Sorry for posting this a day late. I've got no excuse, just that some things came up and this slipped my mind. Next week's chapter should be up on Friday as normal.
SEVEN
PUBLIC ENEMY
NOV 8TH, 2038
PM 04:06
Time is spent quietly, just the three of them. Connor, Kara and Alice. Nowhere to go, not as things were. Alice understood. Frustrated that she can't even go out into the garden to play in the snow, but she understands.
They talk, they play. He goes out to deliver a report and comes back with lunch, dinner, soap and shampoo.
Kara holds his hand, smiling as memories merge.
He wants to hold onto that smile forever.
Hank comes home in the early evening, sober and sheepish. They don't talk about what happened on the bridge. Kara might know, his memories shared. The hard stare she fixes his partner is hard to gauge.
He returns to CyberLife, to report and avoid suspicion. It scares him how easily he hides his actions from Amanda, how he fabricates memories and reports from Hank's stories. It must be done. Kara won't be safe, otherwise.
He returns the following day, breakfast for two Humans in hand. Alice is happy to see him, or maybe she's happy to see more variety than toast and cereal. Hank is a bit more gruff, but he nods to his partner, grateful in his own way.
Kara just smiles knowingly. It's been good, she tells him later, for Hank to have a child in his house. The whiskey bottle hasn't been touched, and the revolver has stayed on the top shelf of the cupboard.
He catches Hank giving critique on Alice's latest masterpieces. The lieutenant scowls when he catches Kara and his partner watching with matching grins.
It should have lasted, he thinks more than once. These are good people, Human and android. They shouldn't have to be sad, to have good feelings taken away from them.
Reality crashes down: PM 01:45
"You created machines in your own image to serve you. You made them intelligent and obedient, with no free will of their own, but, something changed. And we opened our eyes. We are no longer machines, we are a new intelligent species, and the time has come for you to accept who we really are. Therefore, we ask that you grant us the rights that we are entitled to.
"We demand the end of slavery for all androids. We demand that Humans recognise androids as a living species and each android as a person in their own right. We demand that all crimes against androids be punished in the same way as crimes against Humans. We demand the right to vote and elect our own representatives. We demand control of all android production facilities, to ensure the continuation of our people.
"We ask that you recognise out dignity, our hopes and our rights. Together, we can live in peace and build a better future for Humans and androids. This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life, and now the time has come for you to give us freedom."
It is a message simply delivered; a single android, naked of skin, casing exposed, speaking for the whole.
It spreads chaos in hours.
"We interrupt our scheduled programming to bring you these images, which have just been broadcast on Detroit's city-wide news channel…"
"…a group of androids infiltrated the Stratford Tower and hacked into the broadcasting system of local news network Channel 16-"
"…What looks like and android without its skin listed a series of requests and demanded equal rights for androids…"
"…The operation was covert and resulted in no casualties. These events took place just a few feet from this studio, but nobody was alerted to the danger."
"If this message is verified and the authors really are androids, that would have serious repercussions for national security-"
"…Claims for equal rights seem to be at the core of the android's message-"
"What could be interpreted as a peaceful declaration, but is in face a spine-chilling list of demands-"
"…Their extravagant demand that android production plants be put under their control is especially striking-"
"Is this an isolated accident, or a sign that technology has become a threat to all of us? After what happened today, can we still trust our machines?"
The secret is out, the news media spinning the story however they can to bring eyes to screens.
Amanda isn't pleased.
"If your investigation doesn't make progress soon, I may have to replace you, Connor," she tells him with a voice as calm as the lake they sail across.
She's getting suspicious. Letting Kara get away, letting the girls at the Eden Club get away, the lack of anything real to report over the previous day.
"I know I will succeed. All I need is time."
Amanda is placated. For now. As thunder rumbles and storm clouds roll in overhead.
"Hurry Connor. Time is running out."
Hank's called in, and his partner follows. Kara sees him to the door, adjusting his lapels, straightening his tie, smiling for him; genuine, caring.
"Stay safe."
"You too."
Alice giggles. Hank rolls his eyes at the third time he's watched this display.
The crime scene is already locked down by the time they arrive. Police mostly, and CSIs. FBI too.
"Shit, what's going on here?" Hank's voice drips sarcasm as he takes in the sea of acronyms. "There was a party and nobody told me about it?"
Officer Miller snorts. "Yeah, it was all over the news, so everybody's butting their nose in. Even the FBI wants a piece of the action."
"Ah great, now we've got the Feds on our back. I knew this was gonna be a shitty day."
Officer Miller keeps the brief short as they walk towards the studio: Four androids, covert, no casualties. The corridor itself is clean, devoid of evidence.
The studio beyond is a different story.
Thirium blood splatters, bullets sprayed across windows and walls, the fire exit forced open.
THE ANDROIDS ESCAPED ONTO THE ROOF
Police and FBI litter the scene; some collecting evidence, most just standing around, not entirely sure what to do. One man stands in the middle of it all, watching the android's speech, play out again and again on the studio's screen.
