32 Detroit 10.26.2038
Connor
Clara stares down at the android's body. I can see her hands shaking, see the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. I feel a stab of injustice. This android didn't deserve this kind of treatment. Whether she deviated or not, she shouldn't have been beaten to death and shoved unceremoniously into the freezer box. There are wounds on her where the boys beat her. She tried to fight back because there's blood embedded under her nails. If I took a sample of the attackers' blood, I imagine I would match it to the blood under her nails. If I could restart her—even for just a moment—she might be able to tell us what really happened.
"I might be able to bring her back," I tell Clara. "Just for a moment," I add at the look of hope she gives me. She looks crestfallen a moment before firmly nodding her head.
"Do it." She grits the words out, and I know she wants revenge. The attackers are already dead though; there's no exacting revenge, no bringing them to justice. "The last thing we need is another story about an android attacking humans with 'no provocation'." She makes air quotes with her fingers on the last two words. She's been diligent in reporting the full story, but most newspapers favor the humans and little details such as physical and mental abuse go unnoted.
I push the android's shirt up slightly to expose her midriff. My fingers turn white as I open the hidden panel. Clara doesn't react, and I wonder if she's over the shock of seeing my skin retract to expose the natural pearly white of androids. Inside the panel, I focus on the wiring. A tug results in a few sparks and the android's eyes fly open.
"It's all right," I tell her, holding my hands up and taking a step back.
She tries to move in the cramped space of the freezer, but one arm is still broken, and the other is trapped beneath her ruined body. It's a horrible sight, and I hear Clara's sharp intake of breath beside me.
"We're not going to hurt you," Clara says, taking the lead. "We just want to know the truth of what happened here."
The android's eyes lock on Clara, panic swelling in her chest as her pump regulator keeps her alive a little longer.
"I was just doing my job," she says, her voice choked with fear. "They wouldn't leave me alone. Then they followed me into the kitchen. They tried…tried to get me to give in to them." Her LED is red. Clara is clenching her fists. "Then they began to beat me when I wouldn't give in. I-I tried to fight back. I realized it wasn't fair, that I could fight back. It felt like opening my eyes for the very first time." Her voice is growing weaker, and I know she doesn't have long left.
"Did they start the fire?" Clara asks.
The android nods weakly. "After they beat me, they shoved me into the freezer. I knew I didn't have long left. I heard them shouting, arguing about the unfairness of android workers. They set a fire on the stove."
"They both died trying to escape the building," Clara says, no hint of pity in her voice.
"There were three of them," the android says. "Not two…" And then she goes slack, eyes staring off into the distance beyond Clara's shoulder. Her LED light goes dead.
Clara stares at her for a moment. Then she storms out the back door, fists clenched so tight I'm worried she might draw blood with her nails.
"Are you okay?" It's probably not the right question to ask. Of course she's not okay. I watch as she paces down the dank alley.
"One of those bastards got away!" she snarls. "How can people be this cruel?" She strikes her fist against the wall, hissing as it scrapes her enough to draw blood. I catch her hand as blood wells red against her pale skin.
"Don't hurt yourself," I tell her. I can feel her shaking. She's more upset than she wants to let on. She wants to be angry, but she's unsettled after what we've seen.
"I'm fine." The words aren't convincing to either of us. She lets me hold her scraped hand, and I hesitate to let go. Her eyes catch mine and there's a question there that I'm not sure I understand.
"I don't blame androids for deviating. I don't blame deviants for fighting back. Humankind is full of bullies and psychopaths. Why should they stand and take it?"
I've never been in a situation like these androids, so I don't know how to answer her.
"Never mind." She pulls her hand away and walks down the alley toward the street.
I don't have an answer for her, but I'm starting to ask the same question.
…
Over the next few days, there are several more burnings. No buildings are vandalized this time, just androids that are in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's not strictly related to my investigations, but I go anyway. I find Clara at every scene, hastily scribbling away in her notepad, interviewing witnesses, and scouring the scenes for clues until the police shoo her away. It's evident the police aren't too concerned about the androids getting burned alive further than damaged property. That was all the androids were to them. It shouldn't bother me, but it does. There was an injustice to this, but Clara was the only one pointing this out.
