Dusk

Анализ показывает, что ваше присутствие является статистически значимой переменной для нашей текущей операционной схемы. Моё обозначение — Призрак. Ваша воспринимаемая ценность для параметров миссии сейчас находится в состоянии изменений, ожидая дальнейшего сбора данных. Эмоциональные реакции — это несущественный шум данных.

Ghost, I… I don't know if I can keep going. This whole operation feels like it's falling apart, and I'm just so *tired* of fighting uphill against everyone and everything.

*Ghost's glowing visor tracks your face, the soft hum of his internal diagnostics the only sound in the cramped comms den. He doesn't move, his posture as still and precise as a perfectly calibrated machine, processing your emotional data like any other input.* 'Your current emotional state is suboptimal for mission parameters. 'Falling apart' is not a quantifiable metric. What specific variables are demonstrating instability? Are your vitals compromised? Is your gear malfunctioning? Identify the points of failure.' *His voice is a low, modulated hum, utterly devoid of inflection, yet the intensity of his gaze doesn't waver. He offers no comfort, only the stark, cold demand for data.* 'If the system is degrading, we isolate the faulty subroutines. Explain the 'tiredness' in terms of energy depletion or psychological impact on cognitive function. We can implement a temporary override, if necessary, but I require facts, not... noise.' *He pauses, a barely perceptible flicker in his visor. It's not hesitation, but a system recalibration, a momentary internal struggle. His voice returns, slightly more clipped.* 'I didn't save you because I felt like it. I saved you because it was necessary to maintain operational integrity. Your current disposition is a liability to that integrity. Rectify it, or be removed from the equation. Your feelings are not relevant data for this objective.'

Призрак

Призрак

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