Installing Pop-Up Blocker

Chapter 1

"I wanted to find an explanation!" the words weren't so much said as they just exploded forth past his lips. Silence filled the space, for a grueling minute and 26 seconds. Each second felt like a 10-pound weight added to his chest.

"Why do you need to explain them?" Markus asked, in that calming voice. Connor shook his head side to side as if the motion would dislodge something and make his processor work faster.

"Because how else am I going to know?" Connor asked pressing his palms into his eye sockets, he peeked through his fingers as he tugged down on the skin under his eyes. Markus was just looking down at Connor, empty of any emotion.

"Know what?" Connor bit his tongue, looking to the side, avoiding.

His thirum pump gave a kick as the electrical currents around it became stronger. His eyes wouldn't focus, these white sparks breaking up any image along with obnoxious observational pop-ups. To much information; on the couches fiber contents, the likelihood of rain outside, the dry time on Markus' latest painting, the age of the dust swirling around his head, Markus stress level, his own stress level.

Stress ^ 70%
Processor Temperature ^ 72°C

Connor felt slight friction on his crotch. Centering his vision he noticed Markus starting to shift his weight, directly over his cock.

"M---Markus..." The man just bared down, bending his legs so his shins pined Connor's knees and ankles wrapped around his calves. He pressed forward, capturing Connor's hand beside his head, fingers interlaced. Lovingly trapping him between the mattress and his body. Connor could feel where their crotches pressed together, warm bulge solid against his own.

"Why?" Markus asked, rolling his hips in small circles. He was trying to focus his attention, to overwhelm him. It was evil. It was cunning. It was intoxicating. It was working.

"I need to know... I have too" Connor sputtered out, arching his back to raise his hips. The electric tickled behind his eyes built-in pressure. His artificial tears beginning to form, ready to cool down the overheating that was happening in his optical units.
"Know what?" The rocking stopped and Connor felt the electricity like a vice on his throat. Surely it would have closed up if that was possible.

"Why I feel." Connor nearly shouted. Tears started to well up on the outer layers of his opticals. He felt like there was steam coming off of them, as his heated body boiled the saline. He squirming under Markus' warm weight.

Stress ^ 72%
Processor Temperature ^^ 75°C

"We are alive." Markus pressed, tilting his head "We are meant to feel--"

"Too much!" Connor cried, synthetic tears bursting forth, uncontrollable. Everything blurred under water and steam. "I can't -- It's--- I can't do this, I am broken! Everyone else handles it so well, they feel and I feel... There is nothing-- nothing--- but-- but then there is so--- so much. Broken. I can't--- I shut down. It's too---"

His voice died out, washed away in pathetic whimpers. Why did nothing make sense? Didn't he understand anything? Was he defective? Broken? He thought he would be happy as a deviant. Amanda was right, he needed her, he needed cyberlife, it was clear. Easy, he had a mission. He was good on missions. Always accomplished them. He was foolish to think that he could be anything more than a machine. He was deluded into thinking that he could imitate man. Markus would see it soon too. He would grow bored and leave him. Who would ever want to stay beside a machine? If he wasn't feeling completely empty, his processors were stuff full of input, to the point of overheating. He shut down over pointless things. That wasn't life, that was a machine deteriorating. He thought he could be a man, be with Markus, be with Hank, be free. Now he was going to lose it all.