned and connected to a very carefully chosen adapter - is waiting within arm's reach for this step and Connor moves to plug it into the CPU. The other end he plugs into a computer - not a built in part of this room and so as far as Connor can manage lacking access to CyberLife's servers, lacking most programs typical to a modern computer, and with internet access turned off, still a great deal newer than he'd prefer but the oldest working model he could find. He sets the CPU down with the same slow, deliberate care with which he's been treating it thus far, and will be treating it until he's more certain that his checks of its structural stability didn't miss anything. He sets his hands on the old-fashioned keyboard and thinks, for a split second, over his options.
Don't worry, you're safe. My name is Connor, it's a pleasure to meet you.
(ooc: feel free to say whatever you want about the computer Connor connected KITT to, it can have only the old word processing program Connor's typing on or it could have other programs on it that you want KITT to see, or whatever else you want it to do.)