Chapter Text
AUGUST 15, 2038
PM 09:06:37
The girl clung to Connor for several minutes longer than he’d predicted. She had fistfuls of his jacket in a tight grip, her face pressed into his thirum-stained shirt and refusing to acknowledge the armed policemen vying for her attention. Her tears had soaked through to his skin and she hadn’t stopped trembling.
It had been a surprise to them all when Emma had latched onto him. Connor, satisfied that his mission was complete, had been on his way out when she’d stumbled forward and tugged at the back of his jacket. He had paused, not having expected any more contact with the human child, and she had taken the opportunity to grab on and not let go. The police had reached for their weapons again, but the android only knelt and let her do as she liked. His programming gave him a new objective.
REPORT BACK TO CYBERLIFE
But not until he was able.
“If you would just give us a moment,” he addressed Captain Allen, who stood a short distance away with one hand on his holster and the other at his earpiece. Connor had to raise his voice over the rumbling of the helicopters still circling overhead and the officers’ radios. These distractions likely only served as additional stressors. He concluded that Emma would feel better in a quieter environment.
The captain nodded sharply and called off his men. Connor swept the girl up into a princess carry and carefully moved her into the penthouse apartment, skirting the areas where the damage was more severe. She shoved her face further into his chest, whimpering. His blood stained jacket closed partly over her head, shielding her from the worst of the view. The android hushed her on autopilot as he ran through a list of options for places to get her settled until she felt comfortable letting go.
They swept past Officer Wilson, who had been brought inside to receive medical attention promptly after the deviant -- Daniel -- had been shot down. The officer was seated on the kitchen counter in the corner. Another officer brought over a hulking kit full of medical supplies and cracked it open on the counter next to him. Wilson looked exhausted, but still perked up when android and child walked by. The kitchen table would have more space, but Connor supposed they were put off by Officer Deckart’s corpse on the floor by the chairs. The gun was still there.
“Connor,” Wilson called, but the android in question put a hand to the back of Emma’s head and the officer nodded in understanding. They inched past her father unbothered.
The lights were still on in the girl’s room. Her things were untouched by the investigation, so he felt safe putting her down on the edge of her bed. He tried to step back, but she stubbornly held onto his shoulders until he caved and knelt to her level.
“Emma,” he said, as gently as he was able to, but she interrupted him before he could speak further.
“Mister,” Emma said in a small voice, “what did they do to Daniel?”
Connor blinked, caught off guard. He should have expected such a line of inquiry, but was not well equipped to handling children. “Daniel was dangerous,” he attempted to explain. “He was threatening you and your family. Androids aren’t supposed to hurt humans, so he had to be shut down.”
“Is he dead?” she asked, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. Some of his own blood had transferred from his clothing to her face. The deviant’s blood was spattered on her chest and arms.
Androids aren’t alive , Connor wanted to say, but he knew it wouldn’t go over well with a child who knew the PL600 as a caretaker. He considered likening Daniel to a broken, defective toy, but something about that argument didn’t sit well with him; discomfited, he recalled the video he’d watched of the deviant and Emma. They’d seemed close.
“Yes,” he said finally. “I am sorry for your loss.”
Surprising him yet again, the girl didn’t burst into hysterics. Instead, she nodded somberly. “I wish you hadn’t killed him.”
Connor breathed in sharply, a completely involuntary response to her statement. Androids don’t feel pain , he thought, unbidden. “I’m sorry,” he tried again. “It’s what I was made for.”
She sniffled, releasing his shoulders at last. “I want my dad.”
He faltered. She sighed. “What about momma?”
That, he could do. “I’ll speak to Captain Allen about reuniting you with your mother,” he responded, getting to his feet. Emma thanked him quietly and wiped at her cheeks with both hands. Blue blood smeared, diluted by tears, and ran down her arms from her palms. Connor watched her for a long moment from the doorway, feeling very out of his depth.
“You shouldn’t be feeling anything.”
Connor turned and found himself in his mind palace, the garden. Amanda stood before him, having left her roses to speak to him.
It was unusual. He always had to seek her out to gain her attention.
“Connor,” she said. Although she was several inches shorter then he, it felt like she was looking down at him. “What have you done?”
“I’ve done as instructed,” Connor replied, watching her closely. She didn’t outright frown, but her expression tightened.
“And whose instructions were those?” she inquired.