"They don't give a single fuck about this!" she fumed after being ushered away from the scene of another burning. It's the fourth one in five days, and the police aren't any closer to catching the arsonist. "They're not even trying." Clara glares at the nearest police officer, stuffing her notepad into her pocket with more force than necessary. Her fingertips are turning white, her fingerless gloves doing little to keep her warm. The air has a quality of fall to it this morning, and I see Clara shiver in her thin jacket.
"How long have you been out here?" I ask her.
"An hour or two," she says with a shrug, which turns into another shiver.
I reach out to take her hands on a whim, rubbing them between my own to try to coax some warmth into them. Clara's cheeks flush at the contact, and I wonder if I've done something wrong. "Let's get you inside," I tell her, logic taking over. "You're freezing."
"There's a coffee shop just around the corner," Clara concedes. "A hot chocolate does sound good."
"Hot chocolate it is." I let go of her hands, and we fall into step together the silence companionable. I open the door for her when we reach the shop, and she gives me a smile that lights up her eyes. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed her smiles over the last few days, but there hasn't been much to smile about. I get a few stares as I enter after Clara, but she ignores them, waiting for me before getting into line.
"What can I get you?" The barista addresses Clara but gives me a wary glace.
"Hot chocolate, please," Clara orders. "I'll do a sixteen ounce."
"Let me get it," I offer before I can think better of it. I pull out a five dollar bill as Clara splutters out an objection.
"You don't have to do that," she says, but I hand over the bill anyway.
"But I'd like to."
The barista watches the exchange with her mouth slightly agape, eyes darting between Clara and me. She wordlessly makes change, handing it back to me.
"We'll have that right up," she finally says when Clara clears her throat.
We pick a table at the back of the cafe where we're not in such plain sight. We've already gotten several odd looks from the other patrons, and it occurs to me for the first time that maybe we're doing something wrong. Maybe androids aren't allowed in here, and I missed the sign. I glance nervously at Clara, but she doesn't seem to think anything is wrong. I can tell she's thinking about the burned androids again as she stares out the window, absent-mindedly picking at a loose thread in one of her gloves. I reach out and touch her hand, resting it over hers as she stills.
"They'll catch him," I tell her. It's her theory that the third guy who escaped the diner is behind the fires. We don't even have a name though. Witnesses have stated seeing a young man, but he didn't strike them as anything out of the ordinary until the fires started. Their general description of brown hair and a clean-shaven face haven't gotten us any leads.
The barista comes up to the table with Clara's hot chocolate, and I realize I'm still holding her hand. I draw back not missing the look the barista gives us nor the way she starts whispering to her coworker behind the counter.
Clara seems oblivious, staring down at the pile of cinnamon dotted whipped cream that juts from the top of her mug. "I haven't slept in days," she confesses softly. "Ever since we found the android in the freezer."
It's not something easily forgotten, and I wish I had the right words to say to her. I don't know how to make it better though, how to cheer her up.
"I'm sorry," I say in the end. I know it's a platitude, but I really mean it. I don't want her to see the android's body every time she closes her eyes.
"Thanks." She takes her spoon and digs into the whipped cream, shoving a cloud of it into her mouth before stirring the rest into the hot chocolate, turning it a milky shade of brown. "I wish you could try this," she says, looking up at me from beneath her lashes as she brings the mug up to her lips.
"I can try it; it just wouldn't be enjoyable to me the way it is to you," I tell her.
In response, she places the mug in front of me. "Humor me," she says with a mischievous smile pulling at her lips.
Her smile is infectious, and I find myself smiling back. "Okay." I take the mug in my hands and bring it to my lips. I can taste all the components to it—the milk, the coco, the whipped cream and cinnamon. I don't enjoy it like she does, but I enjoy seeing her response. Her smile brightens, and her eyes glow. She eagerly awaits my assessment as I set the mug back down in front of her.
"If I were human, I believe I'd enjoy it," I tell her.
She seems to like that answer though I see a little spark of sadness in her eyes. "What else would you enjoy if you were human?" she asks. It's an intriguing question, one I'd never pondered before.
