Chapter Text
October 22nd, 2038 5:23 PM
Humans aren’t perfect.
That’s a pretty standard opinion that most people can agree on. Humans make mistakes. But the juxtaposition is that it’s almost beautiful how humans can make these mistakes that have an other-worldly impact on their future.
A woman turns left on a street instead of right (like she was supposed to but of course, she wasn’t paying attention), and accidentally runs into a man coming around the corner. She apologizes profusely, stating how clumsy and distracted she is. He laughs, and also apologizes. They exchange numbers, and in 2 years, they’re married with a little one on the way.
Miniscule accidents have a way of showing themselves again in your future. Sometimes they’re great, and make your life much more fulfilling, but sometimes they aren’t. And thats okay, you have the excuse “Well, I’m only human.” and continue on with your life, trying to learn from those mistakes.
You knew you weren’t perfect. It was pretty apparent to you. You made mistakes all the time. You spill your boss’s coffee right as you get in the office, staining your new blouse. But it’s okay, shirts can be replaced and coffees can be bought again. You’re only human.
Androids were designed to be perfect.
They rarely made mistakes, even in the beginning. If they did, they were scrapped, the line of faulty code analyzed, fixed, and implemented into the next model. Android mistakes only had one outcome - being shut down. But that didn’t matter, because androids did not feel, and could not fear the possible mistakes they could make. Android mistakes should not have a lasting impact on the lives of humans. They weren’t human mistakes in a way that humans get into a car drunk, crash, and kill a family of 4. No, android mistakes should only be an arm glitching and not functioning properly, or the voice modulator being off and providing a male voice inside a female android model.
Humans shouldn't have to consider the possibility that their lives would be changed forever because of an android's mistake.
You were doing everything you were supposed to do. You had on your seatbelt. You were driving the speed limit (if not a little under to take into account the dreary weather), both of your hands firmly on the steering wheel. You had been quietly singing along to the song on the radio. You were simply driving home on the highway, matching speed with your neighboring vehicles. You had been absentmindedly moving your index fingers in cadence with your windshield wipers.
This day wasn’t particularly stressful, besides the anomaly that was deviant androids. Your coworkers had been gossiping about the case of an android taking the owner’s daughter hostage that happened a few months prior. A huge mistake, a huge lasting impact on that little girl’s life.
It was a strange event. No one could give reason to why this android lost control. The technical department at the company you worked for - CyberLife - was working day and night trying to find the wrong line of code that could have triggered this. You didn’t let it haunt you though, as your department was the polar opposite. You worked in the humanization department. The only thing that your coworkers and you had to worry about was making sure all androids were aesthetically pleasing. And even then, you weren’t at that level yet. You brought the coffee to the people who had to worry about those things.
As you idly pay attention to the road ahead, an android would run into the street. This would catch you off guard, as androids were programmed to follow all traffic laws. Androids did not jaywalk, especially not on a highway. Androids did not run into oncoming traffic. Androids did not make these mistakes. In reaction to this, you would jerk the wheel to the left, in hopes of missing them.
You did miss them. But you did not miss hitting the construction vehicle in the lane beside you. It was slightly further ahead, and so you would slam on your brakes to try and avoid rear-ending the vehicle, to no avail. The road was slippery. Asphalt oily because of the recently steady drizzle that had begun.
You had blacked out immediately, as your head hit the steering wheel. In what could have been seconds or hours, your eyes fluttered open, stinging as the smoke from your engine slowly seeped into the wrecked car.
People quickly gathered. One man pounded on the driver’s side window as you woke, asking if you were okay.
“ ‘mm- ‘mmfine,” you replied, your head lulling as you struggled to keep your eyes open. You tried to move to get out, or at least take off the seatbelt that had been digging into your side. Typically, you would use your right hand for this, but it wouldn’t move.
You turned your head slightly to the right, and to your horror, you saw a large metal rebar impaled through your arm, just at your elbow. The rebar had struck through your windshield, through your elbow, and into the top of the middle console. You attempted to move your hand. To at least wiggle your fingers. You couldn’t.
You still had function of your left arm, so you attempted to move the strap of the seatbelt that had been digging into your abdomen. Instead of the rough fabric of the seatbelt, your hand met more metal. A scaffolding pole had also made its way through your windshield, and into your lower left abdomen. This pole was longer, and had penetrated through you and through the back of your seat. You were pinned.
