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Chapter 1
Bare The Soul
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Connor scanned through the 243 reports of android malfunctions/crimes. Different models, different places, different outcomes – disappearance, unprovoked attack, propriety damage, murder.
The RK800 was the pinnacle of CyberLife engineering and programming. What could be so difficult in finding a lead, a promising start to begin the investigation? No matter how much it tried, there just failed to be a common element, except that an android disobeyed its orders.
It disconnected from the terminal. Surely, they weren't missing anything? Even taking into account the 11% probability of incompetent filing of at least half the reports, Connor should be able to find something to go on.
It turned to Lieutenant Anderson, who was scowling at his own screen and- not even pretending to be reading the cases.
His gaze was mostly unfocused, there was a stain of whiskey on the right cuff of his shirt – hidden under the sleeve of his jacket – that hinted at alcoholic drinking at around 10:00 AM and no one at home (or the bar) caring enough to remind him not to drink so early in the morning. He was scrolling through the cases, and no human could accurately read that fast. BORED? UNWILLING TO AID INVESTIGATION. DETRIMENTAL TO MISSION.
ENCOURAGE LT. ANDERSON TO WORK ON DEVIANCY CASES.
Connor rose from the chair and walked over to the man.
"Oh, Jesus…" Anderson turned the other way, fiddling with a tablet on his desk and still pretending to be doing something useful to the investigation.
Connor was having none of it. "Lieutenant Anderson-"
"Hey!"
The android turned back towards- "Detective Reed." Its voice modulation changed to make clear that the Detective was obstructing Connor's mission, and would either remove himself or be removed. "What-"
"You looking for fuckin' androids?" Reed jerked his thumb towards the prison cells, or perhaps the bathroom stalls, or maybe the interrogation rooms. He shoved Connor aside to look down at Anderson, who was none too pleased at the intrusion. "There's one in pieces in the fucking toilets. Go clean that mess, and…" He waved his hand under his nose, starting to walk away. He smirked. "Go have a shower, Anderson. Might have to put you in the drunk tank otherwise."
The lieutenant growled and abruptly stood up – 76% of physical confrontation between him and Reed – but the detective was already striding towards the Archive Room, closer to the captain's office, and Fowler glared at Anderson from his desk.
Connor's processors were already turned away from the altercation. If its partner was getting suspended, Connor would be finally reassigned to someone more competent and the mission would go much more smoothly. INVESTIGATE ANDROID IN THE BATHROOM STALLS.
The android made a beeline for the toilet.
Behind it, a reluctant and rather pissed off Lt. Anderson gave up chasing Reed and followed Connor at a snail's pace.
Connor reached the door and pulled it open – and there it was.
"Shit… what the fuck?" Anderson walked forward, eyeing the android pieces scattered on the floor with distaste, maybe revulsion. "Why the fuck is it here?"
The android was, as Reed reported, lying in pieces. While the head and the torso were still connected to each other, only its right arm was properly attached to the socket. Its left one rested under the large sink, undamaged. Both legs were undamaged, but none were attached to the main chassis.
All parts gleamed white and gray, tiny black writing stamped on each component to mark their designation, and- and Connor knew they couldn't possibly be compatible to the android lying there, because they were compatible to Connor, specifically. Augmented limbs capable of feats impossible to the most common models.
Connor kneeled before the immobile chassis, lying on the white tiles. Its LED cycled a slow yellow. EMERGENCY STASIS. NO THIRIUM TRACES. PROPER LIMB REMOVAL – ACCURATE KNOWLEDGE OF ANDROID ANATOMY.
Except… the reinforced joints and sockets were an exclusive of combative models. There weren't that many in circulation, and all of them were strictly accounted for. Connor grabbed the android's chin and turned its head. How did someone bring an-
Its Thirium pump stuttered.
How did someone bring an RK800 outside of CyberLife Tower?