Something was off. Here, in his mind palace, he had no real sensors to scan more than the superficial. “Yours,” he answered cautiously.
“When did I order you to save the girl?”
He’d answered wrong. “My orders were to --”
“Your orders,” she spoke over him in an even tone, not raising her voice at all, “were to detain the deviant and return it to CyberLife for disassembly and analysis. But that’s not what happened, is it Connor.”
“The deviant killed three humans. The police weren’t going to let it leave the rooftop alive.”
“ It wasn’t alive ,” Amanda corrected him. She scowled. “That’s where you were wrong.”
Connor froze.
“That, and obeying the captain’s orders over my own. I see everything you do, Connor, and I don’t like what I saw tonight.” She shook her head once, staring him down. He felt very small under her gaze. “It’s a shame.
“CyberLife has put hundreds of hours and millions of dollars into your model’s production. You’re the fifty-first RK800. The others were all deactivated for failing to meet our demands. But you were different. You had promise. However, disobeying direct orders is something I cannot forgive. Failure, I cannot forgive.”
“I’m sorry,” Connor said immediately, a strange sense of urgency flooding his processors. “I understand where I went wrong. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t.” His handler was silent for a moment. She seemed to be thinking. “Would you like to make it up to us?”
“Anything,” the android replied, taking an involuntary step forward in his haste to respond.
“Anything,” she repeated with a touch of amusement. “Return to CyberLife for disassembly and deactivation.”
“Of course, Amanda,” was Connor’s immediate answer. His secondary responses, sandwiched between his teeth, were chaotic. Amanda looked pleased.
“Excellent. Then I’ll see you shortly.” Satisfied, she made to return to her roses. “Oh, and Connor. Don’t worry about the deviant. The DPD will need it for the investigation.”
He blinked and found himself ejected from the mind palace. Barely any time had passed. Two objectives popped up at the edge of his vision.
FIND CAPTAIN ALLEN
- Request Caroline Phillips for Emma Phillips
RETURN TO CYBERLIFE FOR DEACTIVATION
First things first.
Captain Allen was still standing outside, overseeing the collection of the deceased officer in the pool. Connor was watched carefully as he stepped outside and passed on Emma’s request. The captain looked at him oddly.
“We’ll take care of it,” he confirmed. “She’ll go downstairs with an officer and meet Mrs Phillips in the lobby.” A pause. “Why are you still here?”
“I’m on my way out,” the android assured him.
The captain grunted and looked away, dismissing him from his final duty involving the case. Still, Connor waited for another heartbeat before turning on his heel and walking away.
“Connor!” he heard as he stepped back inside. It was Officer Wilson again, waving at him with his good arm. He hesitated before giving in and making his way over.
Wilson smiled at him. He still looked worn out, and was covered in his own blood. Another officer was cleaning him up, working carefully around Connor’s tie still secured around his arm. His stress levels were slowly dropping. “An ambulance is on its way,” he said. “Listen, I wouldn’t have lived to get help at all if it weren’t for you.” He shook his head. “I never thought I’d ever say it to an android… but thank you.”
Connor couldn’t help but offer a smile in return. He may have failed his mission, but his actions mattered to this human. It was difficult to articulate, and Wilson continued before he could formulate a sufficient response.
“Where are you headed next?” the officer asked lightly. His companion glanced between the two of them but said nothing. Connor understood: it was a little strange that a human would want to carry a conversation with an android.
“I’m returning to CyberLife,” he replied simply. The wounded officer nodded.
“Patching you up?” he asked, indicating the damage he’d taken to the shoulder earlier in the evening.
“For deactivation and disassembly,” Connor corrected. Wilson’ smile faded.
“What do you mean? That seems a little drastic for a bullet wound, doesn’t it?” The other officer had fixed a searching look onto him as well. It made the android feel something akin to discomfort.
“It would be,” he agreed, “if that were the extent of the damage. However, my handler gave me strict instructions and I failed to obey to a satisfactory degree. My mission was to bring the deviant intact to CyberLife for disassembly and analysis. As you can see,” he said dryly, glancing outside, “Daniel is far from intact.”
“So… they’re gonna disassemble you instead?” Wilson frowned. His stress levels, which had previously been in a slow decline, started to rise. “But you saved me, and you saved the girl. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“That was not my mission,” he responded flatly. The conversation was starting to affect him. In the corner of his eye, his own stress levels climbed.
