CHAPTER 19 | BORDERLINE

DECEMBER 15, 2038

5:30PM

The conference table in front of Connor was suspiciously neat. If he were an outsider, that's what he'd think. Too clean, too uncluttered to be in use by humans. At the DPD, there were always notepads, pens, tablets, chargers. Crumpled up napkins and lipstick-stained coffee mugs, crumbs and a pile of picked-over pastries sitting in the middle. So right now, the single bowl of fake fruit serving as a centerpiece, and impeccably placed chairs were almost unsettling.

Of course, looking around him, at the other androids crowded around the oval table, there were still things that were...off. Their clothes, for one. They were dressed in muted tones, layered and fitted perfectly to every curve of their bodies, no tears, stains, or faded colors from too many times through a heated dryer. Even without their LED's, they were all still too perfect.

Connor supposed it didn't matter, because they were trying. This was all Markus's idea anyways. Get used to sitting at a table, speaking out loud, listening to one another before answering. Because at some point, it wouldn't just be the five of them. There would be humans in the room. And androids had no choice but to communicate their way, especially if they wanted to get anything done.

North didn't like it, but Connor hadn't been surprised by that. He wasn't quite sure what she thought defiance would accomplish, especially now. Josh and Simon had agreed. And Connor had as well, although, he was probably most equipped to deal with humans in a professional environment than any of them were.

And, to them, Connor was probably the one that looked the most out of place. He'd yet to shed his CyberLife-issued uniform or LED. He could say it was to make some sort of statement, but he'd be lying. He still wasn't sure what he was supposed to be.

Connor had left Hank's home and moved to CyberLife, hoping that he could mend what ailed him amongst the other androids living there and by joining Jericho's council. It was too soon for him to decide if he'd made the right choice. But he was in too deep now to back out on his commitment to Markus and the others.

Markus sat at the head of the table, with North on his left side, and Simon to his right. This was Connor's first official meeting with the council, but they'd been in consistent contact since he'd first arrived at Jericho, which was now located in CyberLife's abandoned headquarters.

"I've still heard no word back about when negotiations are taking place," Markus said, a bit stiffly. Connor had already downloaded and reviewed all communications that had taken place since the revolution, so he was aware that U.S. diplomats were skirting around making any definitive statements about the androids' future.

He wondered if, like most problems, they'd be ignored. If most androids that deviated ended up in Detroit, it was only one city lost, one that, without CyberLife, offered very little economic stimulation. It tracked, based on American history. And while Connor knew that anticipating conflicts was another function ingrained in his programming, he didn't enjoy the negative feelings associated with imagining them, the unnecessary stress on his systems.

"But protests have begun outside the city limits," Markus continued. "Detroit citizens have been forced out of their homes, and have lost their jobs. They're angry with us."

North crossed her arms. "Why should we worry about what they think? It's their own government that's failing them."

Connor didn't know much about North, besides the fact that she was a Traci model. Based on how he saw the Tracis treated at the Eden Club during his investigation before the revolution, he understood why she tended to be harsher than the others, and tended to keep to herself. But, in his opinion, he didn't think that taking her route would lead them to any sort of victory.

"I don't think they're willing to admit that," Josh said.

"Their concerns are valid," Markus said. "We want answers too. But I fear the longer we are kept from negotiations, the higher tensions will rise, and there will be consequences. This could end unfavorably for both sides."

North leaned back in her seat, taking a deep and unnecessary breath. Markus' eyes shifted to her briefly before he continued.

"We're all frustrated," he said. "But if we continue to reach out to the others and keep them aware of the situation, we can stay on top of things on our end. Simon, have you incorporated any new ideas into the accords?"

Simon nodded, leaning forward to place his elbows on the table. For not being human, he at least was starting to understand their mannerisms. He spoke, and Connor processed everything, but it wasn't anything new.

Since the end of the revolution, the council had been compiling a list of demands and talking points to be presented to the government once negotiations took place. It seemed the council had thought of everything already, before his arrival, and now they were editing, trimming, trying to be as succinct as possible while still encompassing all facets of their newfound freedom.

