etrayalogs | l’aimer toujours

[One finger presses deeply into his sketchbook. How the soul desires to pick up a brush and paint. Even to draw would be a pleasure.]

You agree art is about emotion. What, then, are the scrawlings of these constructs?

[If art is about emotion, their works include emotion by definition. But if one must be alive to feel emotion, are they as sentient as a human? And what does that make their art?]

Edited 2025-08-29 02:11 (UTC)

[The scientist in Kirk comes out again]

At the very least, simulations and estimates of what organic beings would do. It entirely depends on how they were programmed. Are they puppets whose strings are controlled by another party? Or are they so advance that they are capable of independent and complicated thoughts? At that point, they're not puppets but something more.

It's complicated working out if and how artificial intelligence resembles the sentience of organic beings.

[In the back of his mind, Kirk is reminded of Will and how advance his own creations were. His replica of Tina seemed so real...]

Perhaps it is complicated simply because some refuse to consider the possibility they are alive.

[In the sense of possessing sentience. Renoir stretches his palm across the cover of his sketchbook, working his fingers against the jacket.]

I am not rushing to judgement in this on one side or the other. I know little about the science of examining such a question. But one needs emotion to create true art, and if one possesses the capacity for emotion, then it stands to reason they can feel.

[And if you can feel? Then are you real?]

[Kirk nods. It's as good of a reason as any]

The existential questions about sentience are not easy to answer. Science can only go so far.

[His other hand rests atop the wrist of the one stretched across his sketchbook.]

Then permit me to ask you. What defines sentience?

As you've said, emotions are large parts. Agency is another. How capable is one in making their own decisions?

[Kirk would not call himself a philosopher but he's game to have these sorts of discussions]

[His hands draw together, fingers sliding across each other, before they resettle on his work. One moment to digest the argument, then his thumbs press together.]

What of those capable of making decisions within defined guidelines?

That depends on the guidelines. Plus, a moral compass is like a guideline. So in that sense, we all run on guidelines.

[Kirk doesn't show it in his expression but he has noticed how the man keeps touching his notebook]

[A moral compass? He knows a girl who would spit that he lacks anything of the sort.]

But would you say those guidelines matter more than one's nature when it comes to free will?

Nature is also a factor but not the only factor. Sometimes, it's not the most influential one. In science, sometimes there are debates if a subject's nature shaped them into what they are now or if it's because of how they were nurtured. More often than not the truth is much more nuanced.

[Kirk still struggles on if he's just a monster trying to find excuses to justify his actions. But there are others, like Hernan, where he's more inclined to believe they are not defined by just where they came from]

Of course it would be.

[He understands little of science. But he understands art, and because of that he appreciates colours are mixed and combined, creating numerous layers of nuance.]

Life is a constant flow of experience and memories. Some memories we forget but some we remember decades after the experience that created them. Some we recollect vividly from childhood.

[He does not. For he is one of those who knows they are not.]

Everything is an experience in the end, no?

[Kirk nods]

In most cases, we are not forever locked based on where we came from. Most are capable of learning and that comes from experiences.

Perhaps so.

[Renoir aligns his sketchbook in the low light. His fingers carees the edges for a moment before it is shrouded in energy; blackness so deep that resembles a void that sparks gold. The book disappears before their eyes.

His hand reaches for the side of the table as he supports himself with a hand, rising to his feet while his fingers grasp his cane.]

I would say this has been a pleasant conversation. Perhaps it is one we might enjoy again.

[His words are polite. He means everything he says. But when he returns his chair under the table, he leans upon his cane, revealing it to be a familiar black and gold.]

[Kirk’s expression doesn’t change but the way the old man dismisses his sketchbook intrigues him. There’s still a lot about magic he doesn’t know about.

But then he notices the cane. There’s just the slightest intake of breath. He remembers Hernan’s account of when he was attacked]

Indeed. If you don’t mind me asking, what is your name?

[Kirk needs to learn at least that much]

It’s not often I have these kinds of conversations.

[His chin tilts up in a display of pride.]

Renoir.

[He speaks his name with gravitas. One name alone can be imposing and decisive, protective of his command of the situation. He could share his full name but has no need to invoke his lineage in this moment. His family is something sacred, not something casual to share.]

[Kirk politely nods. It’s an interesting coincidence that he was talking about art to someone name Renoir]

Kirk. Thank you for indulging my curiosity. Art has become something I’m interested in learning and discussing more about, even though I don’t have the right hands for it.

[Perhaps he can eventually learn more about how he managed to hurt Hernan too]

Edited 2025-08-31 17:10 (UTC)

I lack the hands for science. Or perhaps the patience.

[There is more behind the reason why but understands that is his reality. He rolls his shoulders beneath his coat.]

C'est la vie.

[That's life, right?]

[Kirk nods in agreement. Not everyone can be drawn to science like him]

We all have our strengths and weaknesses.

[Renoir rests his free hand upon the wrist of the one holding his cane. His head bows in acknowledgement of what he knows is true.]

Our imperfections.

[He views them as something worthwhile. But he knows from personal experience others do not.]

[Behind his red goggles, Kirk briefly glances at the cane again]

Yes. Imperfections are what makes each of us unique and helps keep life dynamic. In a way, a more colorful canvas when there are occasional splatters as opposed to always having clean shapes and colored within the lines.

[His mind makes little of that glance. What is there to suspect? People tend to notice something out of the ordinary. Though a man with a cane is not an unfamiliar sight.]

The more you colour outside the lines, the more you think you feel, but the less you actually see. Artists like myself need to learn to use those lines. But they cannot be all of your work. The true essence of painting is simply to convey your passion. Your ideas should come after, when your work is finished.

[While Kirk still has plenty of questions about Renoir, he has little doubt about how much the man cares about art]

In that case, is it possible that the final result is different from what you originally planned?

Is that relevent? There might be some initial motion, some invisible force guiding your hand. Your intentions might evolve. But the result will be related to that spark of inspiration that moved you.

[He gently gestures his hand.]

Perhaps it all depends on your definition of planning.

[To him planning is a technical term. He drafts a basic form but nothing else - and even that is subject to change.]

True. Sometimes the best results come from what wasn't planned.

[Many scientific discoveries were pure accidents after all]

[The remark earns a rare moment of feeling at ease. He feels some tension escape his shoulders as his muscles begin to relax, though he keeps his distant expression of neutrality.]

Those moments are the most exciting. If only the rest of life could be so perfect, no?

[It's an expression, a play on words. Why would a man who enjoys imperfections want a perfect life?]

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