Deviance

Chapter 3 - A Change of Plans

Connor had far too many things to analyze and yet he didn't want to think about a single one of them. He threw up. He hadn't shot the deviant Traci. Hank pointed a gun at him and he'd admitted to fear. He felt pain and disgust in the backlash of memories that weren't even his when he should feel nothing at all. He was... Defective. That was the only word the android could think to describe any of it. Defective.

"Connor, are you just gonna glare at that crack in the sidewalk all night or are we gonna go home?" Hank interrupted the android's thoughts after who knows how long. Connor should've known how long. He should have been recording and analyzing everything. He should know, but he didn't.

"Do not feel obligated to remain here because of me, Lieutenant. Go home. You're already three hours past optimal resting time if we are to begin work on time tomorrow." Connor encouraged softly, still never taking his eyes off said crack in the sidewalk even when the sound of his partner pulling himself off the park bench with a strained groan could be heard.

"Connor, I drove you out here, I'm not just gonna leave you in some park." Hank sighed exasperatedly as if this information should've already been obvious from the start.

"Android's do not experience fatigue, Lieutenant. Walking would not be an inconvenience to me." Connor reminded his companion softly but moved to follow the policeman anyway as Hank began walking towards the car, getting the distinct impression Hank wasn't leaving without him whether Connor liked it or not.

"Yeah, well, it would still be an asshole thing to do." Hank responded shortly as he finally approached the old, rundown car and pulled open the front door to climb in. Connor briefly thought about suggesting he drive considering the lieutenant looked drained and had already drunk more than one bottle of beer but something in his processing told the android Hank wouldn't let him behind the wheel at the moment.

With this knowledge in mind, Connor walked calmly to the opposite side of the vehicle and climbed inside, pulling himself into the dusty passenger seat and shutting the door behind him with a quiet click as he pulled his legs together and placed his hands on top of them. Hank's car smelled of grease and booze, dust flitted through the air with every touch of a surface and the air conditioning had long since given up on life. It should, logically, be an uncomfortable environment considering all of this but something about it made Connor relax in a way. The car wasn't like the rest of the world, programmed to do everything on its own and kept in perfect, unmarred order of pristine artificiality. It was imperfect, and dirty, and real.

"Jesus, Connor. Can't you sit like you haven't got a stick shoved up your ass for two minutes?" Hank sighed incredulously as he jammed the silver, metal key into the ignition and cranked it to the right, bringing the vehicle to life with a stuttering roar that indicated minor engine problems Connor was already beginning to analyze as they spoke. "Relax! We're in a car, not a conference!" The policeman huffed disbelievingly, rolling his eyes dramatically at the android before turning around to look behind the car as he began to reverse out of the parking lot before turning front ways again to begin driving away from the empty park.

"Sorry, Lieutenant." Connor apologized swiftly, forcing his limbs to relax into the fraying fabric of the seat cover as best he could without much success. His nerves were wired, both literally and metaphorically at the moment as his mind reanalyzed the events of the evening and there was no hope of relaxation even if that had been something the android was capable of. Connor was not designed to relax. He was designed to handle tasks and complete his missions. He was not built for idle behavior.

The android reached into the pocket of his dress pants and produced his quarter instead, the feeling of the cool metal against his synthetic skin a grounding sensation that was equal parts familiar as it was stabilizing. No longer having keeping his limbs in the rigid posture of professionalism to concern himself with, Connor focused instead on flicking the coin from hand to hand, running the small item over his fingers and through his digits in a complex pattern of careful focus and complete precision.