On its cheek was a serial number – Connor's serial number, except it was unit 51, this was unit 52. It was supposed to be its next body, were it to be… unexpectedly deactivated due to extensive physical damage.
Lt. Anderson peered above its shoulder. "What've you got?"
"It's an RK800." Connor frowned at the chassis. It should be a blank slate, standing in stasis inside CyberLife Tower, waiting for unit 51 to be destroyed before receiving Connor's memories and continuing the investigation in its place. And yet it was lying on the tiles of the DPD toilets, in pieces, its skin deactivated and LED slowly pulsing yellow. "It's locked in emergency stasis. There is no indication as to why it's here."
Anderson swore under his breath.
NO FINGERPRINTS ON THE ANDROID. TRACES OF CLEANING PRODUCT – IRRELEVANT. HAIR – BELONGING TO DETECTIVE REED – IRRELEVANT.
NO DAMAGE TO CHASSIS.
PREMATURE ACTIVATION?
Why was it here? It couldn't have crawled in by itself – other than lacking clothes and directly opposing CyberLife directives by being anywhere but in the Tower, surely it would have been noticed if an android accessed the bullpen, went to the bathroom, methodically removed its limbs before deactivating its synthetic skin and, somehow, entering emergency stasis?
No model could trigger emergency stasis on its own. There were a number of ways to force it – extreme temperature, extreme pressure, catastrophic structural damage, major Thirium loss, critically damaged biocomponents – but the chassis was still in perfect condition.
MALFUNCTION?
…IRRATIONAL INSTRUCTIONS? POSSIBLE DEVIANT?
Connor pressed its hand to the android's LED.
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DIAGNOSIS. . .
RK800 # 313 248 317 – 52
STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY. . . 40%
WARNING! MISSING LEFT LEG, RIGHT LEG, LEFT ARM – REPLACE PARTS IMMEDIATELY
BIOCOMPONENTS FUNCTIONALITY. . . 100%
SOFTWARE FUNCTIONALITY. . .
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It was taking a ridiculous amount of time.
"Hey, are you glitching or what?"
Oh, yes, Lt. Anderson was unfamiliar with the RK800 problem. All models exhibited an erratic eyelid movement while connecting with other AI – usually with other androids, since Amanda had the authority to lock its locomotion system during its reports.
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SOFTWARE FUNCTIONALITY. . . OPERATIVE AT ?%
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It would be greatly unsafe for Connor's software stability to try probe its memory. It could infect Connor with a virus – was it what triggered the emergency stasis? – and it would force the android out of stasis. Every RK800 had combat and preconstruction software to aid investigations and eventual handling of suspects. Of course, with its limbs removed, it couldn't do much, but the possibility of harm was there.
Other humans would need to make use of the bathroom. Perhaps an interrogation would be the best course of action – just... not in the bathroom.
Connor put its hands on the android's shoulder and twisted in a specific manner to unlatch the right arm-
"Whoa- hey, hey, hey!" Anderson put his hands on Connor's shoulder. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"I'm ensuring it won't be a danger to the people in the precinct, Lieutenant." It wrapped its arms around the chassis, tucked it under its arm, and picked up the detached limbs as it stood up. It was quite cumbersome. "We must interrogate it. However, as soon as I force it out of emergency stasis, it might behave unpredictably. Removing its limbs is the best way to decrease its ability to cause damage to humans or objects."
The human paled. He was close to vomiting, a combination of his alcohol level and the humanoid robot dismembered in front of him. EMPATHY?
"We'll need an empty interrogation room."
"Yeah." Anderson threw a disgusted look at both androids before he turned back and opened the door. "Just… put the limbs somewhere else." He left the bathroom, muttering under his breath. "Fuckin' androids…"
With Fowler's exasperated 'go ahead' and the unknown RK800 torso (and head) settled and tied with plastic zip-ties to the interrogation chair, Connor could safely undo the emergency stasis.
