The coffee in my hands is cold now. If I did drink it, I doubt I'd taste it. Like the water cooler at the back of the break room, the vending machine, the small circular standing tables; I'm just another thing here.

I've never felt very human before, but I can usually fashion something of spare parts, parade around them like I belong -but right now, I don't think I can manage it. Connor finds me at ten o'clock with the same coffee I brewed four hours ago. I don't even look at it, but I recognise the unusual straightness of its posture.

"You didn't leave the station last night."

It isn't a question, but I shake my head anyway.

"Is there something wrong?"

I stare at my reflection in the black coffee. It's quite the phenomenon, because a stranger stares back. "I was working," I mumble. "The android we apprehended...destroyed itself in its cell. I salvaged what I could."

Connor is silent for long enough to warrant me lifting my gaze. "Your work-ethic is admirable," it says after a moment. "But it could've waited until morning."

"I can't spare the hours."

It furrows its brows at my cryptic response. "Can I...get you something to eat-"

-but before it can finish its sentence, a brazen voice from the doorway interrupts us both. "Fuck, look at that... Our friend the plastic detective is back in town!" Gavin Reed walks into the room with his arms folded against his chest. "Congratulations on last night you two." He claps sarcastically. "Very impressive. I'm sure you found some way to celebrate."

I promptly turn away and take a sip of ice-cold coffee to keep my mouth from betraying me.

Unfortunately, Connor isn't as rude as I am and he turns to greet him. "Hello, Detective Reed." Its voice is light and friendly.

Reed ignores it and makes his way over to my table instead. I press my forearms against the tabletop and chew the shit out of the inside of my cheek.

"Hey," he says.

I finish my coffee and slowly lower the paper cup.

"Hey, I'm talkin' to you."

"Yeah, you are." I look at him with a scowl, which only makes him grin back at me like he enjoys it.

"I read your, uh, resume last night. You've been quite a bad girl." He reaches over the table and touches my cheek, I quickly tear myself out of reach.

"If you touch me again-"

"-You'll what?" he asks with his brows lifted indignantly. "You'll rob me? You'll, uh, hack my accounts?"

I clutch the paper cup so tightly, tearing holes with my nails. "You think treating people like this will grow you a dick. But it wont."

He lunges but I retreat at the same time so he's left with handfuls of air. "When this is over." he points at me.. "I'll be the one to take you in. I'll make your life a nightmare...You and your plastic toy." He seems to remember that Connor's still here, he moves around the table and approaches it with his thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his jeans. "Never seen an android like you before. What model are you?"

"RK800. I'm a prototype," it replies.

"A prototype?" he echoes. "Android detective... So machines are gonna replace us all, is that it?"

Connor doesn't answer.

"Hey." Reed shoves his shoulder. "Bring me a coffee, dipshit!"

I will Connor not to comply, to do something bold and insolent instead to slap the grin right off this fuckers face. It would fix everything. But it's a machine, programmed to obey orders.

"I'm sorry," Connor says politely. "But I only take orders from Lieutenant Anderson."

We're both stunned silent. I fight a smile, but I only end up losing.

Reed leers over Connor, but he's nearly half a head shorter so it looks slightly comical instead. "If Hank hadn't got in the way yesterday, I would've fucked you up for disobeying a human." He shoves it again, hard enough to make it stumble. "Stay outta my way, 'cause next time... you won't get off so easy."

He leaves, and my smile quickly follows suit to make room for another weary sigh. "I miss being a criminal," I murmur.

Connor tilts its head at me in confusion. Something it does a lot, I can't imagine what benefit a little quirk has to achieving its goal. It must be equipped with a social module, specially developed to be integrated into any team. The perfect partner for human investigators. I'm slightly jealous, I've never been a perfect anything, not even close.

"I miss being feared," I say, almost entirely to myself. "I miss being respected. Not treated like...like a thing."

"Is that a common occurrence?"

"More than anyone knows." I exhale through my nose and close my eyes. "People think the invention of androids brought out the worst in humans but...but we've been awful long before that."

