Another story?!? That probably you're question if this isn't the first book of mine you've read. Well yes, I know I'm crazy, but I have too many ideas. I'm in over my head, hence the name ;) Anyways, please enjoy.
November 5th
9:58 AM
{Y/n P.O.V.}
"Alarm deactivated. Welcome home, (Y/n)." The female robotic voice says. I smile softly, whispering a 'thank you' out of habit. Entering the foyer, I first notice the singing android birds. I don't understand why people get pets if they don't want to take care of them, which is all the android counterparts are for. But they're beautiful nonetheless. I hear the unmistakable voice of my father's android, Markus. "Yes, there's the opening of your retrospective at the Museum of Modern Art. The gallery director left four messages asking to confirm your attendance." Markus is a special model made just for my father by Kamski himself. I can tell that that Kamski gave him more...freedom shall I say...then others. Between that and my fathers influence, Markus was practically just another human whether he saw it or not. Dad loves him, I love him, my brother, not so much.
"I haven't decided yet. We'll see about that later." Markus helps Dad onto the machine to get him and his wheelchair down the stairs. They haven't noticed me yet. Although, I notice Markus' torn clothes. "What else?" "Just your usual fan mail. I've already answered." I always wonder if Markus is lying to him to spare his feelings. My father didn't get much mail nowadays as far as I knew. "Any news from Leo?" I scowl at the mention of my brother. He and I never had a good relationship. He hated my guts no matter what I did to try and gain his approval. I suppose I'll always just be his annoying, brat, little sister. But I don't take his shit anymore. I'm an adult, working my way up in a career of law enforcement and he's a lowlife addict. "No, Carl. I can call him if you like?" Markus suggests. "No. No, don't bother." They reach the bottom of the stairs, and they notice me. I smile.
"Hi Dad, Markus. I thought I'd come visit before work. I brought you some breakfast pastries from that cafe you like. I know your doctor would disapprove, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?" I joke, holding up the bag. "Ah (Y/n). You spoil me." I walk over, kissing his cheek. "Only the best for the best." My father and I always had a much closer relationship. While Leo thought his advice and guidance were nothing but a pile of shit, I hung onto his every word. My father was my hero as a kid. Still is in some ways. Sometimes I could understand Leo's outlook considering our father wasn't apart of our lives for a long time. And me being younger, I just wanted my father around while Leo grew bitter. Then again, Leo is a douche. I look over Markus as he wheels Dad to the table. "What happened to your clothes?" I question interrogativly. "Just some protestors. It's no problem, I'm fine." He insists. I frown. "They're lucky I wasn't there to rough them up a bit." I say. Markus tries to hide it, as he always did when he showed emotion, but I saw the small, unmistakable smile on his face. Markus left for the kitchen, taking the pastries with him to plate them.
"How've you been?" I ask Dad. "About as well as an old man could be. It helps to see my daughter though." He pats my hand. "How's work? And Hank?" He asks. I chuckle a little. Ah yes... Lieutenant Hank Anderson. My partner despite me just being a detective. When I worked with him for the first time, it seemed like a dream come true. A little old detective working with a highly decorated Lieutenant? Crazy. Then as I learned how irritable and frustrating the man is, I realized it was just because no one else wanted to work with him. At first, Hank was harsh and cold, surprise surprise, and but eventually he warmed up to me after I got fed up with his shit and snapped at him. He even smiles every once in awhile. "Still a drunk madman, but who would be if he wasn't?" I joke. Markus comes back, placing the food in front of my father.
"Thank you, Markus. Television." Dad calls, making the TV turn on. "Why don't you two find something to do while I finish my breakfast?" He suggests. I merely nod. "Sure. Okay, Carl." Markus says. We move a small way away. "What would you like to do, (Y/n)?" He asks. "Ohhh no, Markus. I get to do what I want all the time. This is about what you want to do." I elbow him slightly. He scans over the room as if weighing his option. I suppose he probably is. "I think the piano sounds nice." He decides. "Then I'd love to hear you play." I encourage. He sits down and plays a sweet melody. Dad finishes eating, and wheels over. "Something has changed in the way you play. Sometimes I think you have more humanity than most humans." He notes. Markus stops, making me clap a little for him. "He's right, you know. Being human isn't a physical thing. Working in the area I do...well let's just say I prefer your company over that of many many flesh humans." I state. Markus doesn't respond, but holds a small smile of pride.
