[the microbots don't feel pain; there's no recoil from nonexistent sensors, but there is a sudden clearing around the area, Callaghan noting both the weapon and the fact that it's...effective.
note to self; avoid extreme heat, or look in to making these things heat-resistant. perhaps a coating...
as Hiro speaks, there's another reaction from his creation, the machines quickly building structures towards the indicated locations without even a gesture from Callaghan. rather; his gesture of reaching up and rubbing his temple as though in pain has nothing to do with it. that, and the brief wince, is related only to how hard it can be to /think/ lately.]
I've made mistakes.
[his voice is tight, but at least it's an admission. he won't specify on what those mistakes are, though he will continue-]
I'm trying to fix them.
[lowering his hand, it's promptly 'handed' the notebook. and even with a glance down at it, he's realizing that Hiro would have been...challenging...as a student. the microbots even opened it to the first page, and the scribbling there is haphazard at best. Tadashi ever kept cleaner work, but he has the presence of mind to realize touching on that would just end up in this escalating rather quickly.
still. this and the other papers and the data drive are more than he had. it's a place for him to start, short of going for Hiro's mind itself and that was not an order.
if it wasn't /him/, he might find the constant ripple-motions of the microbots fascinating, especially with the aborted motions and reaches they make. they move almost organically, as much as they conform to mathematically precise angles and structures. but here and now they're wearisome at best, and disturbing most of the other time. at worst...]
no subject
note to self; avoid extreme heat, or look in to making these things heat-resistant. perhaps a coating...
as Hiro speaks, there's another reaction from his creation, the machines quickly building structures towards the indicated locations without even a gesture from Callaghan. rather; his gesture of reaching up and rubbing his temple as though in pain has nothing to do with it. that, and the brief wince, is related only to how hard it can be to /think/ lately.]
I've made mistakes.
[his voice is tight, but at least it's an admission. he won't specify on what those mistakes are, though he will continue-]
I'm trying to fix them.
[lowering his hand, it's promptly 'handed' the notebook. and even with a glance down at it, he's realizing that Hiro would have been...challenging...as a student. the microbots even opened it to the first page, and the scribbling there is haphazard at best. Tadashi ever kept cleaner work, but he has the presence of mind to realize touching on that would just end up in this escalating rather quickly.
still. this and the other papers and the data drive are more than he had. it's a place for him to start, short of going for Hiro's mind itself and that was not an order.
if it wasn't /him/, he might find the constant ripple-motions of the microbots fascinating, especially with the aborted motions and reaches they make. they move almost organically, as much as they conform to mathematically precise angles and structures. but here and now they're wearisome at best, and disturbing most of the other time. at worst...]