"You wanna do what?!" Captain Fowler's face contorted in confused denial, certain he must have misunderstood - because what he'd heard was completely ludicrous.
Hank leaned forward on the captain's desk, grinning. He knew he was right. "Order CyberLife to release the rest of their androids."
"That's insane." Fowler shoved a hand in the air, a firm gesture that Hank was, at the moment, a complete waste of time. "First of all, why in the hell would we tell CyberLife what to do with their inventory?"
"They're not inventory." Hank leaned forward, enunciating slowly and clearly, much to Fowler's irritation. "They're people, by law."
Fowler raised his brows, dropped an elbow on the desk, pointed his rebuttal at Hank. "They're only people if they're activated, Hank. Until then, they're plastic and wires. How do you know CyberLife didn't just dismantle them for parts the moment sellingthem became illegal?"
Hank shook his head, his face lined in a scowl. "By that logic, any android becomes trash the second it's deactivated. You can see as well as I do, that doesn't add up."
"Okay." Fowler nodded stiffly. "Okay. Fine. Let's say you're right. Let's say an inactive android is still a person. Where does it end? Do you want to free all the blue-blood reserves, too? Is a bag of blue kool-aid a potential sentient life form?"
"C'mon, Jeffrey!"
"No!" Fowler raised a hand. "I want to hear your take on this. If you've got an empty plastic shell that looks human, is that a person? If you fill it with blue blood, does that make it a person?"
"It's the AI," Hank insisted, jamming a finger at the desk. "Any machine that's got an AI installed -"
"So we're freeing everyone's cell phones, too?" Fowler waved his phone and dropped it on the desk with a final clunk. "Even if I was with you on this escapade of yours, there's no clear definition yet of what an android is or is not - let alone where the line is between machine and person. Leave this up to the Senate, Hank."
Hank hissed under his breath, shoved himself upright, turned a few paces while he glowered and bit. His mind strained for the right answer. There had to be a right answer.
Finally Hank dropped his hands on the desk again. Fowler met his glare steadily, ready to shut him down for good.
Hank's eyes narrowed. "What if they're active?" he suggested evenly. "They're people, according to law. And if CyberLife has them in a basement -"
"- that'd be false imprisonment," Fowler finished.
Fowler hated the smug grin on Hank's face. He dropped back into his chair, fingers pinched between his eyes. He already had a headache. "Do you have any proof that CyberLife is holding active androids against their will?"
"I can get proof."
Hank leaned forward, hope glimmering brighter the longer the captain remained silent.
"C'mon, Jeffrey. The DPD was partly responsible for the android massacre - the whole goddamn country has a beef with us. You wanna get back into positive public opinion, this is a way to do it."
Fowler's glare was dark and cornered. He huffed a long breath. "You get proof," he conceded, pointing a rigid finger at Hank. "Then you point out the law to CyberLife and you give them a chance to comply willingly."
"No problem." Hank grinned.
Fowler glowered. "And I'm not bringing in Connor on this."
Hank was already halfway out the door, leaving well before Fowler could change his mind. "Wasn't gonna ask."
[Fuck you, Connor, we've got these assholes cornered!]
"Don't engage, North." Connor's voice was steady and commanding - an easy tone to take while he was sitting in a quiet taxi, on his way to meet a new client. His shoulders hunched. His jaw rigid. "The police are on their way to you. Let them handle it."
[HANDLE it?! They're gonna, what, take away naptime privileges?]
"North -"
[They KILLED TRACI.] North's voice quivered in Connor's head - a choked inferno of rage crackled in every word. [I'M handling it.]
"If you hurt them while they're unarmed," Connor raised his voice sharply, "you'll be arrested for aggravated assault or worse."
[You don't give a shit. All you care about is how this looks for Jericho.]
"Hurting them would teach them a lesson - but the hate groups will use it to smear our reputation. We need to stand by the law if we're going to have any hope of changing it. Don't engage."
[We'll get in and out. No one will see us.]
"North!"
[CALL ENDED]
Connor hissed through his teeth, a hateful glare on the traffic ahead.
North was on the other side of the city with a small group of militant androids, about to ambush an apartment full of red-ice dealers while the police were only blocks away.
He slipped a hand into his coat pocket, closed a fist around the acorn.
Traci.
This wouldn't be happening at all if he'd been there to prevent it - if he'd guarded the memorial as he'd intended, if he'd made it to the bridge just a few minutes faster, if he'd gone with North on the investigation - but he couldn't be everywhere at once.
Not unless Hank was right.
In the snow at the side of the road - clear and still in the afternoon sun - stood a little girl, bundled in an oversized coat and rain boots.
Her dark eyes, from a distance, stared steadily into Connor's face.
A YK500.
The missing child.
The taxi stopped suddenly in the middle of the icy road, skidded forward before it came to a sideways halt. Connor had already flung open the door.
The girl whisked silently away into a narrow alley.
"Laura!" Connor called out her name, dashed after her between close walls and dark slush, past leaking dumpsters into a small parking lot, where the little girl turned sharply and raced down another street, her yellow boots flashing.
Connor's eyes narrowed while he chased in her wake.
She wasn't running away.
She was leading him.