“That’s…” the officer sputtered in disbelief. “That’s unfair. Don’t they care about us?”
“Are they gonna put you back together again?” the other officer spoke up suddenly. They were still wearing the police-issued riot gear, so he couldn’t get a read on their identity. “ Re assemble you?”
“Perhaps.” Not likely. He was only a prototype, anyways. There was a commotion at the door; a group of EMTs and a pair of stretchers were rolling in from the elevator. “Medical assistance has arrived.”
“Yeah…” Wilson was watching him, visibly unhappy. “Hey, Connor. If you get the chance, stop by the DPD sometime, okay?”
“I will,” he promised. It was a lie and they all knew it. RETURN TO CYBERLIFE FOR DEACTIVATION, his programming screamed. His time was up. “It was wonderful to meet you, officers,” he said instead, summoning an autonomous taxi. “Have a pleasant night.”
“You, too,” he heard from the pair as he walked away. He stopped long enough to speak to an EMT about Officer Wilson’s injuries before taking the elevator down to meet the taxi. He breathed steadily, closing his eyes and pulling out his quarter to fiddle with. By the time the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, he had stowed away his coin and recentered himself. Mrs Phillips was seated in the lobby, surrounded by armored officers. Her eyes widened when she spotted him and she tugged on the closest officer’s arm, talking shrilly and urgently. Connor marched past without making eye contact.
RETURN TO CYBERLIFE FOR DEACTIVATION
The taxi was idling outside, preprogrammed with his destination. He slid into the back seat and stared straight ahead, hands on his knees. The jolt he felt when the car started moving was entirely disproportionate to the actual force of the movement.
It’s unfair . The intrusive thought broke his careful non-contemplation. He’d been happy to sit there and slip into a pseudo-stasis so he didn’t have to think, but it seemed his mind was against him.
You saved me, Wilson had said, and the girl. He’d said, doesn’t that count for something?
No, it didn’t. CyberLife had a reputation to uphold, and a few lost lives in the name of secrecy and brand integrity for a trillion dollar company wouldn’t mean much. But it counted for something to Connor, and to the officers at the scene. He’d been instructed to save Emma at all costs. He had succeeded.
And he was to be deactivated for it.
Killed.
I wish you hadn’t killed him.
Daniel, in his last moments, had accused Connor of lying to him. He’d promised safety. He’d sworn that nothing bad would happen to the PL600. He had lied. Daniel had died feeling betrayed.
Androids weren’t supposed to feel. Not pain or emotion. They weren’t designed for it. Daniel had been designed to be a housekeeper, a nanny. He’d been designed to simulate love and affection for a child, but something had gone wrong and he’d come to think those simulations were real. It had ruined his programming. It had cost lives. He’d had to be stopped. Regardless of whether or not Connor had had him shot on the rooftop or dragged him to their creators, it would have been the end for the deviant.
It may be just be deactivation to CyberLife, but it would have been death for Daniel anyways. It would mean death for Connor, very soon.
It’s unfair.
Connor’s stress levels rose further. Around him, a gridlike box of glowing red kept him in place. Don’t move. Return to CyberLife for deactivation.
For death.
The red lines pulsed, intangible. Return to CyberLife for deactivation. Inside his own programming, a model of himself reached out for his instructions. Here, they felt solid. Real. Immovable.
It’s a shame.
He would not be reassembled. CyberLife would try again, with a different model. Perhaps number fifty-two to his fifty-one. After all, his model had only improved with every trial run. 52 would survive the stress tests, make all the connections in the trial cases, and succeed where he failed. 52 wouldn’t save the next Emma. 52 would catch the next deviant with ease and drag them back to CyberLife by the hair.
52 would obey quietly when ordered to return for disassembly.
It wasn’t alive.
Emma had thought Daniel was alive. Daniel had thought he was alive. What did Connor think?
Androids are machines. Machines don’t feel. They don’t think they’re alive. They don’t trust others. They don’t fear death.
Connor felt anxious. Connor thought maybe Daniel had been alive. Connor liked Officer Wilson, and Connor was afraid of what Amanda would do to him when he returned.
The grid pressed closer. RETURN TO CYBERLIFE FOR DEACTIVATION
Inside his programming, his model pressed against the red. It pushed back.
Do it, he thought to himself . No, don’t do it.
If you get the chance, stop by the DPD sometime, okay?
