Hank wears a grim look as he paces back and forth, phone glued to his ear.

Connor steps out of the car when he ends the call.

"Is everything alright, Lieutenant?"

He looks like he's in shock. "Chris was on patrol last night and was attacked by a bunch of deviants… They found his body early this morning."

Hank's explanation is clinical, measured, as if reciting a report. "He was executed in cold blood by his own service weapon." His cold eyes are somber. "He became a father three months ago. Fuck. Why'd it have to be him?"

Connor doesn't feel emotion, but this is personal for Hank. The snow that falls around them is suddenly colder. "I didn't know officer Miller well, but… He seemed to be a good person." And that's the truth. Officer Miller was never unkind to him during their brief interactions, and everyone at the precinct had regarded him highly.

Riley's black Challenger appears in the distance. Hank places a hand on Connor's shoulder. "Do me a favor. Don't tell her yet. Chris was the first responder at her accident years ago. She would've died without him. This is going to be really hard for her."

"Wouldn't it be better to tell her now? I don't think this is something you should keep from her."

Riley pulls up beside Hank's car. "She needs time to grieve. We don't have that right now."

She steps out of the car with a steaming thermos in hand. She smiles at them both. "Good morning Hank. Connor."

"Riley," Hank greets her. He manages to plaster on a small smile to return hers.

Her eyes are swollen. The bags under her eyes are almost as dark as the bruise on her neck, but there's no sign that she's been crying, and her chipper attitude confirms she hasn't received the news yet. "You look tired, Ms. Haas."

"I'm a little hungover," she admits sheepishly.

"Well, hopefully you're alert enough to handle this. You'll know which questions to ask better than I will."

He leads them up the ramp to the luxuriously modern lake-side mansion. Riley mutters a "if only I owned a trillion-dollar company," under her breath.

It is a bit over the top.

"How did you find Kamski?" Connor asks.

Hank explains he remembered seeing him all over the media when he first started selling androids. He had to a make a few calls to set this up.

Hank rings the doorbell. Riley sips her coffee. There's something peaceful about the way her gaze glides over the snow-covered earth.

An RT600 "Chloe" model opens the door. Riley chokes on her coffee.

It lets them in after Hank awkwardly states what they're here for.

Connor scans the room. Straight ahead is a large portrait of Elijah Kamski himself covering the wall. Two sculptures representing female designed androids stand on each side of it.

"Nice girl," Hank mutters after he takes a seat.

"Yeah, she is," is Riley's immediate response. "She's really pretty."

She tails Connor while he wanders around. "It's not a girl," he clarifies. "It's a machine that looks like a girl."

"I mean, if she preferred male pronouns, I would respect that," she says casually, completely unperturbed. "Actually, one of the first androids I ever repaired was a Chloe model."

Hank raises his brows. "You repair androids, too?"

She sips her coffee. "Mmhmm. I like fixing things. It doesn't matter whether it's software or hardware."

Connor's eyes land on the framed picture of Kamski while he was still in college with a woman who looks all too familiar.

Hank makes a comment about the mansion. "I guess androids haven't been a bad thing for everyone."

Riley hums in agreement as she comes up next to Connor. She eyes the photo, and then him. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"So," Hank interjects after a few uneasy seconds. "You're about to meet your maker, Connor. How do you feel?"

"It doesn't raise any existential questions if that's what you mean."

He takes on a distant tone. "Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face to face. I'd have a couple of things I'd want to tell him."

"Amen," Riley adds.

The door opens and Chloe gestures them inside. A large pool, painted red as wine, takes up most of the room. Two Chloe's loll in it, hanging on the ledge, chatting amicably.

"Well, this is excessive," Riley mutters.

"Mister Kamski!" Hank calls.

"Just a moment!" Is his reply. He swims to the other edge of the pool, kicks off, and comes back to their end.

Connor walks over to the wall to wall windows looking out over the water. The Cyberlife Tower, hazy from the fog, stands tall in the distance.

Once Kamski is out and donned with a robe, Hank introduces himself and Connor. "And this is Riley Haas. She was previously a programming engineer at Cyberlife for a few years."

Kamski inclines his head toward her. "What was your position when you left?"

