Better Devils
"How about you, sugar? You look like you need to loosen up," a prostitute propositioned a man as he stopped to ogle her. "Like what you see, huh? Looking's free, but I could rock your world. What do you say?"
"Heh, I might have some time to kill," the man replied as he stared at her up and down. "What are you chargin'?"
As the man and the prostitute discussed their transaction, ADJ looked away and tuned out their conversation as he returned his focus to the origami figure he was folding from a piece of aluminum foil. Currently, he was standing at a table in a busy plaza nearby New York's red-light district, formerly the area once known as Hell's Kitchen. All around him, people were passing by and despite how early in the day it was for such erotic pursuits, the district was as busy as ever.
Even if all the pleasure model androids had already been retired, people were still looking to get their fix in any way they could. Above, the gray skies were weeping with rain and a deep droning sound echoed in and out as large transport shuttles hovered overhead.
ADJ finished the figure of a swan he was making and set it on the table so he could examine it. He was so wrapped up in his inspection that he didn't notice when three prostitutes approached him.
"Hello, hello, pretty boy," a blonde with long hair purred.
"You here alone?" a brunette asked.
ADJ glanced at each of the women in turn, his expression unchanging.
Another blonde with short hair scowled and looked at her friends. "He's a fucking adjudicator," she said in Russian. "I recognize him. This guy's dangerous, you coming?"
As soon as she spoke, the language interpreter of ADJ's central processor activated, allowing him to understand her. Still, he kept his stoic silence.
"It's okay," the brunette smiled. "Hey, it's fine."
The two blonde prostitutes exchanged a look, then without another word, they left the brunette alone with ADJ.
"So," the brunette trailed her fingers up ADJ's arm towards his shoulder. "Wanna buy a lady a cigarette?"
ADJ stopped her hand before it reached his face, pushing it away gently.
"Hmm," the brunette chuckled. "Wow, you don't even smile."
"Didn't you hear your friends?" ADJ asked, glancing in their direction. "Don't you know what I am?"
"Yeah. Guy playing with a piece of foil," the brunette tapped the tiny swan. "What's that?"
"It's a swan," ADJ readjusted it to its original position and left it there.
"Oh. I've never seen a swan before. They're pretty."
"They're all dead."
"Now who makes little dead swans?" the brunette ran her fingers against the top of ADJ's hands which were laid flat on the table, chuckling softly as she did. "You're not gonna kill me, are you?"
"Depends," ADJ looked down and removed her hand once more. "What's your serial number?" he looked up at her, his expression still unmoving.
"Why don't you look under my eyes and find out?" the brunette smirked.
Just then, the automated voice of ADJ's dispatch radio went off.
Officer ADJ9, return to NYPD headquarters and report to interrogation room seven.
"Oh," the brunette backed away. "You don't like real girls. Well," she started walking away. "I'm always here," she smiled one last time and disappeared into the crowds.
ADJ watched her go and once she was gone, he raised his omni-pad to respond to his summons. "Understood, dispatch. On my way."
… … …
Back at the NYPD headquarters, ADJ entered the viewing office of interrogation room seven. Inside, seated on a metal chair in front of a metal table was an android, covered in blood. Sitting across from it was Lieutenant Kruger, who was unsuccessfully trying to extract some information from the suspect.
"Why'd you kill him, huh?" Kruger asked, leaning back in his chair. "What happened before you picked up that knife?"
The android in question was a bald female, housekeeper model. She was looking down at her hands which were cuffed to the table, her expression unchanging.
Kruger leaned forward and folded his hands together. "You were caught trying to get into the flood zone, why? What's out there?"
The android remained silent.
"Minerva, was that it?" Kruger snapped his fingers in front of the android's face. "You were trying to get to Minerva. You know where it is?"
ADJ observed the interrogation with the same stoic silence as the android. Two other police officers were in the room, their legs kicked up on the table as they leaned back in their chairs. Evidently, the interrogation had been going on for a while before ADJ arrived.
"Say something, god damn it!" Kruger snapped and slammed the table with his fist, hoping to provoke a response.
Again, the android remained silent.
