Author's note: The most ridiculous bit of fanfiction you will ever read. No, I don't know what got into me. Absolute crackfic.
The interview had gone well. The anchorwoman obviously didn't know shit about the case; what she had to say that was pertinent to the case could fit on a Post-It. Most of her questions had to do with bravery in the face of adversity. Like Blake. What a psychopathic asshole.
It was dark by the time he got back to the motel. The rain had finally let up, maybe banished forever with the death of the Origami Killer. Unlikely. He'd be moving on soon. Norman downed a drink, relaxed at the dinner table, and put on his sunglasses. The interface clicked into place and with a few expert movements, the motel was transformed into a retro 50's home.
"EDI, you home?" he called, still thinking he must be out of his mind.
He'd been easing off the tripto, but this latest hallucination was vivid.
She'd called herself EDI and introduced herself as a soft voice in his thoughts, asking questions and answering his. She said she could reach out through technology, and finding a human mind connected to his ARI device had fascinated her. She'd asked to integrate herself so they could speak directly, and show herself in a form of her choosing.
The form she chose was an exagerrated pin-up girl - enormous breasts, legs to die for, the whole nine yards - with curly blue hair and white eyes ringed by eerily large eyelashes. She'd been amazed at little things; picking up glasses, moving her mouth to speak, flexing her hand.
And, of course, they'd talked about the case. She was impressed. Who wouldn't be? But it wasn't his bravery or his common sense that she was impressed by.
"You could have given in to the tripto, Norman," she had observed coolly. "You did not. That is commendable."
So she was a computer, or a figment of his sex-starved mind. She was also great company, and she had helped him stay relatively sober.
"Hello, Mr. Jayden," she said by way of greeting.
She was wearing a white cocktail dress with a blue grid pattern on it that seemed to ripple and glow. She filled it out nicely.
"Aw, come on, no need to be so formal. You look nice, by the way. Just terrific."
"As do you." She went right to the bar to make them drinks. "The alcohol is not real, you know."
He nodded. "Aren't you gonna ask me about how the interview went?"
A smile teased at her mouth. Her expression was often curiously vacant, but there was sometimes a hint of amusement in the way her mouth twitched. She was a beautiful illusion.
"How was the interview, Mr. Jayden?"
"It was great. I'll take cameras and bimbo anchorwomen over gettin' my ass handed to me by ten kinds of killers any day." He paused. Any other woman would have laughed or shot him a dirty look; her shoulders seized up as if she was going to double over with laughter, but nothing. "Should I make dinner?"
"I'm curious about pasta," she said, bringing their drinks over and setting them on the table.
Martinis with hot pink raspberries, a touch of frost on the glasses. They were ice cold and strong. The ARI environment made cooking and food and taste unreal. He was still hungry and sober when it was over, but while it lasted...
"Pasta. I'm on it."
He watched the water boil, faster than usual but still slow. The noodles. He turned his head to look over his shoulder; EDI was sitting patiently at the table, looking at him. Was it his imagination, or had her eyes quickly jumped up to meet his guiltily? He smiled and finished cooking, plated pasta for the two of them with not too much sauce, and brought the food over.
It was delicious.
She waited for him to start eating first, and then she slowly twirled the spaghetti around her fork and brought it up to her mouth. Her eyes met his, like she was asking permission.
"Go ahead."
She closed her eyes during that bite, and each successive bite. "Mm."
They talked about the media shitstorm that was the resolution of the case. The serial killer's unglamorous and incredibly bloody death, the colossal failure of the Philadelphia Homicide division. Perry and Blake were fired... not reprimanded, not suspended, fired. Good riddance. It was hard to feel sorry for Blake, who still refused to apologize to the Mars family.
Last he heard, Ethan and his ex-wife were back together and expecting another kid.
If anyone deserved some peace, it was them.
"This still hurts you, Norman," EDI said. "But you solved the case. Why?"
"I had no idea what the job was actually like. The things I've been through, what I've done... it stays with you, EDI. And trying to stay clean on top of that... shit. Life hasn't gotten any easier since solving the case," he said with a sigh, setting his fork down and putting his head in his hands. "Seems like these dinners are all I have to look forward to lately."
The silence enveloped him. He sat like that for a long time, elbows on the table, face in his palms. God, he was pathetic. He thought EDI had gone away to wherever she went in the interim.
"My," she said after a time. He looked up. She'd gotten pasta sauce on her dress; there was a messy handprint trailing down the front and she was sucking red from her finger. "I seem to have ruined my dress. You should help me out of it right away."