"One day, I won't be here to take care of you anymore. You'll have to protect yourself, and make your choices. Decide who you are, and wanna become. This world doesn't like those who are different, Markus. Don't let anyone tell you who you should be. Let's go to the studio." My father tells him. I frown slightly at his words. I know his days are coming to an end, but it's still hard to hear him talk like that. Markus grips the handles of the wheelchair, and I follow them. "Let's see where we left off. Remove the sheet!" Markus does so, and after Dad's chair is hook up to the machine, he starts painting. "I'm sure it'll be great, Dad." I encourage softly. I notice Markus start to clean the studio, so I decide to help out. "You don't have to help, (Y/n). I-"
"Work plenty as it is. I insist, Markus." He doesn't argue anymore. "Markus? Do you ever just realize that you want something?" I question, my voice becoming habitually authoritative. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." He isn't a good liar. He fidgets and looks away, tasking his hands with cleaning to avoid confrontation. "I think you do, Markus. I think it's important for you to embrace it. I think the input of the androids is something the flesh humans can learn from." I don't give him a chance to respond as I make my way over to my father who's lowering himself. Markus joins us quietly. He looks like he's still pondering over my words. "So, what's your verdict?" My father questions.
"Yes, there is something about it. Something I can't...quite define. I guess I like it." Markus answers. Dad and I share a small, knowing smile. "Me too, Dad. It's beautiful." I praise. "The truth is I have nothing left to say anymore. Each day that goes by brings me closer to the end. I'm just an old man clinging to his brushes." I frown. "Dad..." "Carl..." Dad ignores us. "But enough about me... Let's see if you have any talent! Give it a try. Try painting something." He encourages Markus. "Paint? But, what I...Painting what?" I laugh a little. "Anything you want. Give it a try!" I encourage excitedly. He sets up a canvas, and creates a perfect copy of the desk next to him. I shake my head with a laugh. "That is a perfect copy...of reality. But painting is not about replicating the world, it's about interpreting it, improving on it, showing something you see." My father advises.
"Carl, I don't...think I can do that. It's not in my program... I..." I cut him off. "Can do anything you set that beautiful mind to." "Go on, go, try, grab that canvas." Dad adds. "Do something for me, close your eyes. Close your eyes. Trust me. Try to imagine something that doesn't exist. Something you've never seen. Now, concentrate...on how it makes you feel...and let your hand drift across the canvas." He instructs. With fascination, I watch Markus paint something beautiful. It's clear what it is. An android and human hand reach out for each other. It represents what he hopes for the future. A future of peace. Whether Markus realizes it or not, he wants equality.
"Good god, Markus. It's incredible." I say in awe, inspecting the work closely. "Oh my God." Dad whispers. The studio doors open. It's Leo. He spots me and we scowl at each other before he returns his attention to our father. "Hey, Dad." He greets in fake cheerfulness. "Leo. I didn't hear you come in." Dad says. "Ah, well, I was in the neighborhood. I thought I'd stop by. It's been a while, right?" He asks. "Awhile? Don't give me that BS. Why I-" Dad cuts off my rising voice in a calm voice. "You all right? You don't look so good." I huff. "Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Hey listen, uh, I need some cash, Dad." I groan. "Ohhh, you've gotta be kidding me. Of fu-"
"Language." My father says sharply to me before turning back to Leo. "Again? What happened to the money I just gave you?" I facepalm. Playing dumb wasn't gonna do a thing. "Uh well, it just goes, you know?" Such a terrible liar. "Yeah... Yeah, you're on it again, aren't you?" Dad questions. "No, no, no, I swear it's not that." I step up. "Don't lie to us, Leo. We're only trying to help you." I insist. "What difference does it make? I just need some cash, that's all!" He snaps. "Sorry...the answer's no." Dad insists. "What? Why?" "You know why." "Yeah, yeah... I think I do know why. You'd rather take care of your plastic toy here than your own son, eh?" Leo starts to get in Markus' face, jabbing a finger at him.
"Tell me dad, what's it got that I don't? It's smarter? More obedient? Not like me, right? But you know what? This thing is not your son. IT'S A FUCKING MACHINE!" I shove Leo away from Markus slightly, knowing he won't fight back. "Back off Leo, before I escort you off the premise." I growl. Leo shoves me back harder, making me stumble, but I don't fall. "Oh ho ho, that's it-" "Both of you, that's enough! Enough!" Dad raises his voice, something that doesn't happen often. "You don't care about anything except yourself and your goddamn paintings. You've never loved anyone. You've never loved me, Dad... You never loved me." Leo grumbles, walking away. The room becomes tense and silent. "You need better security, Dad." I state. "You need to get along with your brother."
"Maybe I will when he deserves my respect." I insist. Dad only shakes his head. "I don't want my kids to be fighting before I go. That boy is troubled, but not beyond repair. I know you can help him if you just try." I frown. He's never done anything to expect or deserve my help with anything. But Dad is playing the old man card as I call it, knowing I hate to turn him down. I decide I'm done with the conversation. I pat Markus on the shoulder, and kiss Dads cheek. "I've gotta go home to change before work." I mumble, rushing out of the house.