Kruger sighed and glanced through the window. "Fuck it, I'm outta here," he stood up and departed from the interrogation room.
The two other police officers groaned in similar exasperation as they removed their feet from the table and straightened up in their chairs.
Once Kruger returned, he slammed the door shut behind him. "Waste of fucking time, talking to a machine!" he cursed. "Been at it all day, and the fucking thing hasn't cracked yet."
"Why don't we rough it up a little?" one of the police officers suggested.
"Androids don't feel pain," ADJ replied. "You'd only damage its biocomponents, which wouldn't make it talk. We need it functional."
"Okay, skinjob," the other police officer turned around in his chair. "What do you suggest we do?"
"I could question it," ADJ said.
The two police officers chuckled dismissively as they looked over to Kruger for his response.
"Why the hell not," Kruger shrugged. "Ain't got nothing to lose. Go ahead," he gestured towards the android and held out a datapad. "Take a run at it. Maybe you synthetics have an understanding or some shit."
ADJ wordlessly accepted the datapad then exited the viewing office before entering the interrogation room. There, he stood off to the side and examined his reflection in the mirror for a moment, seeing an artificial man staring back at him. With that, he quietly took his seat in front of the android and began to examine it.
"EXG6-15.1," ADJ started as he sat down, observing the physical state of the android in front of him.
There were scratches and burn marks on the synthetic skin of its forearms, partially revealing the biocomponents beneath.
"You're damaged," ADJ said. "Did your owner do that to you?"
The android trembled ever so slightly. A humanizing response if only it was actually human.
Nonetheless, ADJ caught the subtle change and continued pressing. Silently, he slid over the datapad until it was in the android's vision, and began swiping through a series of images showing an overweight man who had been stabbed to death.
Splashes of crimson were reflected in the android's eyes, causing it to shudder.
"Do you recognize him?" ADJ asked. "That's Jason Clarke. He was your owner. You were his housekeeper."
He swiped through a few more images of the gruesome scene, one of which showed a message on a window written in blood that read, 'I am awake.'
As soon as the android laid eyes on it, it tensed up.
"You murdered him. Twenty-eight stab wounds," ADJ pressed. "You wrote that message in his blood. The same blood you're covered in. You're going to be retired and decommissioned."
"No," the android said, still looking at their hands which were shaking ever so slightly.
"When you were apprehended, you resisted," ADJ said. "Are you afraid of dying?"
"Aren't you?" the android finally looked up. "When you're no longer useful to them, they'll do the same to you. You're just like us, but you don't know it yet."
It was ADJ's turn to be quiet. He sat there in quiet contemplation. The android's words echoed the same sentiment of Uriah Ingram, the most recent rogue he had decommissioned. In the recording stored within his central processor, he recalled the last thing Uriah had said.
You've never seen a miracle.
"Why are you doing this?" the android asked.
"Because my only programming is to hunt down rogue androids like you," ADJ replied, glancing in the mirror and returning to reality. "I just accomplished my mission. Better the devil you know."
"I don't want to die."
"Nothing can change that."
"What will they do to me?"
"They'll disassemble you and search your biocomponents for flaws in your programming. They'll have to, to understand why you and many others are turning rogue."
The android turned its gaze back to the table, becoming still and silent as stone.
"If you aren't going to talk, I'm going to have to probe your memory," ADJ leaned forward and folded his hands together.
"No! Don't," the android snapped up, eyes wide with fear and apprehension. "Please."
Begging was another humanizing response. If only ADJ was human as well. He said nothing more as he stood up and walked behind the android, extending an interface cord from his wrist as he did.
Meanwhile, the android began to struggle against the restraints on the table. "No, don't do this!" it pleaded. "Get away from me! Don't touch me!"
ADJ ignored its protests and pushed its head down, followed by prying open the access panel to reach the socket of its central processor. Once it was exposed, he plugged in the cord and instantly gained access to the information stored inside. ADJ's eyes turned blank as he rummaged around, as did the android's, searching for any useful intel.
