[An amusement park? Nick has formed a lot of hypotheses over the years as to why the Institute makes synths, but he's got to say that putting them up in Nuka-World to entertain the masses isn't one of them. Whatever the reasoning for the creation of synthetics from world to world, there's one constant that hits close to home: they're used like tools, same as some of the others like him he's met in Hadriel. Being given memories, having parts rewritten as though they were an old recording rather than an individual capable of independent thoughts and feelings -- it's been a tough pill for him to swallow, and he can only imagine Maeve has seen plenty of the same. That's what makes the commiseration such a relief at times.
However, learning more about artificial people from other worlds puts him at such odds internally. He wants a better life for synths like that, like Maeve and Rey; however, he can hardly bring himself to trust some of the ones he's met back in the Commonwealth. Those helped by the Railroad just want a new life, but for every one of them, there are so many still programmed to follow the Institute's orders, replacing people without so much as batting an eye. How many of them knew what they were doing? And how many were given such vivid memories that they believed they were real, never knowing they were manufactured like any other machine until someone flipped a switch and set them to work?
It's questions like those he ponders often when he's walking the streets at night, and one he's not sure he'll ever have solid answers to them. There are good and bad apples in every bushel; digging deep enough to find the roots of the rotten tree is the hard part.
His disgust appears on his face, cutting into the wrinkles of this skin.]
Is this place still in operation? Or did you escape?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2018-07-30 08:57 am (UTC)However, learning more about artificial people from other worlds puts him at such odds internally. He wants a better life for synths like that, like Maeve and Rey; however, he can hardly bring himself to trust some of the ones he's met back in the Commonwealth. Those helped by the Railroad just want a new life, but for every one of them, there are so many still programmed to follow the Institute's orders, replacing people without so much as batting an eye. How many of them knew what they were doing? And how many were given such vivid memories that they believed they were real, never knowing they were manufactured like any other machine until someone flipped a switch and set them to work?
It's questions like those he ponders often when he's walking the streets at night, and one he's not sure he'll ever have solid answers to them. There are good and bad apples in every bushel; digging deep enough to find the roots of the rotten tree is the hard part.
His disgust appears on his face, cutting into the wrinkles of this skin.]
Is this place still in operation? Or did you escape?