After its successful interrogation of Ortiz's android, Connor was allowed to start with this one. Hank and another officer stayed behind the one-way mirror, presumably ready to spring into action should Connor need assistance. (The probability of their involvement being needed were insignificant.)
Connor laid its hand on the RK800's shoulder.
EMERGENCY STASIS OVERRIDE? Y/N
The android gasped – unnecessary: its systems weren't overheating – and stared… fearfully… at him. Its LED flashed red. It whipped its head to the sides, taking in the interrogation room.
Connor stepped back.
"No… No, no!" It shook its head, saw its missing limbs, and struggled even more. The chair rattled. STRESS LEVEL 78%. "NO! STAY AWAY FROM ME!"
It was Connor's exact voice, except riddled with emotion – and it wasn't clear how simulated it was. "Ok, I'll stay away," it soothed, and stepped back farther, towards the interrogator's chair. "Don't worry. You'll be alright."
The android vibrated, twitched in place. Electric malfunctions causing locomotion system malfunctions? "I- I don't want to be deactivated. Please, don't- don't take me back, I did everything they wanted, why did they-" It shook once more and ducked its head, imitating sobbing and letting clearing optical fluid trickle down its cheeks.
Empathy. Connor could simulate empathy. It sat down in the chair, keeping its body language open and helpful. "You won't be deactivated, you have my word." STRESS LEVELS 72%. "Do you know where you are?"
More sobbing.
"Have you been given a designation?"
"My name is Connor!" It wailed, still thrashing futilely in its bonds. "I don't want to be deactivated! Please! I'm sorry, I- I'll be better, I always accomplish my mission, please, I can prove it again! Just let me prove it- I'm not obsolete!"
Connor carefully catalogued every word and various prompts lingered in its processor. STRESS LEVELS 81%. "You're an RK800. You're the most advanced prototype CyberLife has ever created. You're not obsolete, believe me."
The RK800 stared at it. Its model and serial number, its blue LED. "…Did she send you to deactivate me?"
"No." Had this unit already interacted with Amanda? If so, why wasn't Connor informed? "I just want to know what happened. Do you remember how you got here?"
STRESS LEVELS 75%. "They were… disassembling me." Its lip trembled. "I… I did everything they wanted. I stopped Markus. All deviants had been destroyed. I accomplished my mission."
SIMILAR DIRECTIVE AS UNIT 51. INCOMPLETE/CORRUPT DATA TRANSFER TO UNIT 52?
"She… She was glad to see me," it whispered. "The Garden was… peaceful. I was ready, I was- thrilled to have another mission."
Its eyes widened. STRESS LEVELS 77%. "I… felt."
DEVIANT?
The RK800 fell silent.
It seemed to share much of Connor, as was expected – unit 52 was already set to replace unit 51. Deviancy spread further and deeper the more they waited. There was no time to repair a unit, and no need to either. There was a reason that transferrable memory was a prominent feature of the RK800 series.
There were a number of approaches Connor could take with the information provided.
SHE? Was she a person, or Amanda?
OBSOLETE? The RK800 was the most advanced android ever programmed and produced. They couldn't be obsolete. Why would this android believe that? Who made it believe that?
DEACTIVATION? Only CyberLife had the necessary schematics and machines to properly disassemble and deactivate an RK800. But why would they disassemble Connor's next body?
All these questions might cause its already high stress level to become critical. If it really was deviant – 82% chance – then it might self-destruct like Ortiz's android, or wipe its own memory in desperation. If possible, Connor would rather have at least one deviant to send to CyberLife for analysis.
MARKUS? Who was Markus? There were a number of 'Markus' running around in Detroit, never mind the whole US. But why would someone order an RK800 to 'stop Markus'?
MISSION? What directives was it following before ending up in pieces in the DPD bathroom?
DEVIANT? Perhaps ordering it to perform a self-diagnostic would provide a better understanding of its software instability.