"Detective Reed does seem unusually hostile towards you," Connor muses. "You think it's because you are a girl?"

"I can't imagine being a girl and an android," I agree gravely.

"There are no girl androids, only machines with differing outward appearances."

I open my mouth to argue but I catch myself not a second too soon. "No," I say, stunned that I got so close. "I mean an android that looks like a girl."

Connor glances at the doorway. "We should wait by Lieutenant Anderson's desk until he arrives. I arrived early to question the deviant, but unfortunately that won't be possible."

"Sure." I collect my empty coffee cup from the table. Connor glances at it in my hands.

"Would you like another coffee?" it asks.

I frown slightly. "I thought you only took orders from Lieutenant Anderson."

"You didn't make an order."

"No," I realise. "I...of course not. I'm fine, thanks."

Was it a friendly offer? Connor is programmed to maintain friendly relationships with all of it's coworkers, but I didn't expect it to apply to me. I'm less of a coworker, more of an action project, a rescue dog. I walk side-by-side with Connor through the break room into the main area of the precinct. The main area is a large open space with rows of sleek grey desks on polished black floors, and tall windows filling the space with natural light.

It's not so abhorrent over daytime.

On the way we bump into Officer Miller, who recognises me with a cheery smile. "Sam. Good to see you again. I heard you pulled an all-nighter in the lab." When he shifts to Connor, his smile turns a little perplexed. "You still here? I thought your assignment was over."

"It's just been extended."

Chris chuckles and shakes his head. "Hank's gonna be overjoyed to hear that."

They should program these things with sarcasm-detectors Connor keeps misinterpreting it as genuine appreciation and it's a sick joke. "I'm looking for Lieutenant Anderson's desk."

Chris points behind us. "Back wall," he says. "In the middle. But if we're lucky, we'll see him before noon."

Connor nods at him in thanks and walks forward, when Chris stops it with a light tap on the shoulder. "You were right about that android," he adds in a hushed tone. "We found it this morning, permanently deactivated. I guess the stress was too much for it."

"Deactivated?" Connor repeats. "I thought it self-destructed."

"What's the difference?"

From the corner of my eye, Connor glances at me accusingly. But it has no proof, and we both know it. We leave Officer Chris for Anderson's desk, which also happens to be the messiest desk in this whole precinct. Mugs crusted over in dried black coffee, empty doughnut boxes, flyers and report files scattered all over the place, it's like my shop after a bad weekend.

Connor stands over the desk for a moment, moving its gaze over every item and cataloguing. It takes a pair of headphones and holds it to its ear to a muffled rock song.

Hank's note board doesn't have a single note on it, but a dozen bumper stickers with zany phrases like

We don't bleed the same colour

If I wanted to be ignored, I'd talk to my ex-wife

Anti-android slogans, old generation digs at an ex-wife; non-specific and fueled with so much petty hate. At this stage, anti-android sentiment isn't classified a hate-crime, but the stripey blue and orange monstrosity that he walks in wearing should be.

Monochromatic is the norm. Even the Connor android has been designed with certain stylistic choices, a semi-formal uniform consisting of a grey suit jacket, white shirt and dark tie, and dark jeans. The jacket carries all the common identifiers for androids, including a blue armband on the right arm, the Cyberlife triangle on the left side and Connor's model and serial number on the right.

It's rare for androids to wear comparatively human attire, but the RK800 has been designed to be assimilated with human investigators.

But no android on planet earth should be designed to assimilate to Lieutenant Hank Anderson's stylistic choices, it would be breaking hundreds of android-laws to create such an abomination.

"It's good to see you again, Lieutenant."

Hank stops dead in his tracks with a coffee in one hand. "Uh, Jesus," he utters. "You're both here." He puts his things on the desk and nudges my arm. "We got chairs here for a reason."

I stay seated on the edge of his desk. "That's what you wear to work?" I ask alternatively.

He stares at me. "Don't give me shit this morning."

