Hank couldn't let it go. Those Traci's were sticking like glue to his conscious. But maybe he should have changed the subject. Now here they were, sitting on Cole's favorite bench with the perfect view and they were arguing about what was real and what wasn't.
"They just get overwhelmed by irrational instructions!" Connor had forgotten all about Sumo. Now he sat entirely facing Hank and Sumo whined. "It's just a mutation in their software."
"Didn't seem irrational to me," Hank said. "C'mon over here Sumo, I'll pet ya."
The big lug tried to jump up onto Hank's lap, but there wasn't enough room for him. "You're not a puppy anymore!"
Now Connor was annoyed at being ignored. "Lieutenant-"
"If they were irrational instructions they wouldn't be following a human's logic, Connor."
"What do you mean?"
"Okay, for example." Hank paused when Sumo rolled over onto his back, begging for a belly rub. He groaned. "Sumo, I'm not about to get down there…"
"For example?" Connor said. Positively vibrating in frustration.
"Hold on, you gotta give Sumo a belly rub."
"Lieutenant!"
"I won't give you an example otherwise."
With a sigh, Connor knelt on the grass beside Sumo and tentatively pet his belly. He did it the same way he'd done when Sumo was upright. The dog whined.
"No, you've gotta really rub him."
"Massage," Connor murmured. "Knead, stroke, pat."
"What was that?"
"I was searching for synonyms," Connor said. "Though each word has a different image accompanying it. To stroke is more gentle than a pet or pat, but to rub is quick and firm."
He started rubbing at Sumo's belly with gusto and the dog's leg went crazy. It was thumping at Hank's foot so he scooted to get out of the way.
Connor frowned at the action, "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, you're doing great. Keep going. And what was that about synonyms?"
The boy's frown deepened. "They should hardly be considered synonyms. There's too much variation to each action. It makes things confusing. If I hadn't been able to find the visual examples-"
"And how does that work anyway?"
Connor blinked. "How does what work?"
"You've got a search engine in your head, huh?" Hank stretched his arms out and leaned towards the seat of the bench, letting the wood dig in under his shoulder blades so he could pop his back. "How does that all work?"
"Wait," Connor said. "What was the example?"
And here Hank thought he'd finally side tracked him. "Example?"
The way Connor smiled just then, it was a new one. Almost a smirk. "Of a deviant android's irrational instructions following human logic."
"Oh that."
"Yes that."
"Well, it's simple. The brown haired Traci."
"What about her?"
"She had nothing to do with the murder, did she?"
Connor stopped rubbing Sumo's belly. The dog took it well, rolling back onto his front, he jumped onto the android's shoulders and licked his face.
The LED was rapidly spinning, glowing yellow. But he patted Sumo's head as he stood.
"You okay?"
"I'm reviewing the evidence." Connor stood in place as he reviewed. He blinked rapidly but otherwise was motionless. Then, "You're right!"
He began pacing, "But she attacked me first. Why did she do that? If she'd just stayed still I never would have… we were looking for the blue haired Traci."
"Exactly, she decided to protect the blue one," Hank said. "Which is human logic."
"It is?"
"Yeah, I mean… when a human cares about another human it's not enough to just keep yourself safe. You've gotta," he cleared his throat. "Try, at least. To both get out alive."
Goddammit, he'd start getting choked up if he wasn't careful.
"I need a drink." Hank shook Sumo's leash out to warn him and then started walking. Sumo and Connor both followed obediently. For once.
But he knew the both of them would give him a hard time when it counted.
"Deviants only simulate human emotion," Connor said. "So it stands to reason that they would also simulate human logic."
"And why would they do that?"
"It's a malfun-"
"No. Why would the malfunction, if it really was that, why would it, uh, do that?"
"I'm not sure what you mean, Lieutenant."
"If my computer catches a virus it isn't random," Hank said. "You know where viruses come from? People make them! And they send them out on purpose. To break things, to steal things. When my computer breaks it doesn't suddenly become a TV. It becomes unusable."
They walked the rest of the way back to the house in silence. Because Connor didn't have a response? Or because he was still working on it?
It was always hard to tell.
When he finally spoke again, Connor said, "I would like to take the rest of the day to review my… facts. In light of this new information."
"Uh-"
"So I'll see you tomorrow, Lieutenant."
"Okay-"
"Please arrive to work on time, Lieutenant. I will not be coming here again."
"What, never again?" Hank looked over at Sumo, who was eagerly lapping at his water bowl. "Won't you miss Sumo?"
He tried to look at Connor's hands for a twitch, but the son of a bitch had them clasped behind his back.
"I'm not capable of emotions like that," Connor said, LED a serene blue.
"Bullshit-"
"Lieutenant, you should not confuse deviant androids with their functioning counterparts."
"And how do I know you're not a deviant, huh?"
"I self test regularly," Connor said. "I know what I am and what I am not."
"Fucking bullshit."
"Have a good day, Lieuten-"
"Lieutenant, Lieutenant, Lieutenant!" Hank threw his hands in the air. "I'm getting sick and tired of that word, Connor!"
"It's your rank, sir." He was standing stiffly, with that stupid polite smile plastered on his face, but the LED blinked yellow for a second. It gave him away.
It's like he put up a shield when he noticed himself getting too emotional. He tried to revert back to the basics, to fucking factory mode. Hank wasn't going to let him this time.
He shoved at Connor's shoulder, knocking him out of his military stance. "Calling me sir is even worse."
"What shall I call you, then?"
"How about my fucking name?"
"If that is what you prefer," Connor said. "Have a good day, Anderson."
"God fucking dammit," Hank said. "Call me Hank!"
"Isn't it inappropriate for two colleagues-"
"According to what? Your socializing dictionary?"
"Well, yes, my programming dictates-"
Hank shoved him again, pushing him up against the door he'd been trying to politely make his way towards. "And your programming says you've got to say 'have a good day' before you're allowed to open the door and leave huh?"
"It isn't a requirement, but it is recommended." Connor was no longer smiling. The damn blue color was finally gone. It steadily blinked yellow, but for a second there was some red in there.
"Does red mean you're in danger, Connor? You worried?"
Red, yellow, yellow, yellow. Red, red, red.
Hank backed off. What the hell was he doing?
Fixing his tie and straightening his jacket, Connor did not acknowledge Hank's question. Now his LED was blinking between yellow and blue.
But the blue wouldn't stick.
"I suppose it must be alright," Connor said. "Since I've heard Captain Fowler address you by your first name."
Then, with a smirk, "Have a good day, Hank."
And he let himself out.
For some reason it was the funniest thing Hank had heard all year. He started laughing like a maniac and Sumo came to investigate. "Don't worry!" he huffed. "I'm not broken just yet!"
It was time to get that fucking drink. This time he actually went to the trouble of getting a glass. He held it up and gave a toast.
"To Connor!" Hank said. "And that precious goddamn smirk."
Sumo barked.
"Good boy."