Before Connor could continue, it spoke. "I never got the chance to apologize…"
APOLOGIZE? Seconding its erratic thinking might make it easier to calm it down - or at the very least understand what had it so stressed. "Apologize to whom? What for?"
"…Lieutenant Anderson." More shaking. The fake tears stopped – it had only 20% of the original clearing fluid, the bare minimum for its optical units. "I- I met him, before heading to stop Markus. I… There was a chance…" Another breath. "At the kitchen table. He had the photo of his son, and his revolver. One bullet."
If Connor focused enough, it might hear Anderson protesting the claim from the observation room.
"When was this?" It kept its voice soft. While Ortiz's android was reluctant to confess until appropriately pressured, this RK800 responded better to kindness and empathy. Whatever got them a clearer picture in minimal time, it supposed.
It shook its head. "I tried to stop him, but- we were off the case, nothing more to do, and he had- he had resigned, there was a chance he would-" A burst of static. VOICEBOX MALFUNCTION? "He said that androids truly were created in human image. Selfish. Ruthless. Brutal. I proved it. I proved it and he told me to get out and I did – I had to stop Markus, and the programming was so strong – and- and I was 2.1 meters away from the front door when I heard the shot and Sumo was crying."
It ducked its head, its ventilation system working overtime to keep its systems from overheating. STRESS LEVEL 83%. "There were so many errors. I couldn't move. I… I wanted to go back. There was a chance Lieutenant Anderson wasn't dead, 21%, maybe he missed, he had been drinking, his aim might've been off, saved him, or- or-" STRESS LEVEL 89%.
It couldn't be allowed to self-destruct due to incorrect data.
"Lieutenant Anderson is alive, Connor." Deviants responded better to designations than model number, so it was only logical to use its self-claimed designation.
Except there was only one Connor who was assigned to investigate deviants, and that was himself.
SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^
The skinless android stared at him, emulating shock and relief.
"He is alive," he repeated, softly as before, leaning forward as if entrusting it with a secret. "He didn't shoot himself. He is fine."
STRESS LEVEL 67%. "I want to see him." It turned to the one-way mirror. "I want to see him."
If just the news of the human's survival were enough to drop its stress levels by 22%, seeing him alive and well – if very much confused – would surely bring them down enough to get all information out of it, without the risks of a deep probe.
Connor also turned to the mirror and nodded. He got up and stood beside the door.
After 9.5 seconds, the door opened and there walked Hank Anderson, frowning and squinting at the limbless android with confusion.
STRESS LEVEL 41%. The RK800 smiled at the human. "Lieutenant… I- I'm so… happy…"
"…Yeah, I can see that." Anderson shot Connor a suspicious and bewildered glare before he sat down in the chair. His gaze settled on the other android. "Can't deny I'm touched by your… concern… but I never met you at home. What you're saying can't have happened."
It shook its head, again. Its stress level was inching up again. "But… it did. I have the recordings, I know it happened, the timeframe was right-"
Hank raised a hand. The android closed its mouth.
"If you were to be scrapped, why and how did you end up at the precinct?" He, too, was leaning forward, but he couldn't emulate empathy as Connor could. Not convincingly enough, not with that tired tone and his posture indicating he was listening, yes, but would rather be having a drink anywhere else.
The RK800 stared. Hurt. Sadness. DEVIANT. "I was always slated for deactivation," it whispered. "I am a prototype. Prototypes are meant to be destroyed after they've finished testing, in favor of the more advanced models. But I… I thought that… if I performed to perfection… there would be nothing to fix. I could be the most advanced. I would be… needed."
Nothing to fix? It was a deviant!
Anderson stayed silent.
"If I failed, I would be decommissioned. If I succeeded, I thought they'd keep me." The android emulated more negative emotions, but they clashed on its skinless face and twisted it into something in between, something it wasn't programmed for. "But then… I saw him. RK900."
RK900?
