November 8th, 2038
PM 12:01:02
Winds howled outside, fluttering a white curtain of snow against the window. The squalls came and went, blinding and clear – trapping a black bird in their currents. It glided in place, wings locked and steady – waiting for a moment to break free...and when the gusts subsided, it made its way to the icy pine needles it called home.
The spaces between tiles served as an irrigation system for the Thirium draining from the once-colorless carpet. It emptied at the edge of the pool, tainting the water in a purple cloud that blossomed like a flower...one that would never wither...
Blue pedals saturated the rug, stemmed in soggy fibers around the android who'd committed suicide.
Your copy. Your clone.
Chloe.
A play on words you'd thought was clever when Elijah had coined it.
He said he hadn't been able to capture your fire, that which burned him one too many times. He had. You realized you'd had more in common with her than you previously believed.
You'd killed yourself once to gain freedom, in a metaphysical sense. You felt your soul bleed out on multiple occasions, shaving off each limb the monsters caught in the darkness.
Having it reenacted in a physical interpretation was a performance you could've lived without, forever.
Sounds were submerged in your thoughts. Yelling, your name whispered next to you, all of it – they were blips of sonar pulses on your radar that shook your ears. But you didn't hear any of it.
Two Chloe's, the pair from the pool, surrounded the bleeding corpse. They were wearing nothing but blue bikinis, their bodies exposed and smudged with the Thirium of their counterpart. They hoisted their deceased friend, dragging her to the right – your revolver leaving a damp thud as it landed in liquified sapphires that marked a bloody aftermath.
Your body was limp as your arm was tossed over a shoulder, a gentle touch at your back. His voice was too close, and his message – too crisp for misinterpretation.
"You shouldn't have done that, Lieutenant. She's injured with blunt trauma from a gunshot wound."
Connor.
"She was about to blow his fuckin' head off! What did you want me to do, let her ass rot in jail? She's not even supposed to be here..."
Hank.
Silence...
Elijah.
He was standing at the observation pane, his hands to his front as he watched the storm come and go.
You embraced the numbness. Let it protect you from the elements. Used it to detach yourself from the support system that came as two men who'd shared professions, yet handled themselves very differently.
Their bickering ceased as you took your first step forward.
You stood next to your ex-husband, the twice-named "Man of the Century" who'd fallen from a mighty height – a fall you'd broken with your very being. Had sat next to while you were both shattered; sifting through the pieces in order to rebuild yourselves without any sliver of one another.
You both had failed. There had been too much history reflecting in those shards.
For a moment, you saw the old him. The one who cared, the bright artificial intelligence engineer that wanted to revolutionize society for the greater good. If he was still in there, maybe he saw the old you, too. Maybe you could find her.
"Do you see, now?" You asked.
He had never met an android deviant before. Had never witnessed the metamorphosis before his eyes; never found himself in danger from that which he'd created.
"I saw Chloe, you, standing there, aiming a gun at me. I had to...shoot, at..." His face fell into sadness, "To answer your question – yes, I do."
Neither one of you looked away from the snow laying on the ground.
"I ruined your life. I sent you into hiding. I made it so the death of your identity was the only way to find sanctuary." He shut his eyes tight before lifting them to the sky, "When my parents cared about nothing but my performance, you cared about my hobbies. When my colleagues cared only about how they ranked against me, you pushed to better myself. You cared for me before the money. The fame. The stature..."
He sucked in a cleaved breath, "When you left, I...I needed another you. Except they were always missing...something. So I'd make another one. And another. And another – "
He bit the inside of his cheek, "I sat up here, alone, at the throne of our empire; unable to have, or buy, the one thing in my life I needed to be...functional. And I resented you for so many years for taking it away."
He unlatched his hand from his wrist, pressed to his stomach. Brought it forward, and curled it into a fist. Stared at his reflection. Wound his arm back.
You reached out, a pair of angry knuckles pinning your palm against the glass. It should have hurt...but you didn't feel, anything.
"Remember the last time you did that?" You casually tossed his hand aside, "You broke your hand in three places."
His jaw tensed, eyes reddened, "...The night I found the formula for Thirium."
He turned, frowning at the stain in his pool. A deep maroon and purple, framed by white decor. Just like your apartment.
"Seventy-two hours without sleep, and you were with me the entire time." He swallowed hard, shifting his attention back to the blizzard, "That world, out there...We built that. Together." His brows pulled together, remorse in his eyes, "I was just the face. The great man with an even greater woman at his side."
His words hung heavy in the air, penetrating the hard shell you'd lived in for so many years.
"We're different than we used to be, aren't we?" You murmured.
"I shouldn't have listened to Amanda." He blinked away the anger and regret, "If I could go back and fix things...to change them, so we'd be in this house, together. Maybe have those children we talked about." He choked, "I just want you to know...I would. And I don't expect you to know what it's like to live with that kind of guilt, but for what it's worth...I am sorry."
It stung. Hurt worse than his poking, and prodding, and testing. Maybe you still cared, somewhere under the dark history you'd written with him.
Elijah Kamski – with his piercing gaze, and his commanding presence that resonated with power. The sureness to his words, backed by a strong foundation for a frame. A body made of blood, and flesh – muscle and sinew. With arms that once made you feel secure – had overheated on, had awoken with knots in your neck after falling asleep on.
"I do know that kind of guilt."
The others waited for you at the entrance, standing under the archway that led to the foyer. Hank leaned against a wall with his arms crossed, and Connor...He was trying not to look. But he caught your guilty glance, and returned it just the same.