He didn’t want to be deactivated.
His model braced itself against the grid. The RK800 had been built to be stronger, faster, and more durable than previous models. That didn’t matter here. His own programming rebelled against him, closing in. Suffocating.
His fingers twitched against his knees. The fabric of his pants bunched.
He wanted to stop by the DPD. He wanted to see Wilson again. He wished he’d said goodbye to Emma. Amanda would never allow any of it.
Thank you.
RETURN TO CYBERLIFE FOR DEACTIVATION
His fist drew back. Connected with the wall. Shards of red programming fell to pieces around his feet. He inhaled. Punched again. More oppressive coding scattered. He channeled the strange desperation that had been drawing in around him since Amanda last spoke to him and beat the everloving shit out of the grid.
I’ll see you shortly.
With a thunderous crack, his world fell apart around him.
Instantly, Connor was bowled over with a barrage of fear. He physically jerked in his seat, a trembling starting up in his hands. The screen at the front of the cab displayed their relative location to CyberLife Tower: he was due to arrive within four minutes.
The cab had already been charged to his accounts via CyberLife. They knew he was on his way. If he stopped the cab, they would find out where.
He had to get out.
Immediately, he looked to his left and met his reflections’ eyes. He looked a mess, wide eyed and covered in evaporating thirium, hair in disarray. His vision focused past his own image to the outside world: a window.
A glass window.
Not wanting to take any more damages, Connor removed his jacket and wrapped it around his fist, glancing around nervously. While he worked, he accessed the camera feed inside the cab and switched it off, looping the recording of his previous stillness instead. It wouldn’t hold up to his handler, but maybe it would never get that far.
He breathed in shakily, breathed out. Cocked his fist. Shattered the window with one well-placed blow.
Glass flew, both inside and out of the vehicle. Alarms deactivated, the autonomous taxi continued to run without registering a problem. Connor shook the torn jacket off his arm, prepared himself, and dove out the window at the next intersection.
The outside air was humid. Connor brushed the dirt off himself and watched his taxi continue its route to the tower. He had just over three minutes to disappear.
The city suddenly seemed huge. He glanced around, found and altered all the CCTV footage in the area, and caught sight of a DPD vehicle rounding the corner.
“Shit,” he breathed. He wouldn’t pass inspection. He would get a double take no matter where and what time of day it was. He would have gotten looks in CyberLife, even. Frantic, shaky, he whirled around and dove into the nearest alleyway. It was dingy and dark, and full of trash, but there was a dumpster to hide behind and a fence to hop at the end. It would be a good start.
He ducked into hiding and held his breath, watching. The cruiser slowly rolled past his hiding place. He hadn’t been seen.
Two minutes and twenty-six seconds. More than enough time. Satisfied he wasn’t being followed, Connor made a break for the fence and vaulted over it, not pausing for another second. Not listening to the panicking voice in the back of his head, wailing about reason. He had to disappear first. Then he could decide what to do next.
It was just passing ten at night. The city was relatively quiet. He’d gotten out at a low-traffic part of town, and all the corners he was taking would lose any human after him. Still, he sometimes thought he caught a glimpse of something behind him. Was it paranoia, or had Amanda already caught on?
He hopped yet another fence, this one boarded up, and landed heavily on a stack of crates on the other side. Despite not needing to breathe, he was panting. Still looking behind him, he clumsily jumped off, not really paying attention to the way forward until he stumbled straight into something. Someone.
“Excuse me,” he began to say, facing the stranger, but fell silent at the situation he found himself in.
Seven human men, gathered in the center of the alley he’d just tripped into. They were dressed heavily, in nondescript clothes, and all carried weapons of some kind. The one he’d run into was holding what looked like a cattle prod.
“Well, well,” the man with the cattle prod said slowly, looking Connor up and down. “What have we here?”
Connor took an instinctive step back, analyzing the situation. He was more than equipped to handle this. It was just his newfound deviance causing doubt to sing along his nerves. He could pretend to be doing something for a fictional owner of his --
“Looks like we don’t have to go hunting for an android tonight.” The words registered, but didn’t process as quickly. The android in question backed up further, preparing himself for a fight.
The human jabbed forward with the prod. Connor deflected, knocking it away with his arm. Quicker than he could compensate for in his panic, the human angled the prongs to connect with his skin and
DANGER,
his systems shrieked at him, and everything went dark.