Your POV
"This is trial one-hundred, nine for the RK800 android."
I tiredly smile at the camera seeing an Android's body behind me. He's physically complete but the programming needs some adjustments. Rubbing my face, I take a deep inhale before sighing.
"No time like the present to test an Android, right?"
-----
Leaning back in my chair, I stare at the screen in front of me. A pen is twirling around my fingers as I slowly swivel in my chair. The design is actually pretty good. Not too many suggestions to make.
"Personally, I would adjust the blood level sufficiency to seventy-five and upgrade the intelligence-- I mean you are just making a delivery Android so there shouldn't be a need for them to have such a low blood sufficiency," I speak. Swiping on the screen, the touch command is activated and I do another 360-degree check. "Also, you're going to have to make the nose narrower, eyes a bit smaller-- looks too aware and humans don't like that." When did I start to sound like a demi-god? I guess you could say that android designers are playing god. . .
"Really? Others said it was alright to have the sufficiency at fifty."
"I'm positive. She needs the brain to memorize the map and make the best routes for delivery," I respond. "Look, I'm just here to offer advice. You don't have to listen to me."
"No-- I appreciate it a lot. Thanks. I wouldn't know what to do if you weren't around." the lady responds before hanging up.
She would probably be building a very concerning android that CyberLife would not approve of. Ever since androids have been on the public market, the company is strict about what designs are produced. The only way to stay in is to do an exceptionally good job. If you can't make a pretty android, you are fired-- you aren't even getting the job.
Hanging up, I toss the phone off to the side. After logging out of that system, I flop back in my seat, eyes glancing outside. The sky is turning black with dots of colour from city lights. From here, it is silent-- peaceful. My eyes flutter shut as this quiet place lulls me to sleep. Just a few seconds of closed eyes would be fine.
Before my brain can shut off, there is a knock on the door.
"Miss. (L/n)?"
My eyes snap open from the voice-- it's familiar to me.
Letting out a sigh, I look to the ceiling. It's probably just a dream-- sweet illusions. I guess nightmares are dreams as well so I can't call them all 'sweet'.
The knocking on the door makes me sit up straight. Spinning the chair, I look at the door.
"Miss. (L/n), please open up."
I furrow my brows, walking to the door. It confirms that it isn't a mind trick, but reality-- a reality I didn't think would exist.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door, instantly arching an eyebrow of surprise.
"Hello. My name is Connor," the Android speaks.
". . . Yes. . . Do you need help with something?" I ask him, my jaw slightly slack and lips parted-- baffled.
I know that he only looks the same. It is impossible to tell if he is exactly the same unless I stick around to find out. That isn't something that I should be doing. . .
There is a specific sound of a wrench being thrown into clockwork-- rattling with gears twitching back and forth. Creaking from the attempt to unjam the mechanics. It's irritating and noisy-- it's pollution that irritates my brain. It's consistent yet different with every passing second. I can't stand it-- not many people can.
Someone threw a wrench into my clockwork.
"I have been told that you can help me to find Lieutenant Hank Anderson," he speaks. They didn't even think of altering the voice-- it's the exact same. I guess they didn't want to spend the three days that I did to find a pleasant voice.
"What for?" I question, leaning against the door frame. There is a light wind coming into the house. I feel like I'm supposed to let the Android in, but my brain tells me that the idea is not a good one. I don't need him to be observing too much if all he needs is to find Hank.
"I am the Android sent from CyberLife to assist in the investigation against deviants," he speaks with the matter-of-fact tone. "He has been assigned a case."
Letting out a hum, I slip on my boots and grab a scarf. With keys and phone in my pocket, I close the door, locking it.
"I would suggest you put a jacket on. It's rather cold outside," he suggests.
"A prototype, right?" I look to him, waiting for an answer.
The LED on his head blinks yellow as he arches an eyebrow. "Yes-- how did you know?"
"Haven't seen an Android working for the police yet. Interesting as to why they might send you to Detroit."
"Well there has been an increase in deviancy," he tells me. "So I am here to investigate and hopefully learn more about them."
Deviancy-- a mutation in an Android's programming to make them "mimic" human emotions. Personally, I'd like to beg a differ. As much as I'd like to file a proper lab report to the company, I haven't been able to.
Ever heard of The Insider? It is an old film made back in 1999 where a man who is a scientist discovers the health hazard about cigarettes and when he tries to tell the company, they want him to keep quiet. He blows the whistle, drawing a whole bunch of threats and danger to himself.
I like to learn from people's mistake and plan ahead. To me, life is a game of chess that you have to stay ahead to protect the king. My king happens to be the future of the world-- not something that people usually chooses to be their concern. We, humans, are selfish. Every person for themselves because you can't trust anyone.
"Well, Mr. Anderson will be at a bar," I comment while unlocking my car. I get in, starting the engine. "Which one? I'm not too sure."
"Mr. Anderson?" He repeats it as if it's strange. "I do believe he is a Lieutenant."