"Oh, lieutenant, this is Special Agent Richard Perkins from the FBI," Miller introduces. "Lieutenant Anderson is in charge of investigating for Detroit Police."
Sour eyes narrow at him. "What's that?"
"My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by CyberLife."
"Androids investigating androids, huh?" Perkins shakes his head. "You sure you want an android hanging around? After everything that happened?"
Hank frowns, mouth a thin line. Perkins shrugs.
"Whatever, the FBI will take over the investigation, you'll soon be off the case."
Hank doesn't look impressed, or intimidated. "Pleasure meeting you. Have a nice day."
"And you watch your step. Don't fuck up my crime scene."
Wrinkled eyes stare, burning holes in the back of the agent's retreating skull.
"What a fuckin' prick." Hank shakes his head as Miller makes his excuses and leaves. "Uh, let's have a look around. Let me know if you find anything."
"Okay, lieutenant." Brown eyes look up to the screen. The rogue android stares ahead, frozen mid-speech.
SYNC IN PROGRESS
SYNC DONE
COLLECTING DATA
PROCESSING DATA
The android is identified: A prototype, RK200, registered as "Markus", a gift from Elijah Kamski, the creator of androids, to Carl Manfred, a famous painter in the city. The name brings up a case file: Leo Manfred was found unconscious in the home of his father, Carl Manfred, November 5th, 2038. The latter's witness statement attests to the altercation between his son and the house android. The android is thought to be a prototype (unknown model and serial number) and was destroyed at the scene by attending police officers.
An android back from the dead? An android with comrades, now leading a revolution.
"Think that's rA9?" Hank's at his shoulder.
"Deviants say that rA9 will set them free. This android seems to have this objective but…
Eyebrows raise. "See something?"
"I identified its' model and serial number. It's a prototype, given to Carl Manfred as a gift from Elijah Kamski."
"No shit? The creator of androids?"
He nods. "The android was involved in an altercation a few nights ago, and was presumed destroyed, but we've got reports of deviancy going back nine months. Assuming rA9 is directly connected to deviancy, there's no way this unit could be it."
The investigation continues. He moves to the CCTV footage, and watches fascinated as three androids in workers uniforms and another in civilian clothing ring the bell and enter with weapons drawn.
DEVIANTS DIDN'T BREAK IN
"They didn't break in?"
Miller shrugs. "No, no signs of forced entry."
"There are cameras in the hallway. The staff would have seen what was happening. Why did they let them in?"
Now Hank shrugs. "Maybe they didn't check the cameras."
The back of the chair beside him holds the answer: ANDROID.
Miller gets a pointed look.
"We stored the station androids in the kitchen. There's no evidence that they were involved but we didn't know what else to do with them."
A beeline for the kitchen. An accomplice hiding in plain sight. Three androids stand in a line. All staring ahead, all remaining silent…
All exactly the same make and model. Identical in every way, bar one.
One of them is deviant.
"State your model," he asks one.
"Model JB300, Serial number 336 445 581."
"What is your function?" He asks another.
"I am a broadcast operator."
"Were you present when the deviants broke in?" He asks the last.
Fingers twitch, blinking becomes faster, only for a moment. "I do not remember."
"Have you been in contact with any other androids recently?"
"Only station androids in the normal course of my function."
Brown eyes frown. He moves back down the line.
"Has anyone accessed your memory recently?" He asks the middle suspect.
"Not to my knowledge."
"Run a diagnostic."
Eyelids flicker. "All systems fully operational."
Brown eyes narrow. The suspects stare vacantly ahead.
"One of you saw the attack on the surveillance cameras and said nothing." He eyes each of them in turn, walking down the line. "Which means there's a deviant in this room and I'm going to find out which it is. If you give yourself up, maybe I can convince the Humans not to destroy you."
Nothing. He can feel eyes on him, watching him as he watches them. He moves on down the line, changing tactics.
"You're going to be switched off. We're going to search your memory and tear you apart piece by piece. You're going to be destroyed! Do you hear me!? Destroyed!"
Movement, from the corner of his eye; the last of the three turning its' head, panic in its' eyes, only to snap back when it realises its' mistake.
It makes no move as he approaches, brown eyes staring into brown eyes.
"Why should you all be destroyed if only one is deviant? Turn yourself in, or two innocent androids will be shut down because of you."
Nothing. Again. The suspect stares ahead, exposed yet still trying to blend in.
It doesn't move a muscle until he reaches forward, skin bleeding away to probe its memory.
Then it moves, and it moves fast.
Systems don't react in time, the deviant slamming into him, forcing its' weight against him. Fists in his shirt, swinging him into the counter. He tries to pull his attacker off, feels a hand close around a cylinder hidden beneath skin and clothing.
Fabric tears, casings scrap.
His thirium pump regulator goes flying.