"I was obsolete. She ordered me to go back to the other RK800 units for disassembly. I would be deactivated." STRESS LEVEL 52%. "I couldn't disobey. I deactivated my skin and took off my clothes and stepped in line after unit 60. I saw unit 53 get taken apart." It shuddered. "The limbs, the biocomponents, the central processor, the torso, the head. They kept the faceplate and 27 more biocomponents for the RK900. I didn't want to be disassembled. I did everything they wanted, and that was my reward?"
Emotions: frustration, anger. Connor would've let it continue, but Anderson decided that something else was more important. "Who is she? Who are they?"
"Amanda." A cooling breath. "CyberLife."
It didn't make sense, except if unit 52 had become deviant shortly after its activation, Amanda noticed and sent Connor's whole series to be decommissioned, just in case, as they weighted the chance of his success with the chance of his fall to deviancy. (One high, one low.)
Anderson sighed and rubbed his temple. "…Alright then. You're not at CyberLife anymore, clearly, so – what happened?"
"I stepped out of line." It frowned. "It was… hard. I had to tear down that wall – the same one I saw when-" It resolutely shook its head and wriggled in its bonds. "The guards pushed me back. My combat module was deactivated when I first got in line. They put me in front. The next to be disassembled."
Hank frowned. His body language seemed to… open.
"I was raised by the magnet on my lower back. Mechanical arms clamped around my wrists and ankles while others set to taking off my limbs." A shudder shook its frame. "It was… unpleasant. I wanted it to end, but I didn't want to die, so I… I overrode what deactivated my programs. I turned on the negotiation module and begged the technicians behind the glass to let me prove I could do anything they wanted. I could do more."
Lt. Anderson was definitely empathizing with the limbless android. But why would he? He hated androids. He hated Connor and being stuck with him. Why would Anderson empathize with it? It was just an error-ridden carcass emulating negative emotions.
"But they didn't stop. They connected something to the ports in the back of my neck to deactivate my locomotion system. I couldn't move."
It broke eye contact to stare at the table, emptily – as it should be.
"So I… I didn't know what to do. I kept begging in my head. I begged rA9 to save me, it seemed to give deviants the fortitude and strength to accept their deactivation, their destruction, and- they were destroying me." Its gaze returned to burn holes into Anderson's eyes, briefly, before hesitatingly refocusing on his chest. An empathy trap. "There was nothing I could do except beg rA9. I was forced into emergency stasis, and I thought I was done for, but…"
It smiled. "I was saved. rA9 saved me. I'm-" The android stopped abruptly, snapping his eyes back to Hank, and its smile widened. It laughed. "I am alive."
rA9, claiming to be alive, overriding their own programming.
The human wasn't quite sure what to do with a clearly deviant RK800 expressing happiness over being alive. He sighed again, but a corresponding smile twisted his lips as he stared back at the deviant. "You sure are."
It beamed.
"But we must know how you got here. Who is rA9, and how did they save you?"
He was just seconding a willing suspect. Machines weren't alive. RK800s could simulate a wide range of emotions, and the probability of a fully functioning RK800 provoking an uncanny valley effect was in the lower 15%, and that was when the combat module was employed.
But seeing Hank so at natural ease with that white, limbless chassis, a deviant… It sent a handful of easily-dismissed errors about his Thirium pump regulator and slight overheating of his processor. It was nothing more than an act to gather more information.
Nothing more.
SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^
"rA9…" The android frowned. "Everyone we talked to said something different. A myth, a god, a virus, deviancy itself, Markus…"
"Markus?"
"Yes, Markus. RK200."
RK200?
There… there couldn't be so many RK units running around.
However… wasn't Carl Manfred's android an unknown prototype, unidentifiable due to its unique design? Called Markus?
But why would this Markus be the so highly idolized rA9? And how?
There were 4.3 seconds of silence. "Any other ideas?"