"He is," I confirm. "I just call him that because it's easier."
"May I ask you a personal question?"
"Any time you'd like," I reply, softly smiling.
"Do you have a history with Lieutenant Anderson?"
I glance to him before nodding. "I met him when I was a child."
The ride down is quiet compared to the noise in my head.
Staring ahead, I try to make the gears turn again. It becomes a tiring task since one problem is different from another.
"You seem preoccupied," the Android speaks, causing me to briefly glance at him. I mindlessly drive towards the closet bar.
"Not at all." Looking back to the road, the lights and movement help me relax a bit more. It is busy and keeps me distracted from my mind. I need to take a short break before thinking about my next few moves again.
It actually pisses me off. I never got the chance to work in the engineering department. They dropped me right into the research area. I've gained enough trust to be put on the repairs. It doesn't prevent suspicion though.
Prodigy they say.
Their lives aren't easy because people assume that you believe that you are better than them. They think that you look down on everyone so they hate you-- try to mentally beat you down and mess with your head. I used to always get asked why wasn't I designing androids if I was so good. I'm told that I have a good resume but no display to prove those words.
I feel like this is a message that CyberLife is trying to send to me. Are they trying to drag my spirits through the mud? Stomp on it a bit more? As if not being able to design and program android isn't bad enough.
Too bad for them-- Their misery is my normal life.
On another note, it takes a while to drive around to six bars to look for the man. Hopefully, we find him at the fifth bar instead.
Jimmy's Bar. Like most others, they do not allow Androids in. Nobody wants to admit it but they are uncomfortable and scared of the robotic beings. It feels like I'm living in the time of slavery with black segregation.
"Stay close behind me," I state, pushing the door open. The bartender waves to me and I nod.
Scanning the scene, I walk towards an older man wearing a worn-out jacket. Grey hair to his cheeks and scruffy facial hair.
Worn down.
Life wears down selected people as if we've done something wrong. Some are worse than others-- yet when it happens to you, it feels like nobody has it as bad as you.
"Lieutenant Anderson. My name is Connor. I'm the Android sent by CyberLife. I looked for you at the station but nobody knew where you were," the young man speaks.
"I thought that we'd try the bars," I inform Hank as he arches an eyebrow at me in disapproval. "Lucky to find you at the fifth bar. . . Watching a sports game?"
"What do you want?" Hank grumbles.
"You were assigned a case early this evening-- a homicide involving a CyberLife android," Connor explains. "In accordance with procedure, the company has allocated a specialized model to assist investigators."
"Well, I don't need any assistance." For one, Hank doesn't like androids. Two? He can barely operate a smartphone. . . I find it slightly amusing that he is being paired with an Android. I bite my cheek, trying to prevent laughter from escaping me. "Especially not from a plastic asshole like you, so be a good little robot and get the fuck out of here."
"Hank," I firmly speak. "You're going to probably need his assistance. No offence but you aren't as athletic as you used to be."
This earns the middle finger from the man. I let out a small sigh while pinching the bridge of my nose.
"I understand that some people are not comfortable in the presence of androids but I am--"
"I am perfectly comfortable. Now back off before I crush you like an empty beer can." He is clearly irritated. He'll never look at androids the same.
I don't feel like reminding him that androids are built to be stronger and faster than humans. It's a perk when your body is made out of stronger material with plastic and metal specifically engineered to be two times stronger than human flesh and bones. They also can't feel pain like we do so when it comes to fighting. . . We sort of lose against androids. That would be like a person going against a grown grizzly bear.
"I think you should stop drinking and come with me. It'll make life easier for both of us." Well, Connor is bound to be persistent.
There is nothing from the stubborn old man that I know. Sometimes it feels like 'hate' isn't a strong enough word to describe his perspective on them.
"You know what, I'll buy you one for the road," Connor offers.
I arch an eyebrow, baffled by the response from Connor.
I don't know what is more difficult to comprehend-- the fact that the bartender is letting him buy a drink despite the sign outside his door, or Hank letting the Android buy his drink. . . I suppose that if you like to drown in alcohol, it could come from anywhere and you'd still drink it.
Well. . . That's what my parents taught me.
"See that Jim? The wonders of technology. Make that a double," Hank speaks as Jim pours the drink. He throws back the liquid and takes a deep breath. "Did you say homicide?"
"Piqued your interest there Hank?" I question, smirking. He rolls his eyes making me pat the countertop. I straighten my stance. "Well I'm guessing that you're going to work, so I'll take my leave."
"Whatever kid," he mutters, patting my head.
"And I expect no collateral damage to either one of you."
With that, I turn on my heels, leaving the bar scene. It used to take a lot of energy to be standing in a place that sells alcohol with drinkers hanging all around.
Outside, I look around before going to my car. Sitting, there, I let out a sigh with the clicking in my head. The radio is turned on in hopes of drowning the noise out but it just sounds more prominent. My hands tighten around the steering wheel before I begin to drive.
I let this happen and now it's coming back to haunt my ass.