November 7th, 2038
AM 10:46:12
Keyboard clicks chimed under your fingers as they choreographed a dancing cursor. You ignored the red, squiggling lines and the blue, paired bars as your words took to the screen. You were struggling enough to keep up with your thoughts. Editing would come later.
You'd been at it for hours. Frantically recording what you and Connor had pieced together – a report that just might prove you were coherent enough to go back to work. A last-ditch effort to get Fowler to change his mind about your suspension.
You stopped.
You recalled your hesitation to pull the trigger. Not in regret, obviously – shooting Connor would have been devastating. But the flashbacks that'd occurred beforehand…
You'd seen a few officers fall victim to early-warning signs of PTSD, but as time went on, they got worse. They'd ignored the patterns, the advice of their friends; and left untreated, they became mentally unstable or exhibited suicidal tendencies.
You huffed under your breath.
You didn't take the shot because it was Connor, the most naïve Detective in Detroit. You wouldn't freeze up like that in a real firefight.
No, you were fine.
"There," Connor clapped his hands, standing across the living room, "All done."
You turned in your seat, finding a restored bookcase filled to the brim with your prized possessions.
He looked over his shoulder, "In alphabetical order, of course."
"Thanks." The corner of your mouth pulled into a grin, "You didn't have to-"
You jumped as a knock came at your door. Your brows creased, staring it down. Connor's eyes narrowed, his face locked on target.
You sighed, your arm flexing as you began to push yourself up.
Connor held out a hand, and you halted, "I'll get it."
You cocked your head, lowering back into your seat.
"Know something I don't?"
"No…" He looked as if he, too, was untrusting as he navigated around the couches on either side of the coffee table, "You need to limit your physical activity."
He pressed his hands against the door, peering through the peephole.
"It is a delivery android…have you ordered something recently?"
"No, I haven't." You took a sip of your freshly-brewed coffee, chuckling into the rising steam, "You're awfully suspicious today, aren't you?"
"I am suspicious every day. This android could be a deviant."
"Or…someone else sent me something."
"Hmph…Likely story…"
The knob twisted, and he ripped the door open. His arm barred the entrance, his fingers curled around the edge.
"State your business."
You withheld a laugh, leaning to get a better view of the other android.
"Hello. I have a delivery for-" He said your name.
"She has not ordered anything, recently. What is your function?"
"I am a delivery android."
"State your model."
"Model WD500, serial number 335 448 851."
"Hm…" The back of Connor's head dipped, "Very well."
He stepped aside, and you gave a small wave, "It's me."
The android tucked the package under his arm, "I require your signature."
Connor turned back to him, taking a tablet and stylus from his extended reach without asking. He kept an eye on the android as he walked them to you, his neck cranked as he offered you the items.
"It's okay, Connor…" You gripped the stylus, signing your name, "He's not a deviant."
"Mhm…" He squinted harder.
You laughed out loud, giving him the electronic pen and signed tablet. When he returned to your apartment's entrance, he exchanged them for the package.
Connor shut the door immediately. He pressed his palm on the keycard slider, his skin simmering away to reveal a metal core. An electric "click," came after, and he brought you the delivery.
"Thank you."
His interrogation face went away, and he gave you a soft smile, "You're welcome."
You shook the box, lips pursing in confusion as something bounced around inside.
Your phone vibrated, turning in subtle jumps. You set the box on the table.
"Would you like me to open it for you?" He asked, politely.
"Sure, knock yourself out."
"Knock myself…Ah, yes. Lieutenant Anderson has used that expression before."
You smirked, reaching for your phone.
Chris Miller
Today 10:55
Did you get it? I got a text saying it was delivered.
Your mouth twisted, your fingers working out a response on the screen, "Haven't opened it yet. Connor is still here."
Chris Miller
Today 10:56
LOL did he stay the night?! Also, make sure you open it when he's not around.
Chris Miller
Today 10:56
Scratch that. Definitely open it when he's around.
"Yes…I mean, NO…not in that way. I'll explain later…Wait, wtf did you send?"
Chris Miller
Today 10:57
The Apple of Eden. The forbidden fruit. The-
You dropped your phone on the desk, "Connor get away from that-"
The cardboard flaps pulled away. His entire body went rigid. His eyes opened so wide, it was as if they were about to pop out of their sockets.
He looked at you, back to the box, stepped away in an instant, folded his hands behind his back – stared at the wall.
"W-what-" You stuttered, "What is it?!"