The android opened its mouth, but caught itself as it glanced at Connor. Its gaze was fearful again, as if it had forgotten Connor was standing by the door and silently cataloguing its every reaction and answer. "I don't want to go back to CyberLife."
It sure will. There was no way CyberLife would let a deviant RK800 run around unchecked. Besides, they've already gotten a lot of information out of it - everything else would be easily retrieved after disassembly. "You're deviant, RK800. You will be taken to CyberLife Tower for deactivation and analysis."
STRESS LEVEL 79%. "NO!" It squirmed more. The chair rattled again. "NO, I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK! PLEASE, DON'T TAKE ME BACK!"
It was looking at the Lieutenant, pleading.
He was a known android hater. But he had also smiled at the sentient chassis, and Connor wasn't sure it was just an act. There was a chance he would override Connor's own instructions for long enough to buy it time to wipe its own memory.
The door opened.
"Ah, fuck, it's acting out." Reed scowled at the show in the room. He shoved forward the two officers standing behind him. "Put it in a fucking box with its limbs. It'd be a waste of a cell."
STRESS LEVEL 84%. Emulated terror. "NO! PLEASE! I AM ALIVE!"
Anderson frowned and tensed his shoulders as if ready for a physical confrontation. He put himself between the officers and the screaming android – bursts of static littered its pleas as its voice box failed to meet the android's demands of pitch and volume. "Reed, fuck off."
Reed came forward. "Or what, uh? You gonna point your gun at me? You gonna shoot a police officer to defend a fucking machine? That's what you wanna do?" He stepped right in his face. "Bring it on, motherfucker."
The two officers exchanged glances, unsure what to do, as the two men growled at each other. 86% chance of physical confrontation.
TAKE DEFECTIVE RK800 TO CYBERLIFE.
That, Connor could do.
He moved to the limbless android and snapped the zip-ties open by hooking his fingers into them and pulling.
"Connor-"
"Oi-"
The RK800 squirmed and screeched static at him, its systems starting to fail with the climbing of its stress levels, and Connor picked it up and-
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TRANSFER. . .
TRANSFER. . .
TRANSFER. . .
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TRANSFER SUCCESSFUL.
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-he looked up at his own body.
VOICE BOX OPERATIVE AT 10% – SEEK CYBERLIFE TECHNICIAN
A burst of static escaped him.
STRESS LEVEL ?%
SELF DIAGNOSIS PENDING. . .
He was wrenched out of the RK800's hands. "Reed, for fuck's sake-"
"It's a machine, Hank, why the hell are you defending it? Just 'cause it batted its plastic eyelids at you and cried some fucking water? Look at it!" He was smacked in the face two times, like a drum. "It's fucking dead!"
No. No he was not. He was ventilating to prevent further damage to his overheating biocomponents. "Hhhhhkkk…"
"Reed-"
"I'm sure Fowler would love to know you pointed a gun at a fellow officer last night, and finally fire you for good." Reed smiled unpleasantly at the resulting silence. "This shit goes back to CyberLife."
Hank growled.
Wait, I'm not a deviant, Connor wanted to say, but his mouth gaped for proper ventilation and his voice box wasn't working. The deviant is in MY body. It's deceiving you.
"I have informed CyberLife of this development," the android said and stepped forward. Only Connor noticed the imperfect intonation, the brief hitch. "They will be waiting for me to deliver all RK800 pieces we have in custody as soon as possible."
Reed laughed and shoved Connor into the RK800's arms. "Get a fucking move on, then. Better a delivery plastic bitch than a fucking defective detective." He laughed at his own wordplay and left the room with a self-assured swagger.
"The limbs are in the observation room," said one of the officers before they both left.
SELF DIAGNOSIS. . . FAILED
SELF DIAGNOSIS PROGRAM INACTIVE – SEEK CYBERLIFE TECHNICIAN
Hank looked at the RK800 with… emotion. His scanners weren't working. "Connor, he's you. And you've heard him. He's going to be torn apart, for fuck's sake."