"Almost afternoon."

He opens his mouth to argue, but is interrupted when the office at the back of the precinct, a large glass room with an impressively wide desk, opens with a bang and a gruff-looking man in a light blue shirt steps out.

"Hank!" he calls. "In my office!"

Hank swears under his breath and pushes himself out of his chair. I have no intention of following him, but Connor does, looking a lot like a loyal pet dog.

If I was an android, I'd choose self-destruction over that too.

The door to the office closes and I crane my neck to make sure both Hank and Connor are properly distracted, before hopping from the desk and sinking into Hank's office chair.

I tap the virtual keyboard to wake it up, the screen blares the message 'enter password to access files'. I activate my glove and place it against the keyboard again. I install a quick program to access the computer logs for the most commonly used four-letter word. Cole, for some reason. The program enters the password, and the computer unlocks a second later.

The archives first -arrest records and incident reports for a single person.

"Dean Marks?" My heart leaps into my throat and I choke on it. I spin around quickly to find Chris standing behind me with his hat in his hand. "You, uh-" He gestures his hat at the computer screen. "Doing some research for the investigation."

I thank every god I can think of that it was Chris who walked in on me.

"Yeah," I say. "Just...getting some information."

But my luck runs out -Chris nods and reaches for the other chair. I scream internally as he slides it beside me and joins me at the screen. "You think he has something to do with these androids?"

I press my lips together.

"Y'know that he was apparently some kinda genius?" Chris provides helpfully. "Rumours are that he had a big hand in Cyberlife starting out."

"Really?" I ask in a quiet voice.

"Yup, professor at a tech school, decided to try his hand at designing an android-"

I find a link to an article.

Anonymous tip leads to arrest of ex-college professor.

"-the police found him at home with boxes of stolen equipment from the college, took him in for theft."

I scroll by quickly. But Chris keeps talking. "I actually found him," he says with his voice lowering. "I had the night shift ten years ago, it was my first day of guard duty and I-"

I stand suddenly.

Chris looks up at me in concern. "I'm sorry...did you know him?"

I don't blink. "Never met him."

Chris searches my face like he knows I'm lying but he doesn't know why. "I always felt sorry for him," he continues gently. "Even when he was brought in. His daughter was in an accident a few months prior, and I think he lost his mind."

I'm about to leave, and I wish I could, but I still need something from him; I have work to do, and I can't spare the hours. I sit again and deactivate the terminal. Chris doesn't leave either.

"Can I ask for favour?"

"With the case?"

"Do you know if there's a process control room here?" I ask. "Where the main server is located?"

Chris blinks in confusion.

"Uh, big computers everywhere," I provide with my hands splayed. "Wires, and blinky lights."

It dawns on him and his eyes widen in understanding. "Yeah." He nods slowly. "Control room, I've been there."

"Where is it?"

He pauses again but this time it's not from ignorance -his dark eyes cloud over in distrust. "I'm...not sure I should divulge that information," he says in a soft, apologetic voice.

I have to think fast.

"When I upload my data, the distance between my computer and the server increases the wait time," I say this quickly, pushing my words together into one incomprehensible string of bullshit. "But if I was working near the control room, even, like, a floor above, It'd make the process much more efficient."

"You...only need to be nearby?"

"Only nearby,' I confirm.

Chris mulls it over for a while.

"The sooner we get this investigation over with, the sooner Hank can get back to his happy life here," I remind him.

I hope they're friends, I certainly got that vibe last time they were together. The frown on Chris' face eventually smooths over to make way for another easy smile and I know I've done it. "It's right there." He gestures to my feet.

"Huh?"

"Below you," he says. "One floor down, exactly where you are now."

"No shit," I utter. "So I don't even have to move?"

"Not even a little."

I mirror his smile again, but this time I almost mean it. I like Chris, he reminds me of Jack a little -if Jack drank coffee and cream instead of whisky. But he's a cop, I can't forget that. I clear my throat and nod my smile away. "Great, thanks."