So, Connor found his mind wandering elsewhere. He couldn't help but feel somewhat jaded, doubting that the solution to their problems would be as simple as signing a treaty. Of course, he wanted the same things they did, he just couldn't bring himself to feel the same level of optimism they seemed to have, even North. Maybe he'd made the wrong decision coming here after all. They seemed to have figured it out without him, so how was he valuable? Was he just another face on the council, did he really even have anything to contribute? He was still trying to wrap his head around why Markus felt he should be here, after everything.

And the feeling of uselessness was the least of his problems compared to his own guilt. Connor was hardly able to look at Simon, who was the same PL600 model as Daniel, the suspect in his first case as a negotiator, who he'd watched get shot in front of him. That had been his doing.

"You lied to me, Connor. You lied to me…"

They had the same voice, all he could hear when Simon talked. And as much as Connor wanted to erase those memories, he knew it was wrong. It didn't mean it hadn't happened.

Barbara and Hank had both thought it was a good idea along with Markus, so he couldn't figure out why he still wasn't entirely sold. Then again, what better things did he have to do?

Connor remained in the room long after the meeting adjourned, watched Simon and Markus leave hand in hand, synthetic skin peeled back and away as they interfaced. It made sense, the two of them.

He replayed a memory then, of something that comforted him. Despite the regret he felt about his job as a deviant hunter, there were some times he missed the mundane routine he'd grown accustomed to when he was sat at the office with Hank and Barbara.

Barbara sat across from him at her desk, hunched over a notepad, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as she jotted down notes. At the time, he'd been doing everything to make sure he could transition into his role as smoothly as possible, which had meant studying mannerisms to learn their habits, seeing if they mentioned anything about their personal life that could be made into small talk later.

It seemed insincere now, his only reason for fostering any sort of interest was to ultimately aid in accomplishing his mission. And he wondered at what point he really started to care. It had to have been before he had a gun pointed at Markus' head and had been prompted to make the decision for himself.

Revisiting the memory now, he wasn't just collecting information. The dark circles under her eyes indicated a lack of sleep….how late had she been up the night before? Her free hand was clenched, creases around her eyes deeper...she was stressed. What could he have done to help her?

Connor took an unnecessary breath, straightened his tie, and stood from the table. He knew it wasn't healthy to dwell on old memories. Barbara had been right. It wasn't the best idea to be involved with one another. Realizing that hadn't changed his feelings, but now he sat on the council. What sort of message would it send if he was involved with a human? Most of the androids at Jericho had traumatic experiences that had turned them deviant. Even though Connor felt differently, he couldn't expect them to understand. He wondered if any of them ever would.

JANUARY 5, 2039

4:36PM

The cold bit Barbara's cheeks as she stepped out of her old Jetta, tucking her gun into the holster at her hip. She doubted there was anyone prowling about the warehouses in the area, but she'd been trained to always be cautious.

All morning she'd been shaking some sort of chill, and she wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck. Winters in Detroit were always the worst, all the snow blown in from Lake Erie and Lake St. Clair seemed to never cease. While a small crew of plows had still kept it at bay on the main streets of downtown, out by Rivertown, it was knee deep.

Wind whistled eerily through broken windows, as Barbara trudged to her destination. Years ago, the Rivertown Warehouse District had been an up and coming neighborhood, inhabited by hip transplants from out of town, who had MBA's in Finance and disposable income. For them, rent was affordable, and with breweries and wine bars on every corner, they didn't even have to leave their block on the weekend to go out.

When CyberLife built their headquarters on Belle Isle, they slowly began buying out the warehouses turned apartments only to turn them back into storage space, setting up parks and office buildings for their campus and employees. Barbara had always thought it was a bad business move, as if their headquarters wasn't massive enough already, and she ended up being right. With stock flying off the shelves, there was no need for the massive buildings which ultimately remained empty for years, becoming temporary living spaces for the homeless and other vagrants.