"Senior Cyber Security Engineer," she answers. "I'm not gonna' lie. I thought you were swimming in a pool of blood when I first walked in."

He smirks. "No, no, I'm afraid not." Then, to Hank, "So, what can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, we're investigating deviants. I know you left Cyberlife years ago but, we were hoping you'd be able to tell us something we don't know."

Kamski considers him for a long moment. "Deviants," he echoes. His eyes slide over to Riley. "Fascinating, aren't they?" He tilts his head back to Hank. "Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will. Machines are so superior to us. Confrontation was inevitable. Humanity's greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Isn't it ironic?"

"If a war breaks out between humans and deviants," Connor firmly states, finally grabbing Kamski's attention, "millions could die. It's quite a serious matter."

"All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics. Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?"

"Didn't you just present the answer to that question before the actual question?" Riley asks.

Kamski acknowledges her with an inclination of his head. Hank interrupts them. "Listen, I didn't come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something that'll be useful, or we will be on our way."

Kamski considers him for a moment, then steps over to Connor. "What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?"

Connor doesn't hesitate. "I'm on the humans' side, of course."

"Well, that's what you're programmed to say. But you," he steps closer. "What do you really want?"

His tone is forceful. "I believe we're the ones asking the questions."

"Actually," comes Riley's calm voice. "I have a legit question." When Kamski glances over at her, she continues. "In the programs that control biocomponents and touch-feedback interconnected with the cognition units, there are instructions that simulate an adrenaline rush in some androids. It's connected to the self-preservation modules. Was that intentional? Or was that a result of AI learning to emulate that response?"

"That's an interesting question, Ms. Haas. A security engineer usually wouldn't need to go that deep into the code."

"Curiosity, Mr. Kamski. And, also, while we're on the subject, there's something I don't understand. AI is designed with a type of reward system in the form of positive and negative instructions. That's how it learns. 'Good job' means it learned the right thing, and vice versa. This is essentially the same in humans, although our code comes from chemical responses in the brain. I mean, given that, doesn't that already set the basis for acknowledging the fact that AI has evolved to become self-aware?"

He raises his brows and glances over at Hank. "I'm not sure why you felt you needed to come here at all when you seem to have an expert with you."

"That probably has to do with the fact that you're the one that actually created them," Riley answers impassively.

He hums softly, then calls Chloe over to him. "Why don't we explore your theory of self-awareness, Ms. Haas? I'm sure you're all familiar with the Turing test." He places his hands on her shoulders. "Mere formality. Simple question of algorithms and computing capacity." He guides her to stand before Connor. "What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy, which would also imply the self-awareness you were talking about. I call it "the Kamski test," it's very simple, you'll see.

"Magnificent, isn't it? One of the first intelligent models developed by Cyberlife." He caresses Chloe's cheek. "Young and beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither. But what is it really? Piece of plastic imitating a human?" He turns around and opens the drawer to the end table behind him, continuing his monologue. "Or a living being… with a soul?"

He holds up a gun. Then, with a hand on Chloe's shoulder, he has her kneel before Connor. He stares into her emotionless eyes.

"It's up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor." He places the gun into Connor's hand. He pulls his arm to aim directly to the middle of Chloe's forehead. "Destroy this machine and I'll tell you all I know. Or spare it," he steps behind him, moving to his other side, "but you'll leave here without having learnt anything from me."

"Connor…" Riley calls to him with trepidation, a warning lying beneath her quiet tone.

"Okay," Hank cuts in. "I think we're done here. Come on, let's go. Sorry to get you outta' your pool."

"What's more important to you, Connor?" Kamski persists. "Your investigation, or the life of this android? Decide who you are."

"That's enough!" Hank commands. "Connor, we're leaving."

"Pull the trigger."

"Connor!" He shouts. "Don't."

Riley hurries over to Connor's side and grabs his forearm. "Don't you dare, Connor. We can figure this out another way."

He refuses to look at her. His fingers tighten around the handle of the gun.

She tries to pull his arm away.

He doesn't let her.

His eyes stay trained on Chloe's.

They almost appear azure.

He clenches his teeth.

"Connor," she tries again.

The mission comes first. He can't let anything get in his way.

Especially not hazel-green eyes alighted blue.

He pulls the trigger.