Installing Pop-Up Blocker

Chapter 1

"I was finished with work so decided to research emotions."

Hank's left brow joined the right as he leaned back into his roller chair. The creaking of plastics as he rubbed a hand across his temple.

"And what did this research tell you? Actually better fucking question; why?"

"I am trying to understand deviancy." Connor stonily replied, just watching Hanks skin wrinkle as he rubbed his forehead left his processor hot like it was trying to fulfill an objective that didn't exist. His nails began to dig ever so slightly into his synthetic skin.

Stress ^ 39%
Processor Temperature ^ 69°C

"Connor, you're not still fixating on your old mission programming are you?" Hank was tired, his words were 10% slower than normal for the end of the day, the most probable reason being he had stayed up for the game last night. Yet that probably left an open end, was Hank tired because of him?

Stress ^ 42%

"No." He said, a little too loud. "I simply am trying to understand what I am going through. It continues to elude me. I have gone through all the material I could find yet it still does not provide insight into these..."

Feelings? Emotions? Scrambled coding? Fraying wires? Miss fired electricity?

"Ah hell kid, that is something we are all trying to do." His partner said, leaning his head against his fist against the arm of the chair. Why did Hank seem so annoyed? He asked Connor what he was doing yet seemed upset by him answering. "It's one of the cornerstones of being human."

Over his tired face, popped up a dialogue box.
The weight of the world on my shoulders.
A throwaway line used by hundreds of authors, dozens of musicians and uttered to near meaninglessness. What was the point of conveying emotion if all the sayings meant nothing in the end? The complete pointlessness of it all made him grip his fists tighter.

"Something that I have been made of aware of since the moment I found you at Jimmy's Bar," Connor said, his jaw tensing up, the inside of his cheek pinched between molars.

Hank just sighed, pushed the hair out of his eyes, "Right kid, we should probably head home. Need to walk Sumo before it rains." Hank grumbled, snatching up his leather jacket off the back of his chair. Connor turned off both their monitors, restacking Hank's scattered files. Headed for the door, Hank made a pit stop to knock Gavin's feet off his desk. A hardy "Fuck you!" following them out of the bullpen.

They climbed into the rusted impala silently, Hank even seemed to silence his groans as he sank into the beaten down seat. "Alright, we gotta stop at the store on the way home?" clicking in his seat belt as he asked.

"No, there should be a food delivery in about an hour," Connor replied, knocking a discarded soda cup on the floor in the passenger compartment. It felt cramped. He felt cramped. His palms felt hot and numb in his lap and the air in the car felt stale. A solid mass felt like it was forming out of nothing in his belly and the electricity in his neck started to spread down to his shoulders. As he tried to scan the rolling clouds, transparent boxes popped into existence.

Urgent task:
Talk with Markus
Optional task:
Understand deviancy

"Could you drop me off at Jericho?" Connor asked, looking down at the slowly fading half moons embedded in his palms.

"Yeah... sure, of course, son," Hank said turning over his engine which popped and gurgled into life. Clouds were starting to roll in, bringing with it humid rains that matted Sumo's fur and gave Hank back sweat stains. The streets were filled with people, humans, and androids, heading from point A to B. People ducking in and out of stores, always keeping on eye on the sky.