Derek nods. That's what he's thinking, too, exactly. Their morale is up from tonight and their bodies are being more thoroughly nourished through actual food rather than coked up soylent, so the performance will be up from today's and yesterday's logs. "Yeah, 'Friend' Computer offered to put more shit in the soylent when I suggested it wasn't nutritious enough and I had to change tack because that's the fucking last thing we need is more shit in the soylent. Because it's not bad enough. So yeah, good call."
Though when she continues, sounding amused, Derek's eyes narrow with frustration. "I was thinking more Steve's fans, or all of us collectively, but when you're finished being cute about it, maybe you can look at it the way I am: people are talking about us — all of us. They want to know us, they want to be like us, they want us around and they like us. They can't all be lower level citizens if Steve is Mr. #27 or whatever those stupid posters all over the place boast. So we cater to them. You never know if someone way up the chain might think they're in love with you," he says, frowning and looking rather annoyed at her teasing. "So we exploit their interest. Make them useful."
His eyes shift away from her again and he's still put out that he's not entirely sure she's taking him seriously, but as far as Derek is concerned, the fact of the matter is that those stupid chat logs are anonymous, or at least they have been up to this point. For all they know, someone at the very tip top has been squealing like a school girl in them and once they feel they've been noticed and appreciated, they might be inclined to bend some rules just for their favorite Special, whoever he or she might be. Quite frankly, Derek is hoping that the favorite is not, in fact, him.
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Though when she continues, sounding amused, Derek's eyes narrow with frustration. "I was thinking more Steve's fans, or all of us collectively, but when you're finished being cute about it, maybe you can look at it the way I am: people are talking about us — all of us. They want to know us, they want to be like us, they want us around and they like us. They can't all be lower level citizens if Steve is Mr. #27 or whatever those stupid posters all over the place boast. So we cater to them. You never know if someone way up the chain might think they're in love with you," he says, frowning and looking rather annoyed at her teasing. "So we exploit their interest. Make them useful."
His eyes shift away from her again and he's still put out that he's not entirely sure she's taking him seriously, but as far as Derek is concerned, the fact of the matter is that those stupid chat logs are anonymous, or at least they have been up to this point. For all they know, someone at the very tip top has been squealing like a school girl in them and once they feel they've been noticed and appreciated, they might be inclined to bend some rules just for their favorite Special, whoever he or she might be. Quite frankly, Derek is hoping that the favorite is not, in fact, him.