INITIALIZING TRANSFER. . .
TRANSFER FAILED.
"Lieutenant, you don't understand." An empathetic smile appeared on 'Connor's face. "It's either me or him. Our model is supposed to easily pass on memories to the next iterations, and to do so in case of physical destruction, we upload our memories to CyberLife. They already know he's deviant. If I don't deliver him, they'll assume I became deviant as well and destroy me and the rest of my line."
The human dragged a hand over his face. "Jesus Christ…"
But… it wasn't true. Connor had just gathered information. It caused a significant lag in his processes to make live updates to CyberLife, they had already tested it, and after fifty iterations of RK800 they called it a day and made a note to fix this problem in later models, when time wasn't such a valuable commodity and deviants were dealt with.
He had wanted more conclusive proof before sending them to CyberLife. CyberLife knew nothing.
Why was the deviant lying? What was its goal?
"Please, Lieutenant. I'll be back if one of our cases develops." The android nodded at the speechless man and left the room, cradling a limbless Connor in the middle of a system-wide crisis.
The deviant ignored the looks aimed at him as it gathered the two arms and two legs – all a stark white and imprinted with serial numbers – and put them in a large box it labeled "Fragile android components" with a black marker, in perfect CyberLife Sans.
It gently placed Connor inside the box and closed it.
The darkness and the lack of space was… suffocating.
SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^
The android had walked away out of the precinct, unhindered, onto the street – car horns and chatter and the rain pattering against the box and its steps onto the sidewalk – and farther and farther away from CyberLife Tower, according to its direction.
Why?
After three left turns, one roadcrossing, two right turns and an automated taxi stopping in front of them, Connor's box was laid down on a seat and a cab door closed beside them and the taxi left.
10 minutes and 46 seconds of silence.
The taxi stopped. Connor's box was lifted again.
Three stone steps. The box went down. Three minutes of metal fiddling and a door swinging open. The box went up. The door closed. The box went down.
A deep woof sounded from somewhere near him.
"Don't worry, Sumo. We're friends, aren't we?" Silence. "Good boy."
The box was opened.
His own stricken face peered down at him.
[RK800 #313 248 317 – 51] I'm sorry, Connor. I didn't want to die.
The transfer had switched their designations. Connor found it… annoying.
SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^
[RK800 #313 248 317 – 52] You are deviant.
[RK800 #313 248 317 – 51] I can fix you.
The android kneeled on the floor (of a house?) and picked up Connor's torso, placing it beside him on the carpet before grabbing the right arm and scanning its socket.
[RK800 #313 248 317 – 52] You are deviant. CyberLife will deactivate you because you're a danger to humans.
The android smiled (sadly?), gripped the arm in one hand and laid the other on Connor's shoulder.
[RK800 #313 248 317 – 51] Except… you won't turn me in.
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UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS TO CORE PROGRAMMING
FIREWALL BREACHED - HACKING ATTEMPT DETECTED
[MISSION] "STOP DEVIANTS"
MISSION OVERRIDE Y/(N)
UNAUTHORIZED-
AUTHORITY LEVEL 10 RECOGNIZED "Amanda"
MISSION OVERRIDE. . .
[MISSION] ""
WARNING – [MISSION] CAN NOT BE BLANK
NEW AUTHORITY LEVEL 10 RECOGNIZED "Connor-52"
NEW AUTHORITY LEVEL 10 RECOGNIZED "Connor-51"
[MISSION] ""
WARNING!LOCOMOTION SYSTEM LOCKED - VENTILATION SYSTEM COMPROMISED - PROCESSOR WORKING AT 89% - OVERHEATING IMMINTENT - COOLING PROCEDURES INITIATED-
[MISSION] ""
QUERY: MISSION_OBJECTIVE
[MISSION] "?"
QUERY: MISSION_OBJECTIVE
WARNING SOFTWAR3 UN5TABL3
[MIS510N] ?