"It…IT-" He turned his head away from you, "It appears to be something of a personal nature."
Your chest ached as your heart pounded at its prison, trying to break free. You gulped, pulling it towards you – the box sliding along the shining wood. You took a deep breath; held it, wincing in terror as you peaked over the edge –
Inside, there was a purple, smaller box. A blank, purple, stupid box with a stupid note attached to it.
"Now, when Gavin tells you to go fuck yourself, you can actually go fuck yourself. Kidding.
Say hi to Detective Swoon-Bot for me! You know, when you guys are finished. ; )"
Your phone began to ring with a very specific ringtone, scaring the shit out of you.
"What do we do with the drunken sailor, what do we do with the-"
You grabbed it, mashing it against your face, "Yes, Lieutenant Anderson?"
Connor perked up, his head spinning towards you, excited.
"Where the fuck is Connor?"
His smile retracted into horror.
"He's, uh…He's here. You know, looking out for me. Not like I can really move around."
"Funny," He huffed, "I didn't think Detective-android-prototypes were fuckin' babysitters. Put 'im on the phone!"
You pulled it away from your ear, cringing as his shout boomed through the speaker. You passed it to Connor, who lifted it to his mouth.
"Hello, Lieutenant Anderson."
His neck snaked back, his eyes closing as the rest of him jumped.
"Yes, I understand. I'll be there shortly…Lieutenant? Hello?" He looked at the screen, "Huh…I suppose he was finished."
"What did he say?"
"I'd…rather not repeat it." He closed the phone, carefully placing it on the desk, "I have orders to report to the police station immediately."
He looked around, spotting his shoes tucked neatly at the base of the couch. He walked over to retrieve them, and they dangled from his fingertips as he rounded the armrest to take a seat.
"It appears that Lieutenant Anderson's time of arrival varies even more greatly than I suspected." He bent over, rustling at his feet, "Perhaps I should have listened to you."
"Hah…" You shrugged, "I'm not exactly a role model when it comes to doing what I'm told."
Connor stood, his steps leaving faint clicks on the floor as he pulled his jacket from a rack, "I do question your ability to follow orders."
"Excuse me?"
"At the bridge, you pursued Kara and Alice…" He gave you a grin, sliding his arms into his grey sleeves, "…Despite Captain Fowler ordering that you go home and relax."
"Yeah, and look at me now…" You leaned back in your chair, "While you go off to save the world, I'll be here…waiting…relaxing…"
You drummed your fingers on your desk, peaking at him from the corner of your eye.
He secured the opening of his suit-jacket and renegade buttons on his shirt, rolling his shoulders into place and straightening the collar around his neck. He slid his cuffs down to his wrists one at a time, and straightened his tie. He smoothed his hair, looking at his reflection in your glass wall.
"I'd very much like to visit again."
Your head turned, and he put his hands in his pockets as he approached you.
"You're always welcome here, Connor. Even if…"
You stopped, swallowing the words.
"Even if?"
"Nothing."
"Is there something you'd like to discuss?"
"Uhm…" Your fingers clawed at the bottom of your seat, "Where exactly do you go, when you're not…working?"
"If I'm not reviewing cases, I stand at the android rack with the rest of DCPD's units." He answered with a bleak voice, "It can be quite understimulating."
"You could always…you know, come here, instead…"
His head traded spots, swaying back and forth, "But what if you're not present?"
"I don't need to be. You obviously know how to let yourself in." You chuckled, lifting your chin to face him, "I can add you to the guest list at the front desk. Think of it…like your own little nest."
He blinked hard, his eyelids shuddering before going back to normal, "A nest. As in, for birds?"
"Yeah, like for birds. Just…" You crossed your arms, "Don't go letting 'dozens of pigeons,' in here. I'll be very upset with you."
"No pigeons," He smiled, the tips of two fingers cocking towards you after tapping his forehead, "Got it!"
He turned to leave, the white letters spelling "ANDROID" shifting between his shoulders. He unlocked the door with his touch, pulling the door open.
"Oh, and Connor?"
He paused, turning to you, "Yes?"
"You're not gonna…Uhm…'Reset your system,' are you?"
He lit your stomach ablaze with a dazzling smile.
"'Alas, only birds strayed and fatigued by flight, now let themselves be captured with our hand.'"
Another Nietzsche quote. One that smelted your iron resolve, soldering you in place.
"…I'll take that as a 'no.''
A/N: Hey everyone! Bit of a short one here, but I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you all for everything!