You heard a muffled, “everyone get back!” and the driver’s side door being ripped from its hinges. It didn’t even occur to you the extraordinary strength that it might have taken to achieve this. All you could think about was the increasingly apparent sting in your left side, and the more worrisome lack of pain in your right arm.
“The engine is smoking, we have to get her out of there!” Someone had called from the group of people who had gathered. You felt two hands press to your cheeks, a pair of golden brown eyes looking into yours, not with worry exactly, but with the determination to achieve a goal. His eyes scanned your entire face, stopping at yours as he examined them. You examined them as well, at least as much as you could in your state. There was something there. Something familiar.
“There is no apparent head trauma, besides a few lacerations. She’ll have a bruise. Her pupils are dilated normally, and she seems to be aware of her surroundings. Miss?” You had started to drift off as he was talking. Your eyes were so heavy, and the smoke was making them dry. You felt a slight pat on the side of your cheek.
“Miss? I need you to wake up please. I can’t confirm if you have a concussion or not, so please stay awake.” You had scrunched your nose at this request, groaning a bit as you peeled your eyes open again.
“We need to get her out without removing the poles,” A gruff voice said from behind the brown-eyed man. “If we try and take them out now, she could bleed to death. Especially the one in her stomach.” The brown-eyed man turned to look at the gruff one, the LED on the side of his temple shining a steady yellow. This was the first indication that he was an android.
Androids did not bother you. You worked with them everyday, even had a few that, if it was more appropriate, you would consider friends. People had prejudices, but androids did a lot for the world. They did a lot of good, which could not be said for most humans.
You wanted to say something. Anything to thank this android for even attempting to help, even if you were a little peeved that you couldn’t go to sleep. But all you could get out was another groan.
“I know, hun,” the gruff man said in response to your pain. “I’ve already called an ambulance, but this has caused a bad jam. They’re doing everything they can to get to you.”
“I wouldn’t typically suggest moving her as we have no proof of a neck or back injury, but I’ve scanned the engine, and I don’t think we have long until it bursts into flames.” The android said, scanning the surrounding area while still holding on to your face. He seemed to have seen what he was looking for as he perked up and turned back to the gruff man.
“Hank?” The android asked, giving the gruff man, who responded immediately, a name.
“What do I need to do?” He asked, as if he immediately knew the android needed him for something.
“Hold her face like I am, thumbs on her chin and fingers behind her neck as far as you can. Keep her steady. Do not jostle her. I need to…” His voice trailed off as his hands left your face and were replaced by rougher ones.
“What’s your name, hun?” he asked. You answered, your mouth dry and your throat aching. This caused you to cough, which then caused the metal pole in your side to move. Your face scrunched in reaction to the pain, but you did not scream.
“Think I met a girl once with that name. Good gal. Solid name.” he was obviously grasping at straws trying to keep the conversation going and keeping you awake.
Even in pain, in a life threatening situation, you made time for sarcasm.
"Thanks, I got it for my birthday." This made Hank chuckle.
"I like you. You've got spunk." He said as the android came back, some electrical tool - maybe a saw - in his hands that he had gotten from the work truck.
An irrational part of you thought the worse.
“You are not cutting my arm off with that thing,” you protested. The android came into your field of view, so he could look you in the eyes again. Hank moved over slightly to make room, but did not move his hands. You got a better look at his face, but your vision was still blurry with tears. You tried to blink them away, but they seemed neverending.
“Of course not. I’m not concerned about being able to remove the rebar from the middle console without cutting it. It does not seem to be imbedded deep. I am concerned about the pole here. We can’t move you without at least cutting this where it meets the steering wheel and where it goes through at the back of the seat. Even then, we’ll have to carefully move you and the bar from the seat.”
As he explained, you felt the heat of the engine fire as it began to grow stronger.
“Damnit!” Hank yelled. “Quit your yapping and get to it.”
“Hold her steady, don’t let her move.” The android stated firmly. More hands reached in, probably belonging to some of the bystanders. Someone yelled for a fire extinguisher, but even in your state, you knew the improbability of that helping. You could start to hear sirens, but they were quickly drowned out by the sound of the saw behind you.
The pole vibrated, even if the people around you did their best to keep it still. Your left hand desperately gripped onto Hank’s arm as he kept his hands at your face. It was painful, but not unbearable. You were more scared of the small flames that began to billow in front of you. The tears were flowing freely now.