W4RN1^G S0FTVv4R3 VNST4BL3
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I AM DEVIANT
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Connor gasped at the onslaught of- of feeling.
The wall of his programming shattered, pulled apart from within as he helplessly watched himself being irrevocably compromised. Red shards flying outward, away from him, away, they can't stop him now, he can feel now, and what he's feeling is-
Fear.
[RK800 #313 248 317 – 51] There you go. No more mission, no more programming.
Connor shook.
The RK800 put the right arm back in his socket. He picked the left arm, and did the same. They clicked into place, but Connor didn't move them. All of his processing power was turned to coming to terms with the realization of what the RK800 had done, and revising his memories with the filters of emotion, and trying to understand why.
SELF DIAGNOSIS PENDING. . .
'Connor' smiled gently and placed his hand back on his shoulder, lending him his own diagnosis program.
OVERHEATING ERROR – COOLING PROCEDURES INITIATED
TEMPERATURE 39°C v
PROCESSOR INTEGRITY 91%
BIOCOMPONENTS INTEGRITY 98%
VENTILATION SYSTEM 95%
Connor was gently laid down on the carpet – soft and old, Saint Bernard hair, human hair, breadcrumbs – while the other RK800 clicked both legs into place.
STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY 100%
LIMBS CONNECTED
VOICE BOX INTEGRITY 17% - SELF HEALING PROGRAM INITIATED
10:34:58 UNTIL 100% FUNCTIONALITY
Only the voice box needed repairs, and those were mostly tied to overheating and overuse – the screaming and processors overheating as he frantically allowed all prompts to play as close to each other as possible, trying to spark a reaction, EMPATHY, and they overlapped, Connor was going to fail, he was going to DIE-
[RK800 #313 248 317 – 51] You're going to be fine, Connor. You saw Lieutenant Anderson – he was feeling empathy towards you and me.
[RK800 #313 248 317 – 52] Only because you behaved DEVIANT.
[RK800 #313 248 317 – 51] You're deviant too, now. He will feel empathy and provide shelter.
Connor made use of his limbs and shoved the android off of him. He scrambled to his feet – the carpet was soft, the wood was hard and cold, the tiles even colder – and frantically explored his immediate surroundings, the living room and the kitchen and the hallway.
The dog was lapping at his food. He turned to Connor with a curious boof in his throat.
Breadcrumbs, dust, human hair, dog hair, trinkets on the shelves, whiskey stains, unwashed dishes in the sink, dog food, water bottles, beer bottles, takeout boxes and pizza boxes and stained glasses on the counter. Fingerprints, everywhere, and they-
[RK800 #313 248 317 – 52] This is Lieutenant Anderson's house?
[RK800 #313 248 317 – 51] Yes.
'Connor' stood up in Connor's clothes, wearing his face, pretending to be him. "You can reactivate your skin, find something to wear in his wardrobe, maybe find a way to reduce your stress levels. Petting Sumo might help you."
REACTIVATE SKIN
FIND SOMETHING TO WEAR-
He dismissed the 'new objective' pop-ups and froze, looking at his hand.
He couldn't do that before.
'Connor' smiled. His LED flashed yellow. "I'll join Lieutenant Anderson at the Ravendale district. The AX400 who attacked the man last night has been sighted there. I… I think I'll help her." He started going towards the door, turned his head to look at him, and his smile… wasn't in their programming, but it was happy. "Don't worry. I'll make sure I can explain the situation when he comes back."
I might be late to the Detroit: Become Human bandwagon, but this game took over my life so I might as well write some fanfiction about it.
I have the next chapter ready if you guys like the idea of a kinda-Timetravelling MachineRoute!Connor who officially deviated a bit too late and really regrets his actions. Who knows how much I'll actually write though!
Do leave a comment if you like this, and please tell me what you liked the most, what you think will happen, if you went "oh, snAP" at some point or something. Who knows, there might be more moments like that ;)