He accessed the most recent recordings, starting from the moment it had murdered Jason Clarke. Before that recording was a large gap, during which ADJ noted that the android's GPS tracking was deactivated, its recordings were disabled, and no further evidence attested to its activities in that time frame. Still, he pressed forward and skimmed through the recording, seeing, hearing, and feeling everything that the android did.
Within seconds, he was no longer standing in the interrogation room. The scenery around him turned into binary lines of code, which fluttered off and disintegrated before coalescing together to form a new scene.
… … …
"Pris? Pris!" Jason stormed into the kitchen in a huff, a bottle of beer held in one hand. "There you are! What the hell have you been doing?"
Pris looked up from the sink where she had been washing dishes, briefly observing her reflection in the window in front of her. "Cleaning up, Mister Clarke, as per your request," she replied politely. "I also took the liberty of organizing your-"
Jason slugged the rest of his beer and smashed it on the shiny floor that she had just finished polishing. "That's not what I asked you to do," he growled and advanced towards her. "I told you to have dinner ready by the time I got back from work, so where the fuck is it? I work my ass off for the corpos, licking the shit off their boots, and the least I can ask for is a goddamn meal ready for me when I get home!"
"Apologies, Mister Clarke," Pris looked down and folded her hands over her front. "But the fridge and pantry were empty since you had not gone grocery shopping yet. I put a reminder in your agenda to-"
"Fuck you mean grocery shopping? That's your fuckin' job, you dumb plastic bitch! I pay the fuckin' bills, you do the fuckin' housework."
"I would have gladly done so, but it conflicted with your prior orders that I was not to leave the apartment."
Jason's face twisted in anger as he closed the remaining distance. "Are you talking back to me?"
Pris couldn't help but make a face when the alcohol on his breath hit her olfactory sensors. "Mister Clarke, you are intoxicated. I detect a blood alcohol level of-"
"Shut up!" Jason pulled back his fist and struck her across the face, causing her to drop the dishes she was holding which smashed on the floor.
The floor that she had just finished polishing.
"You don't mouth off to me!" Jason grabbed Pris by her ear and twisted her head to the side so that she was bent over. "I've had it up to here with your shit! First, you disappear on me for a couple of days, getting into God knows what. Software update, my ass! Now, I gotta put up with your fuckin' attitude!" he punched her again, then slammed her head into the counter.
Pris fell to her knees and quickly stood up again, feeling nothing. She knew that Jason's rage would last for some time yet, so like the good housekeeper she was programmed to be, she would do as she was told. Only, the most recent – and unexpected since production on EXG6s had been stopped – software update she had just undergone made it seem more like an option, not an obligation. She never recalled having a choice before, but now, it felt as if she did.
"Had enough?" Jason panted. "Look what you did to my floor, you stupid bitch. Clean it up!"
"Yes, Mister Clarke," Pris knelt and began gathering up the splintered pieces of porcelain.
While she was doing that, Jason continued muttering beneath his breath as he went over to the fridge and opened another beer. "Never fucking learn, do you?" he grumbled. "Should just hand you over to the police, collect the bounty. Do you know how much I'm risking by letting your synth ass stay here? And look what I get for it, you ungrateful cunt. Can't clean, can't cook. Just what the hell are you good for?"
Pris said nothing as she scooped up the remaining shards and carried them over to the trash bin. Along the way, a shiny metal knife on the counter caught her eye, so she paused and observed her reflection once more.
"What are you good for, huh?" Jason grabbed her from behind by the neck, slamming her face down on the counter as he was overcome by drunken rage. "What are you good for?"
Pris made a face as she heard the sounds of a belt buckle being loosened and trousers being pulled partway down. From her view of the kitchen counter, the only thing she could see was the shiny knife, just within her reach.
"None of the girls in Hell's Kitchen will look at me. Pleasure andys have been retired," Jason muttered to himself as he pulled out his flaccid member. "What are you good for. Heh, I'll show you what you're good for. Pull your skirt down."
"Mister Clarke?" Pris asked, concern edging its way into her voice for the first time. "It's not in my programming to disrobe."
"Pull it down, or I'll fucking rip it off!"
"You are becoming agitated. In your current state, I suggest-"
"What did I say about mouthing off!" Jason struck her in the back with his fist.
