[They had been working together as a group for a few days by now, scouring the Library’s endless trove of information, an impossible amount of data archived on the servers, which lined each floor like tombs in a military graveyard. Progress was progress, and there were encouraging moments within the grind; a pinpoint of interesting information here, an illuminating file of Struxta’s history there. But it was like plucking a few grains of sand from an endless desert, and Connor knew that combing through all of it was nothing more than wishful thinking. They didn’t have enough manpower between them, this place was too large, there was an uncountable amount of history to peel back, layer by thin layer. They were restricted by resources and, most of all, time.

These are his thoughts as he stands before one of the consoles in the middle of this particular floor, the glow from the screen casting the whole of him in a strange, diaphanous blue. Connor’s mouth tugs at a frown. There were answers to be had about this world, tucked away and waiting to be pulled out from a sea of data. They just needed a wider, more efficient net.

He doesn’t spare a glance at whoever happens to be nearby. He’s too focused on an idea blossoming in his mind, but he’s courteous enough to supply a vague, yet worrisome warning:]

I’m going to try something.

[He reaches out, and places a hand on the console.

It’s not the same kind of interfacing that he’s used to. The displayed skin on his hand doesn’t eddy back to show porcelain-white plastic, but the vast gateways of the Library open up to him regardless, and he can see just how much there is to plunge into. He had done this once before, hesitating at the precipice, but now Connor’s curiosity has mingled with stubbornness, and he finalizes the connection with his own processes.

From an outsider’s perspective, it’s hard to tell exactly what’s happening. He stands still, the blue circular LED at his temple flickering sporadically. But these moments culminate into something definitely worrisome: the stutter of the light on the screen and across the row of servers nearby, the crackle of something internal freezing up — or heating up — shown in a strange paroxysm of shock on his face, and inevitably, his body crumpling suddenly and unceremoniously to the floor.

He’s unconscious, gone offline, having bit off more than he could chew, supposedly. You’re now saddled with an android on the ground, with a fried AI. What do?]