It wouldn't have surprised her if there were drug-related murders, deals, and dens out in this area, but for Jessica Wilson, it was an unlikely place to be found. She had no record of drug usage, all her toxicology reports had come back clean. Her family and friends had described her as someone who stayed out of trouble, enjoyed knitting and volunteering in her free time. She'd had a cushy job at CyberLife, paid vacation, sick days and 401k. Didn't seem like much of a risk-taker.

It could be so simple, that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She saw something she wasn't supposed to see, and she paid the price.

But everything Barbara knew was Jessica Wilson on paper. And she wasn't naive enough to believe that it was always that simple. What she knew was what she put out to the world. But there was always a chance she had been hiding something.

An abusive partner, maybe. Or she could have gotten mixed up in something dangerous.

Barbara had already thought up about a hundred theories with what she knew, what was most likely, what was least likely. But what she really needed was evidence, something that they had very little of.

Today Gavin had been manageable, and had agreed to stay behind to continue phone interviews with family and friends. But Barbara wanted to see where her body had been found, just to see if there was anything forensics had missed, which she doubted. But maybe she'd figure out something, just by being in the space.

Her body had been found in a narrow alleyway between two large warehouses, it was believed she'd been placed there after she'd already been murdered, a single shot through her forehead, so there was little to know evidence at the scene of the crime.

Gavin, of course, had theorized that an android had done it. At first, she thought he was just trying to piss her off, but there was some validity to his claim. Since they were so close to the CyberLife headquarters, where all the androids had flocked after the revolution, it was likely there were some residing nearby.

The lack of fingerprints and minimal physical evidence was another sell. Whoever had done it had been careful, which made her think it was premeditated. And she had been a CyberLife employee, maybe it was an act of revenge? But what would their motive be? And why her?

Barbara couldn't answer those questions, and didn't need to right now, since it was just a theory, and one of Gavin's at that.

She could see CyberLife tower from where she was, and wondered on what level of glittering office lights Connor stood, and what he was doing. Hank had told her he'd decided to join the council at Jericho, and she was happy for him. For her, it was a melancholy feeling, but she supposed it didn't matter what she thought.

Her visit to the scene was fruitless, even after combing a few other streets. Plus, she was getting creeped out. It was getting dark, and she didn't like being out here on her own, even having a gun. Staring at the tiny alleyway, where she knew a woman had once lay dead, sent chills up her spine, goosebumps rising up her arms. Something was telling her she shouldn't be here anymore….that she was unwelcome. Or maybe she was just in her head.

She should have trusted her instincts.

Heading back to her car, the snow began to come down harder, and a light fluttering became a full-blown whiteout. Barbara wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against the howling wind. Her brain was playing tricks on her, hearing voices amongst the wind. What she felt next wasn't unfamiliar, a cool cloak of eyes following her every move. From where, she wasn't sure, and by whom, it could have just been someone camping out in one of the warehouses. But still, she brandished her gun, glancing over her shoulder to see the streets empty.

All it took was a hand in her hair, yanking her to the ground with such intense force she didn't even have time to react. The back of her head hit the ground, luckily, coated with snow, but it didn't stop all the air from leaving her lungs for a brief moment, a moment long enough to have her gun pried from her fingers.

Barbara had training, she knew what to do and wouldn't go down without a fight. She kicked, screamed, clawed, but her attackers, there were at least three, didn't seem fazed. They were strong, their faces blurry. Her vision was spotty after she'd hit her head. She saw black shoes, gray sky, white snow, red snow.

But her efforts proved futile. There were too many. She was unarmed. And the final fist to her temple was what welcomed her into the involuntary surrender of unconsciousness.

Wow we love a cliffhanger. Anyways, I am a messy bitch that lives for drama who loves putting my OC's and all characters for that matter, into unpleasant situations. But we'll see what happens to our friend Babs.

And my first attempt at writing any type of political OR crime fiction so some of these ideas might be off or far fetched. I've hated the last two chapters because I'm trying to set a lot of things up but it's super boring I feel. Be nice to me, I'm still learning and trying to research as much as possible.

Anyways, let me know what you think and stay safe and healthy!