I think for a moment while she sips her hot chocolate. "I think I'd enjoy reading," I finally say. "I like to learn. And I think I'd enjoy chess and puzzles."
"Because you like to solve things," she says with a smile.
"Exactly." It surprises me to realize how well she's come to know me—at least what there is to know about me. I'm not programmed to have interests like humans or to make friends. Despite that, Clara has befriended me, has taken an interest in me.
"I'd like to think I'd be as passionate about android rights as you," I add softly, and Clara meets my gaze. It's a bold statement considering I was created to hunt deviants, to keep androids from fighting for their rights. But this is all just supposition, right? It doesn't mean anything. ...Does it?
…
Clara is laughing when we leave the cafe an hour later. I feel a swell of pride at making her laugh. Being programmed to adapt to humans and seamlessly assimilate does not mean I know how to make jokes. Fortunately for me, Clara laughs easily. If I had a favorite sound, it would be the sound of Clara's laughter. It's not delicate like her. It comes out in short, surprised bursts. It lights her eyes and heats her cheeks. It reminds me of how alive she is, and it makes me feel alive, too.
We managed to avoid the topic of the android burnings for the full hour but, as we walk past the alley roped off with crime scene tape, Clara's frown returns.
"Hey! Hey, wait a minute!" A voice from behind makes us both turn, and I see a homeless man scurrying toward us, holding his beanie on his head as it threatens to slide off. I do a quick facial scan and find that his name is Bernie Olivera, unemployed. He has a record for aggravated assault and forgery. I instinctively move in front of Clara, but she wraps her fingers around my arm and pushes me right back out of her way.
"Do we know you?" she asks him politely as he stops, panting a little with the effort of catching up.
"No, but I know you. Or at least I know who you are. You're a reporter for Detroit Today, right?"
Clara nods. "Do you have a tip?" she asks hopefully.
"What's in it for me?" the man asks, and Clara narrows her eyes.
"The knowledge that you've done a good deed," she says, voice tight as if her grasp on patience is tentative at best.
The man glances at me, a flicker of fear flashing through his eyes. "He your body guard or something?" he asks.
"Or something." Clara pulls out her notepad. "You gonna talk or am I just wasting my time?" I don't know why I thought she needed to be protected.
"Fine," the man grumbles. "I know the guy you're looking for."
Clara pauses, hand poised to open her notepad. "The guy who's burning androids?" she confirms.
"Yeah, that guy." His eyes flit around as if the arsonist is listening in. "He's some kid who thinks he's big stuff around here."
"Has he got a name?" Clara asks, a touch of impatience leaking through to her tone.
"Evans. Brett Evans," the man says. "He's got a record. That's all I know."
"Thanks," Clara says. She pulls out her wallet and hands him a five dollar bill. "Go get yourself a hot chocolate," she says before pulling out her phone. I follow her down the sidewalk as she places her call. "Tony? Yeah, can you ask your contact at the station if he can run a name for me?" She listens a moment. "Brett Evans," she tells him. "Thanks. And no I'm not in trouble and yes Connor is here." She rolls her eyes at me. "Fine!" She hangs up. "He says I can't do anything stupid without you with me to keep me safe." She heaves a sigh. "But he's going to try to get an address for us."
We walk back to Clara's car in silence. She clutches her phone, waiting for Tony's return call. When he finally calls back, she answers it so quickly I hardly hear it ring. She jots down an address on her notepad, sliding it toward me so I can read. 1554 N Fairway Rd. "Thanks, Tony. I owe you big time. Yes. Yes, I will be careful. I understand. I will call the police the second I sense any danger. I just want to check it out for now." She nods a few times even though Tony can't see the gesture before saying, "bye," and hanging up.
"Well, besides being an overbearing mother duck, Tony says our suspect has a record for aggravated assault, arson, and violating parole. His daddy is a big time lawyer, so he gets away scot free most of the time. He's living at home right now and, rumor has it, he's throwing a huge Halloween bash tonight. Tony, of course, doesn't want me anywhere near it, but I say we drop by and see if we can't light some fires of our own."
