standalonehuman | Recolle IC Inbox

Pause on the idea of resources for a second. We'd been assuming that they were only running this on a small server. A cloud server is still just a remote server, right? But what are the implications for the kind of resources that are bankrolling the company, then, if they have this?

It depends on if it's a public or private cloud.
With Retrospec, I'd assume private, but if they can pull our stuff, it'd be public. Or both?

Maybe they have a public cloud attached to a private cloud in-house. Sounds ridiculous.

So that only adds to your question. Who's bankrolling? Someone with loaded pockets.

[Batman. The answer is Retrospec Batman.]

All right. Thank you for going so far, but I wouldn't want you to put yourself at risk doing more on this.

I am going to have to repeat my offer for coffee, though, because I held up my end of the deal.

[Someone as cautious as Tim? There's no way he wants the details of even what he was looking for spilled over this app.]

[Dammit, don't freaking lure him out with coffee because he will cave every single time.]

Fine.
Tall, skinny, toffee-nut iced latte.
I'll be there in twenty.

For his part, Togusa thinks that it's the irresistible lure of information that will drag Tim out. He's nice enough to sit at a table in the interior, so people can't scope them out from the window (he will make some accessions to Tim's paranoia), but he prefers the sort of setting where the background noise and busyness of other people will cover their conversation.

He is far more relaxed here than he was in the church, flipping through a paperback book as he waits. An envelope is tucked inside the front cover of the book, leaving Tim's information tantalizingly out in the open, but also to let him know that he wasn't bluffing.

But he is keeping one eye on the clock as he waits. Has he earned enough trust for Tim to be on time, or is he late from scoping the place out a bunch?

Never doubt in the punctuality of Timothy Drake, memory-loss AU or not.

Getting there in fifteen, maybe ten, would have been easy, but saying he would be there in twenty gave him extra time to, in fact, scope out the place.

This time, he doesn't come in that much different than he did in the church. He's still dressed down, casual, and his face sports a pair of black glasses which seem to boost his age one or two notches. Without hesitation, he heads for Togusa; there may have been a few minutes and the use of a pair of binoculars. Sue him.

If Togusa is facing the general area of the place, Tim, disgruntled mildly, will sit as far over to the wall as allowed or either take a seat directly beside the man. (He needs to see everything, too. No trust.)

There's something unnerving about being surrounded in public and not having your eye on what's happening.

"Just some light reading," he jabs gently as he sits. His eyes skim over the cover behind the glasses, then jump to the envelope, then to Togusa's face. "If I hadn't referenced my sources, I would have pegged you for a free-lance reporter, not a cop."

Togusa had enough trust to sit with his back to the rest of the place, but it was really to angle himself to sit without the sun in his eyes. If Tim can read Japanese, he'll be able to tell that the book is J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye. If not, it's just a blue and white book written in kanji. Togusa casually pulls the envelope out of the book and drops it on the table, as if he was just using it as a bookmark.

"The day to day work? There's not much difference between the two. Investigative journalism and investigative detective work require a lot of the same skills. Patience, the ability to go through a lot of paperwork, and people skills." Togusa smiles mock-charmingly at his last words.

He's unsure if Tim will want to open the reports here, but he'll give him the short version of the results. "Came up with nothing. It's not a corporation or syndicate or organized affiliation, not an operation code name or law enforcement subgroup. Nothing military that I'm capable of accessing." But they are both clear about the access level that a regular police officer has to that sort of information.

Why can't you be reading something in Chinese instead, Togusa? He's learning Chinese for business, not Japanese for various weeb fantasies. But now that he can't really read the kanji, he's a little miffed. What seems similar just gives him a garbled, nonsensical version of the title.

Why is J.D. Salinger written in katakana instead of just simply Romanized is what he'd want to know if he could ask.

"But you have the authority to get the details legally," he reminds, and neither of his hands move for the envelop. He can't seem invested in the material, or he risks looking desperate.

At least Togusa's information checks out. Even hacking the department, Tim didn't find anything either. Which... is strange. He's not sure why he'd have the feeling of belonging to a group that doesn't exist. Like walking into football practice and finding out Recolle High School doesn't even have a team.

"It's okay. I--It's just something I was curious about is all. Heard the name around the university." His smile is an attempt to be jovial. "What are you going to do now? About Retrospec, I mean."

~~Because he was born in Kawasaki, not Beijing, Tim!~~

"True," Togusa affirms when Tim reminds him of how far his authority extends. "But it would take time. I suppose I wanted to check in with you before I went that far."

Togusa raises his coffee again and takes a drink because it helps him not start to smirk. Drake, you are so full of crap. But Togusa is guessing that Tim is not going to be the last person asking Togusa to look up something that makes absolutely no sense because it ties in to these strange visions and memories that have been going around.

But he wants to play it that way, Togusa will let him play it that way. He puts his coffee back down. "I'm working with some local private investigators to go through the possible people tied to the names we've gotten of Retrospec employees so far, as well as to put a physical stakeout on the building. I'm severely doubting that either of these efforts is going to turn up anything, but it's like before. We need to verify that no one is going in or out of the building. We need to verify that Jim Halloway isn't just living somewhere in the city. Can't go on what we think is true."

For several minutes, Tim's eyes linger on the envelope on the table, though appear to be staring through it thoughtfully. There's relief that Togusa doesn't pursue his lie, but also some knowing that it'll eventually come back around--maybe. Or that Togusa will just keep it in mind.

Both brows rise before he finally lifts his gaze back up at Togusa, curious.

"What are you going to do when Jim Halloway lives inside the Retrospec building?" A pause. "What are you going to do when Jim Halloway is an advanced artificial intelligence and not actually a person?" Tim's lips twist, a split between amusement and real concern.