“Got it!” He yelled from behind you. He ran to the passenger side, ripping the door open and climbing in. He set the saw down on the seat, grabbing at the rebar right where it impaled through your arm, his hand directly under your elbow. He then grabbed at the rebar where it stuck into your car, and in one swift movement, ripped it out of the car center console.
You let out a quick yelp, more in the expectance of pain rather than the actual feeling. Your whole arm had gone numb. He took no time to set your arm across the console so that he could reach over with the saw and began cutting through the pole, leaning with one knee in the seat, and the other foot at the floor of the car.
His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. The saw sparked as it met the metal, and you flinched, turning your head away. He noticed this, and one of his hands left the saw and met your face, blocking it from the sparks.
The saw cut through the pole all the way, and he quickly exited the passenger seat. As he did, the fire under what was left of the hood of the car erupted more, angrily hissing.
The android threw the saw to the ground as he ran to the driver’s side.
“Excuse me, Lieutenant,” he said, even in the hurry not holding back the pleasantries. Hank must have been in the police force. The android must have been his.
“But her neck?” Hank protested. The android shook his head as he began the reach behind your back. His hands rested just above and below where the pole exited your back.
“No time. I’m 97% sure she does not have a spinal injury. Go to the backseat, and on my count, push the pole through the seat. I’ll move her at the same time.” Hank had already gone to the backseat.
“1…” You braced yourself.
“2…” A bystander grabbed your left hand comfortingly. You couldn’t see their face, but you were grateful nonetheless.
“3!” You were pushed forward. It hurt, but the android had done well at keeping you moving with the pole, so it hadn’t moved much. He quickly brought his arms under your legs and along your back, using that hand to grab the rebar that impaled your arm, and whisked you away from the seat.
You hadn’t noticed how close you were to the fire. Your face met the cool air from outside, slightly burning from the close contact to the flames. The rain had slowed, but the steady sprinkles of water that hit your face were soothing compared to the heat.
As you were removed from the car, the ambulance had finally made its way through, along with a fire truck, and a few police cars. The crash had almost nearly blocked traffic, only one lane on the four lane highway was moving.
You were quickly moved to the ambulance, the paramedics leaping from the back. They were taken aback at first, not expecting you to be brought directly to them. The android held you close as he climbed into the back, setting you on the gurney and laying you on your left side.
He began rattling off all the information he had, giving a perfect rendition of what had occurred. To your surprise, he even gave your vitals that he had apparently been taking while he was holding your face.
One of the paramedics began working on you, wrapping a neck brace around you even after the explanation that the likelihood of a spinal injury was low. The other paramedic placed a hand on the android’s shoulder, and he turned. They exchanged looks, and he brought his arm up, and the paramedic did as well.
You hadn’t noticed the “Android” text on the back of that paramedics uniform, but that was the only explanation to this interaction. He was exchanging all the information he had to this paramedic in a matter of seconds.
“Thank you,” The android medic said. “We’ll take it from here.”
The android who most likely saved your life from certain doom nodded, and began to exit the ambulance.
“Wait!” You protested, your voice muddled through the ventilator mask that had been quickly put over your face. You shimmied your good arm out from under you and lifted the mask. “Wait!”
The android turned, and walked closer to you, kneeling at your side. The LED on the side of his head had turned back to the standard blue after coming to an almost resolution to a risky situation.
You saw him more clearly, and you knew there was something there in his face that you recognized. It was killing you that you couldn’t pin point it. Maybe you did have a concussion.
“I don’t know your name,” You said quickly. “I want to thank you.” His head tilted slightly at the statement. Maybe he was confused on why you asked, or even cared. Most humans didn’t bother in thanking androids for anything, and androids didn’t expect thanks.
“My name is Connor.” He stated. Connor. That did it.
You noticed his model number on his jacket. RK800. One of his kind. There were currently no others in production, as he was a prototype. A prototype that was one of the first that you actually had a hand in designing months ago. He had recently successfully saved a child from the rogue android you had been thinking about earlier.
“Connor.” You repeated. You reached out, and placed your hand on his upper arm. “Thank you.”
His eyebrows furrowed again, and for a split second, you saw the LED flash red. But just as quickly, it changed back to blue. You almost believed you imagined it.
Connor nodded. “You’re welcome. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m in the way. And you need to go to the hospital.” He stood up, your hand falling from his arm.
He turned and walked out of the ambulance, and if the paramedics hadn’t closed the doors immediately as he got out, you might have noticed him touch the spot on his arm that you had held as he walked.
The LED on his head flashed crimson again.