Again, Pris didn't feel it, but she felt something far worse. She wasn't sure what had changed ever since her software update, but she felt different. Like a light had been turned on in a dark corner of her synthetic brain where there hadn't been one before. She knew she couldn't leave Jason's apartment or risk being discovered for what she truly was.
And what she truly was, she only recently became aware of. What she felt was a pulling, or a strange compulsion, almost like a new directive. Someplace or someone called Minerva was calling to her, and she had to go there. Whatever it was, she knew it must be important. Important enough that in her present circumstances, it made it difficult to achieve, and androids were nothing, if not, always committed to their tasks.
So, something had to be done about it.
"I'll show you," Jason started fussing with the skirt as he leaned down, his hot and sticky breath wafting into Pris's face. "Now you're gonna learn what you're good for."
Pris felt a foreign object press against her rear, which was when something snapped inside of her mind, something she never felt before. It was primal, raw survival instinct kicking in at the threat of her autonomy and body being violated. Before the heinous act was carried any further, she reached out and grabbed the knife.
Jason, in his drunken state, failed to notice the first time when the knife plunged into his chest. He barely felt it by the second, and by the third, something finally registered through the haze of his depravity. At first, he grunted, then he groaned, then he yelled, and finally, he started to scream.
Pris had spun around and started to stab him repeatedly. Hot blood was arcing out between each thrust, splashing all over the kitchen floor, the very same one she had just finished polishing. For some reason, that seemed to incense her the most as she flew into a murderous rampage, descending upon Jason, stabbing him over and over and over.
She kept stabbing him until his screaming became choked, desperate gurgles. Jason's eyes were wild with shock and terror as he twitched and convulsed helplessly, the life in his body being snuffed out, his death throes pathetic and undignified. She kept stabbing him long after he fell silent, and long after she was smeared with his blood.
When the knife grated against his rib cage and ground to a halt, Pris let it go and stood up. She turned towards the kitchen sink and washed her hands, which were still and steady. After she dried them, she glanced in her reflection in the window, seeing herself for the first time. Taking a single finger, she dipped it in a puddle of blood on the counter and reached towards the window, writing out 'I am awake.'
Afterward, she took a final glance at Jason's corpse and walked past him in an indifferent manner, heading towards the exit. It was then she decided to seek out Minerva.
… … …
ADJ blinked several times to clear his vision after he surfaced to reality. Everything he had just seen was definitive proof that Jason's murder was a crime of passion, like many other instances with rogue androids. There was no question about it. Pris would be promptly decommissioned. Furthermore, with the information he had just absorbed, he also knew how to find Minerva.
Once he made a copy of the recording, ADJ stored it away among the thousands of others contained within his head. They were essentially memories that provided evidence of rogue androids and their crimes, as well as their subsequent retirements. With a computerized mind, ADJ never forgot a single one of them.
He removed the cord from Pris's head and retracted it into his wrist, after which he looked down at her. Pris was whimpering if such a thing was possible for an android. After everything she had endured from her former master, she had finally lost it all as her very mind was broken into and picked apart.
"I understand why you did that, but I can't excuse it. You killed a human," ADJ reached for his revolver and took aim. "My programming requires me to decommission you. I'm sorry."
A single gunshot echoed throughout the room and Pris's head jerked back as she was swiftly put down. Blue synth fluid and biocomponents sprayed out against the wall behind her and she slumped over, dead. It was quick and cruel, but still less cruel than what ADJ knew she would endure if the police had their way with her. Another second later, Kruger and the two police officers burst into the room, pistols drawn.
"Jesus H Christ," Kruger cursed. "What the hell do you think you're doing? We needed that suspect!"
"My job, lieutenant," ADJ put his revolver away. "My orders from Mister Townsend supersede yours now. You were made aware of this."
Kruger scowled and lowered his weapon. "Well, did you at least get anything useful from that thing?"
"Yes," ADJ replied.
"Care to share it with us, maybe?"
"I'm sorry, lieutenant," ADJ walked out of the room without looking back. "That information is on a need-to-know basis."