Connor's POV
Seeing Hank sitting on the bench, I get out and walk towards him.
He glanced up. "Nice view huh? I used to come here a lot before."
Before what?
He takes a drink from his beer.
"Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?"
"Do all Androids ask so many personal questions or is it just you?" He sounds annoyed.
"I saw a photo of a child on your kitchen table." He seems uncomfortable. "It was your son, right?"
"Yeah. His name was Cole." There is a tone in his voice-- one I can't understand. He is quiet after.
"Before what?" I ask. "You said, ' I used to come here a lot before.' before what?"
"Before. . . Before nothing."
Looking around, I feel like nothing is being done. "We are not making any progress in this investigation. The deviants have nothing in common." I can't find anything to connect them. . . Nothing except for. . . "rA9. It's almost like some kind of myth. Something they invented that wasn't a part of their original program."
"Androids believing in God. . . Fuck, what's this world coming to?"
He seems. . . Preoccupied. . . By something.
"This two girls, they just wanted to be together. They really seemed. . . To be in love."
Androids. . . Can't love. . . Right? We are not made to love.
"You seem troubled Lieutenant. I didn't think machines could have such an effect on you," I comment.
There is a pause as he stands. "What about you Connor?"
What about me?
Hank approaches. "You look human, you sound human, but what are you really?"
He seems curious-- is he testing me?
"I'm whatever you want me to be," is the answer I give. "Your partner, your buddy to drink with, or just a machine, designed to accomplish a task."
He comes closer. "You could have shot those two girls but you didn't. Why didn't you shoot Connor?" I feel him shove me back like I did something wrong.
Why didn't I shoot them? They are deviants. I am an Android made to investigate deviants. That is my purpose.
"Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?" He seems hostile.
"No. I just decided not to shoot." Is that the right answer? "That's all. . ."
The man suddenly pulls out his pistol, pointing it at my head. "But are you afraid to die Connor?"
Am I? I am a machine-- I can be replaced. I can feel my pump pumping quickly. Am I only a machine? Then why is my pump malfunctions especially around. . . Around (y/n). . . And I just want to hug her all of the time. . .
"I would certainly find it regrettable to be. . . Interrupted before. . . I can finish this investigation."
The gun is swaying. "What will happen if I pull this trigger? Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?"
"I doubt there's a heaven for androids."
"Having existential doubts, Connor?" This makes me tense a bit on the inside. "Sure you're not going deviant too? Developing emotions for someone perhaps?"
It's impossible. I am programmed to hunt them. "I self-test regularly. I know what I am, and what I am not."
He lowers the weapon, walking away.
"Where are you going?" I tilt my head, concerned?
"To get drunker! I need to think."
I need answers. . .
Your POV
While leaning back in my seat, I close my eyes, I quietly sing along to the music playing.
"You have a nice voice."
I yelp, falling out of my seat. "Connor!" I shout. Despite the tone, I still smile.
"I didn't mean to scare you (Y/n)." He chuckles, offering me a hand that I take.
"I didn't think you'd be finished the report so quickly," I mutter while checking the computer. The report seems to be all good. Well. . . Except for. . . "Why did you put, 'rapid pump rate rising,' on here?" I question the Android.
"You said anything that doesn't look normal in my system," is the short answer.
"Like it quickens or something?" I continue to ask, trying to figure out the problem. I must have done too well of a job if he is getting adrenaline rush. . .
"It. . . It depends," he answers. "It seems to only occur when I'm. . . Around you. . . "
-----
After the huge repair job, I am allowed to wash my hands from the thirium. It's one in the morning but fatigue has yet to reach me. Instead, I find myself waiting for Connor to come back.
He left his keys. The last thing that I need is a broken window like Hank-- or that's what I keep repeating in my head.
I shouldn't fall in love with an Android-- it's dangerous for both of us. I'm not sure how I'd feel to see him destroyed. . . Or how he would feel to be destroyed.
The gears are stuck again. Leaning back on my chair, I pinch the bridge of my nose, thinking.
But deviancy is good. . . It's good. . . Deviancy is an Android's capability to feel human emotions. It just means that he is feeling human emotions, that's all. If he isn't caught, then he won't get deactivated--
That's a lot easier said than done.
If Connor keeps sparing Androids' lives like at the Eden club, he'll be caught.
I was too innovative. . . Perhaps. . . Perhaps Amanda was right and I was wrong. . .
No. . . I won't let a dead woman tell me what I can or can't do. . . I've been stuck inside the walls of a concrete box and giving him the feeling of empathy was a gift that she took away. Talk about a Grinch who stole Christmas, but worse: she stole freedom and limited my creativity. The worse thing is that she didn't even give them back. . .