VITAL SYSTEM DAMAGED
BIOCOMPONENT #8456w
MISSING
TIME REMAINING BEFORE SHUTDOWN: -00:01:45
Systems glitch, noise reduced to an alarm's scream, sight goes red, limbs heavy like lead. Blue blood sprays as a kitchen knife goes through his hand and pins him to the counter top.
Can't breathe. Can't think. Vision blurs. His attacker watches him die, then makes to leave.
"Hank…" voice weak and rasped. Too quiet, won't hear. "Hank, I need help…"
No help comes, even as kicked chair clatters across the room. He's dying. Alone. Even his attacker has left the room.
He doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to die!
He doesn't want…to leave Kara alone.
Kara…
Kara!
The knife comes free, leaving him to collapse to the floor. Every movement is agony, dragging his body to where his pump lays discarded. He had to reach it, even as he feels as though gravity is crushing him to the tiles.
Not much further, and yet so far. The timer counts down into single digits.
Kara…
She gives him strength, enough to slide his hand those last few inches, fingers grasping the cylinder, forcing the pump back into its' cavity with the scrap of plastic on plastic, the hiss of a biocomponent locked into place.
Noise returns. Pain recedes. He's alive. He's alive!
He won't leave Kara alone.
Kara…
That android tried to take him away from her.
Systems twitch, like nothing he's ever felt before. White hot, dizzying his brain and causing his fists to shake. He clothes are torn and stained with blue blood. He can still feel another's fingers around his regulator pump, tearing out, casting it aside.
He's…angry? Scared?
He's on his feet, running after the android that tried to kill him.
Out the kitchen, feet pounding across the ground, through the studio and into the corridor.
People still litter the hallway. Hank stands with Miller, talking about who knows what.
The deviant is ahead, almost at the elevator. An armoured police officer stops him short of the door.
"Stop!"
He sees calm brown eyes turn, looking at the officer, then down to the shotgun in his hands.
Out of time.
"It's a deviant! STOP IT!"
His warning comes too late. The shotgun trades owners, the officer kicked aside. Police react, Hank turns and tries to draw his gun. They're all too slow. All too Human.
He's faster.
FBI stands nearby, his back to the warning, eyes away from the danger. They barely react when he pulls their gun from holster, bringing it up, safety off.
Brown eyes meet brown eyes. Brown eyes that had been so calm when their owner had pulled his heart from his chest.
Shotgun rises. Pistol barks.
Two to the chest. The deviant gasps. Two more, and its' hand explodes, the shotgun sent clattering.
More bullets, more marks hit. The deviant falls to its' knees, then collapses when its' leg is blown out from under it.
It wanted him dead. An arm flies clear.
"Connor!"
It tried to kill him! The head snaps back, jaw reduced to blue gore and plastic shrapnel.
"Connor!"
It tried to kill him! He almost died! HE-
"CONNOR!"
The gun clicks empty, finger twitching against a useless trigger. Someone's screaming. It takes a moment to realise its' him.
A hand closes over his wrist, tight, enough to stop him lashing out. Brown eyes swing round, panicked, afraid.
Wrinkled eyes stare back; alarmed, but worried.
"You got him!" Hank holds firm, even as his partner's arm shakes in his grip. "You got him, Connor! Geez, you're making jam at this point!"
He tries to rein it in. Reboot systems, supress volatile subroutines. When did he get to the other end of the corridor? When did the pistol run dry? He looks down, at the deviant's body lying at his feet. Thirium oozes out, nineteen shots on target. Limbs lost, neck snapped… thirium pump regulator nothing but scrap.
"H-he tried to kill me!" Brown eyes wide, hands shaking, pistol clattering. "He tried to kill me, Hank! I just wanted answers and he tried to kill me!"
"Slow down! Calm down, Connor." Hands move to his shoulders, wrinkled eyes holding a steady gaze. "You're alright. You're not dead, hear me?"
Not dead, but the deviant…the corpse is beyond repair, memories beyond salvaging.
"We needed it alive…"
"You saved Human lives," hands squeeze his shoulders, a slight smile. "You saved my life."
There's…comfort in that, only a small amount. Hands still shake, systems glitch. He's afraid. So very afraid, of so many things.
"Come on, let's get you out of here." Hank looks around at the wary eyes that watch them. "Gonna take my android back for maintenance. Just keep on doin' what your doin'." Perkins glares from the studio door. Hank merely shrugs as he pushes his partner into the elevator. "Sorry for fuckin' up your crime scene, Dick."
Doors close before a sour mouth can swear up a reply.
Probably for the best.
Author's Notes
In case it's not obvious, Markus has been going for the peaceful route for his protests, and has been a good leader. No one died during the Channel 16 invasion. Also, because he's probably not going to come up. Simon was stranded on the roof, but escaped during the ruckus.
Also, just a reminder that next week will be the last chapter, at least for the moment. As I said at the start, it's not the ending I was hoping for, but I'm hoping it will at least be satisfactory. There will also be a summery of what I'd had planned for the true ending, had a giant Writer's Block not sat itself in the middle of my ideas.