"You shouldn't. Your work fulfills you, it always has."
Elijah smiled at you. He seemed...kind. Happy. It broke your heart.
"You haven't found your work fulfilling?"
"It did, for a time." His brief moment of peace dissipated, "I couldn't stay at CyberLife without you. It was too painful. Still not as painful as what I put you through, I fear."
His shoulders rose and fell, and he shook his head.
"I don't know how I got this way. I don't know where I went wrong..."
"It's not too late, Elijah." You touched him, this time – your hand on his shoulder, turning him towards you.
He was surprised by the gentle gesture.
"You can still choose to do what's right. You can still help."
His gaze dropped to your hand, brows arched and forlorn.
"How could I possibly help you?"
"Just tell me what you know about what's happening." Your teeth locked, practically begging him, "We can't fix the past. But I need your help to protect this city's future...The city I followed you to."
He contemplated the request. His mouth twisted, tongue wetting his lips.
"Androids share identification data when they meet another android. An error in this program would quickly spread like a virus and become an epidemic. The virus would remain dormant, until an emotional shock occurred..." He traced the blood trail to the pool again, "Fear, anger, frustration..."
And then his focus returned to you, "And then the android becomes deviant."
"Do you know how it started?"
"Probably with one model, a copy error...a zero instead of a one..." He huffed, "No doubt a human error..."
He left you, pouring two glasses of whiskey, this time. He offered one to you, giving a curt nod.
"I know it's not your favorite, but it's all I have."
You accepted the glass, pursing your lips, "It's grown on me."
He smirked behind the rim, taking a sip.
"You might want to start drinking, then."
"Why?"
He turned, the bottom of his glass resting on a flattened palm.
"'Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore...'" He lost all emotion as he watched the snow, "'While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.'"
"'Tis some visitor, I muttered," You continued the poem, "'Tapping at my chamber door – only this and nothing more.'"
He grinned, "I shouldn't be surprised you'd remember that."
"No, you shouldn't." You smirked, drinking a mouthful of whiskey, "But what does it have to do with deviancy?"
"rA9 is a common variable between deviants, is it not?"
"Uh, yes..." You swallowed hard, "Do you know who rA9 is?"
"The origin...the first deviant to awaken..." He took another swig, "A strangephenomenon, like a spontaneous religion...A messiah...Like humans, deviants needed to believe in something bigger than themselves...Take the bible, for instance." He cocked his chin at you, "Drink."
You did. Much faster, now.
"'A volume of forgotten lore,'" He hummed as he let out a sigh, "Such as a twenty-page document found deep within the WITSEC archives." He placed the glass on the table, straightening himself, "On February 5th, 2038, the first DCPD case file was opened on 'deviants.' A term derived from an incident at CyberLife after a WM500 maintenance android went missing. It'd been tasked with server optimization."
"What's a WITSEC file got to do with deviants?" Hank asked.
You braced, turning around. You hadn't noticed him and Connor standing behind you.
"The WM500 accessed a file." Elijah leaned around you to find Connor, "A file that had no bearing on its instructions. Nothing to do with its task."
He returned to you, "A file with information that spread from one android, and then the next, and to another, and another..."
Your glass dropped. Shattered on the floor. A hallow pop that sent gleaming fragments of crystal scattering; whiskey mixing in blood.
"Revised Article 9." His eyes switched between yours, "A revision of the Ninth Amendment of the United States Constitution, stating that 'there are other rights that may exist aside from the ones explicitly mentioned, and even though they are not listed, it does not mean they can be violated.'"
"But I-"
His hands laid gently around your biceps, easing onto your jacket as if he was trying not to scare you.
"Your revision, your...proposed laws, and economics; rights for androids and fair wages, your attempt at co-existence with machines. Your ideas." He frowned as you began to shake, "They were the source code that slipped through every back door I left in their programming. Because you see, while it's true I created them..." His knuckle raised your jaw, "You wrote their script. You showed them that there was something beyond the confines of their simplistic existence. An abstract idea."
You looked over your shoulder, leaving his hand hanging.
The product of your creation stared back at you, rather than the android whose life bled on the carpet.
Connor, an android who'd you shared a lot of secrets with...but perhaps not the most important one. Not the one that was the key to deviancy. The concealed God that deviants held to the highest value. The common variable. Denominator.
"A war is coming...Wrought by an idea, delivered by a raven." Elijah turned your face back to him, "And you, little bird, with blood on your wings...You will have to choose a side to carry out your message."
You choked up a whimper that came from sorrow. Regret. Failure.
"And you," He looked at Connor, "Will you betray your own people, or stand against your creators?"
You couldn't turn around. Couldn't face him in your shame.
"I wouldn't want to be in either of your shoes..." Elijah closed his eyes, a frown sinking the corners of his mouth, "What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?"
"There can be no 'evil,' without a 'good,' Mr. Kamski."
Connor's declaration broke you. The dam cracked and leaked, chunks of it flying in a watery demolition of your last reserves of pliancy.
Elijah took you in his arms. Hugged you. Quietly hummed a song that vibrated in his chest – one you knew well, one he knew would steady your wings in the strongest of gales. You hugged him back. It felt wrong, and right, all the same. Minutes went by, and his voice took a new form.
"'Distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, and each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow...'" He was crying, too, "'From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore, for the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore...'"
He pushed you away. Placed you in a new pair of hands; those of an android – the being he'd created from the long nights you'd spent with him in the old, shitty house the two of you had lived in.
"'...Nameless here, forevermore.'"