"Most of the time," he says, voice low and confidential, "hackers don't slap their fingers on a keyboard repeatedly when they're trying to hack. It's about master and servant. Hackers create programs that do the work for them, just like thieves have their lockpicks.

"For example, hackers trying to bypass passwords run a program that speedily throws together word and number combinations to see which one will 'open the lock.' People dumb enough to have simple passwords like 'flower123' are who bite the dust.

"Anyway: what are you going to do if Jim Halloway turns out to be a moniker for one of these programs? Maybe that's why the application is so butchered. Either 'Jim Halloway' isn't getting the right input, or 'Jim Halloway' has a serious bug.

"Point is, you're still not going to find Jim Halloway. Not physically."

Togusa leans back and folds his arms as he considers what Tim is saying. He knows that Tim is right in theory, but..

"I'd follow you on this, but you're forgetting how we learned about Mr. Halloway in the first place. A big, goofy, public love confession wrapped up in a warning about the next change we were experiencing. You don't take the time to program in love if what you're making is, what, an information-gathering bot? He said he was Research and Development? What would that translate to?"

"Are we going to find a guy named Jim Halloway? Still probably no. But I'd bet the safer money on there being a person to find behind the name. Is he physically in that building? Again, betting on no, but we need to take the time to make sure."

"But that cloud server you found, it doesn't necessarily have to be tied to the building, either, does it?"

Naturally, Tim doesn't seem convinced. He's too skeptical. Too cautious. "Any good programer trying to pass a program off as human will find a way to implement natural human attributes," he reminds.

Carefully, he leans back in his seat, folding his arms low across his stomach. "No," he confirms reluctantly, "it doesn't have to be since it can be accessed by anyone that is given clearance. Or, like, has an account.

"Why distract us with a fake building, though? That just sounds as if they've got some worse stuff to hide."

"But when does it cross the line, then? Does the programming ever get too good? Can you program in individuality? Let alone self-identity, awareness of another? We're back to that 'ghost' idea, all the things that, supposedly, you can't program in." He shakes his head. "There's somebody at the keyboard."

"That's actually my next move, personally," Togusa tilts his cup towards himself. "The building. Construction permits, zoning ordinances, a leasing agreement, something had to get signed with somebody's name in order for that to happen. And, with luck, all that stuff is public record. Just need somebody willing to take the time to go through it."

"Like I said earlier, patience."

The nerd that he is, Tim wants to vouch on the side of science fiction, but he keeps his mouth shut, lacking substantial evidence. Maybe someone had finally figured out a way to create artificial intelligence with a complex, individual consciousness. But no one had ever seen it, so that's irrelevant.

"Retrospec could be padding the pockets of anyone organizing that kind of data." Already running into the roadblock with the app and its security, Tim is leaning on that being the case.

But maybe if keeping quiet was the only part of the deal, Tim can find out information his own way. Strangely, Tim seems boosted again in morale, enough to start drinking the iced coffee.

"Not gonna find out until we look at it," Togusa shrugs. But Tim seems in better spirits, closer to where Togusa is at. "It's not a dead end yet. We're going to keep going through it all."

"That does leave up the question of how much more you want to be involved, though. You're not contracted, but my group is still lacking someone with your skill set that knows about the app. I'd tell you that your instincts with the server were right, don't do anything that puts you or your personal equipment at risk."

But what is Tim in this for? Does he just want his answers? Togusa laid out his priorities pretty clearly the last time they met. "But if you want out, now's a good time to press the eject button."

The part inside Tim thirsting for greatness is screaming about perpetual involvement. The part of Tim trying to look as calm and uninterested as possible is trying its best to keep him that way.

His eyes drop down to the envelope again. Even if Tim was too paranoid to wait, Togusa held up that end of the deal despite the results being nothing. Just a little, Tim smiles, boyish.

"I could," he admits. "But Retrospec isn't going to stop being shady. It's innocent now; next time, it might not be. In the future, it might be worse, more dangerous. I want to stop that from happening." And he wants the personal recognition. "If you give me a legal shield," and an arm into police intel, he thinks, "I'll give you my skill set when you need it."

Togusa has to weigh Tim's words carefully. He's focused on Retrospec. Like with some of his colleagues, this is more about 'catch the bad guy' than 'protect the people.' More. But not completely. That urge is still in there. And Togusa can work with that.

"I don't have the authority to bring you on formally. But you have a deal. And, let's keep in mind that a 'legal shield' as you put it can protect you from any consequences related to Retrospec only." Just in case you get smart.

"But all right." This is Togusa's best bet. Deep down he knows this is a bad sign, but maybe he's found another person like Shirogane, someone else with a lot of skill who just needs a push in the right direction.

The reassuring smile he gives Tim seems to say he understands, but really it means he will just think of workable ways to call some of what he does Retrospec Business. "I'd rather not be formally linked with the police.

"Not that you guys are bad, and not that I'm bad. I think it's just easier for everyone involved if I'm ghost." And not leaving a linking trail. "Thanks for your help, by the way," he says, reaching out to brush the envelope as indication before bringing it toward himself. He doesn't pick it up and put it away; leaves it tucked neatly at the edge of the table.

"I'm in the Lincoln building at the university. My dorm, I mean. If you need to find me."

"You're welcome. It wasn't really any trouble." Well, Tim probably knows how much trouble it was, and Togusa went to as much trouble as was safe to.

Togusa blinks in surprise, that Tim would be willing to give up that kind of information, but he nods. "In case of it, thank you. I live not far from the University, if you'd prefer to keep these meetings in person, and," a small smile, "outside of the Department."

Togusa finishes his drink and stands up. "I'll keep you in the loop if anything changes." But they need to think carefully before they make another play at Retrospec.

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Look, if Bruce Wayne shows up, at this point, Togusa has a lot of questions for him anyway

good tho

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