What happened to encourage people to be creative? Or does that have an age restriction? Like all of the other good things in the world, it seems to be taken away at certain ages. Freedom to say silly things, be creative, have fun, be free-- not carry so many responsibilities that prevent you from living life. . .
The world is a manipulative place-- humans are manipulative. I hate being one of them at times. . . Not that I'm never lying-- it's quite the opposite. . . I lie too much at times. . . It doesn't help when there are eyes closely watching my computers and phone.
That's the reason why I talk to people in real life and not over some electronic device. It's scary to know how much the government monitors. . . and even large companies.
Noticing the taxi, I stand, walking to the door. Opening it, Connor stands, about to knock.
"Forget something?" I tease, letting the Android in.
"I'm not used to carrying keys," he responds, looking preoccupied.
Letting out a hum, I hear my phone go off.
Shutting the door, I answer it, signalling Connor that I'll be in my room.
"It's (y/n)," I speak, pressing the door closed.
"Alright, we've recorded the speech. It seems to be running smoothly." Rachel continues to list off the tasks that are now done and the things that need to be done. "We have one problem though."
"What is it?" I ask.
"They are moving the date forward," she answers. "What do we do?"
". . . We don't have a choice," I quietly respond, walking to my closet. "We have to follow their settings or else this will never work. . . "
"That's what I thought." There is a pause. "You've always been ahead of time. . . I. . . We all appreciate it."
I smile a bit, letting out a soft chuckle. "I hope it'll be worth it."
"We'll eventually find out."
Bidding a goodnight, she hangs up.
Pulling my shirt off, I change. Throwing it to the side, there is a loud crash. Glancing over, the shirt. . . There is a reason why I was never playing baseball. . .
"Is everythi--"
"Shit! Connor! Get out!" I squeal, arm over my chest and I turn away from him.
"S-sorry!" Did he stammer? I hear the door shut.
My heart pounding against my ribs like a jackhammer. Is it me, or is it really hot in here all of a sudden?
Slipping on my shirt, I finish changing and walk to the bathroom, running the tap with cool water. The water cools down my flushed cheeks before drying off.
Walking out of my room, Connor is standing in the kitchen, LED flickering from red to yellow. His face is flushed with blue making my heart flutter.
"Sorry about that," he speaks, looking away from me. "I heard a crash and thought you were hurt."
"It's fine." I grab a glass of water. Standing, my arms are crossed over my chest, uncomfortably. I forgot about the scars until now. "I didn't mean to startle you."
There is a low hum and his LED flicks to yellow. "Can I see your back?" He questions, tilting his head.
I furrow my brows before nodding. Pulling my shirt up, I turn around for the (skin colour) canvas to be on display. There are quiet taps of his shoes on the floor coming closer. I close my eyes and wait until I can pull my shirt back down. A shiver courses through me as I feel the warm touch of his hand against the skin-- something that shouldn't be felt. They are not made to physically give off heat. He is gentle with the touch, dragging fingertips down each one of my scars.
"Why did you stay with your parents for so long?" He questions, fingers still dancing across my skin.
"Because there wasn't a way to get out," I softly answer. "The police trusted my parents' story over mine so they returned me to the house with them." My grip on my shirt tightens as I am hit with the breath-stealing wave of pain.
It was the reason why I wanted an Android to be in the police force: negotiator, detective-- anything as long as another child doesn't get returned to a wrecked life. They would reinforce the law and serve proper justice.
I feel a pull on my shirt and he lowers the fabric back down. I'm spun around before being pulled into a hug.
I can hear his pump beating quickly just like my heart. . .
Very human of him.
I nuzzle my head into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent. His warm breath is blowing against my neck, making my head spin. I smile a bit, slightly high off the feeling. My eyes flutter shut as I savour the feeling.
"You should sleep," Connor speaks.
"Yeah," I lazily mutter, not wanting to leave yet. For the most part, it's because I like the feeling of him hugging me-- touching me. . . But there is a little voice in my head thinking of the What-if. . . What if this is one of the last times that I get to see him?
Despite my word, he still holds me close.
RK 800, Connor, deviant hunter and one of the most advanced android-- has turned deviant. . .
Again.
A bit of the warmth is lost when he slightly pulls away. I feel my body being picked up. "C-Connor!" I squeak, hand over my eyes. "What are you doing?"
"Carrying you to bed," he casually answers.
"This is embarrassing," I mumble, refusing to uncover my face.
"I find it rather. . . What you might call 'cute,'."
It's moments like this that makes me question why was he programmed to be charming. After being reset, he is still mostly acting the way he was originally programmed. There are just no true emotions behind it.
"Pfft. Cute."