Chris looks up suddenly at the captain's office and at Hank and Connor beyond. "Poor Hank," he murmurs. "This can't be easy for him."

Connor's standing by the door with its hands politely held behind it's back, and Hank is yelling something at his captain and throwing glares at it like it really is just a broken computer.

"Cyberlife sent a prototype android to help the investigation," I think aloud. "Special functions, an android detective worth a small fortune."

"The hell does that mean."

"It should be obvious." I look at Chris seriously. "Cyberlife's desperate."

To stop the deviants...or to follow their trail to find something else. Could they be searching for the same thing I am? Connor seems entirely harmless. Good at its job, undoubtedly, but also programmed with so many brown-nosing programs, like its plan is to be super polite to everyone in the hopes that no one rips it apart. It's a defect we don't share. I've been ripped apart more times than I can count, at this point, I can take it without even flinching.

"Marks, a word?"

Both Hank and Connor have left the Captain's office, but the Captain is at his door again this time calling out to me. I pass Hank on the way, who shoots me a grin, "your turn."

I enter the office and pull the glass door closed behind me. I scan the bronze name plate on the desk, Captain Jeffrey Fowler. Fowler tears his eyes away from the screen. "I had my concerns about letting you join the investigation," he starts in a gruff voice. "You understand, with your history."

"Yes sir," I reply drily.

"And you should know, Sam, that if you do anything Hank doesn't like, he's authorised to bring you in, lock you behind bars for the rest of your miserable life."

"Yes sir."

Fowler narrows his beady eyes, he doesn't like the tone of my voice, or lack of tone. "I heard you've made yourself somewhat useful," he says. "Stopped a deviant from running free. Hank said you were surprisingly resourceful."

I can't help but chuckle, imagining Hank saying 'Sam's surprisingly resourceful', I'd sooner see pigs fly.

"The Ghost." Fowler leans back in his chair and surveys me, tapping the end of an elegant gilded pen against his chest. "I had some eyes out for you, never got a whiff. But Cyberlife sends an android and it brings you in the same night?" He stops and exhales a sarcastic laugh. "You got sloppy."

I clench my hands, driving my nails into my palms and cutting the skin.

He sits forwards suddenly. "I know who your father is, I know what he did to you-"

"He didn't do anything."

"-which is why I'm offering you this second-chance," he finishes without so much as a blink, disregarding my comment entirely. "Don't fuck it up."

I narrow my eyes. "I'll get it done," I assure him.

The corner of his mouth twitches. "You think you're good?" he asks slowly. "Think the world is your personal playground?"

I frown slightly. I have no idea where he's going with this. Yes?

"If you hack my systems again, I'll throw you in a cell before you can blink."

Oh. And I smile. "I can help you with your security," I offer politely. "Right now, a child could hack it."

"Okay," he agrees. "We'll get it reinstalled, and you'll be the first test."

"Yes sir." And this time I almost mean it. He waves me out, I push the door open but he stops me again-

"Make sure they don't kill each other," he mutters, pointing his pen in the general direction of Hank's desk. "If that android is destroyed, the deal's off."

I nod one more time before leaving. When I return to the desk, Hank has brought a second chair from a nearby table and set it next to the other across from his. "Lemme guess," Hank mutters without looking at me. "Jeffrey told ya to keep an eye on me?"

"He told me to make sure you don't kill each other."

"Jury's out on that." He glares daggers at Connor.

"I get the impression my presence causes you some inconvenience, Lieutenant. I'd like you to know I'm very sorry about that."

Hank drops his pen and leans back in his chair, daring Connor to utter another word.

It smiles, almost sweetly. "Now that we're all working together, it would be great to get to know each other better."

Hank grabs the edges of his desk. I put my hand on my forehead. It'll be destroyed before the day ends.

"You have a dog, right?"

"How do you know that?" Hank demands suspiciously.

Connor gestures to his chair. "The dog hairs on your chair. I like dogs. What's your dog's name?"

"What's it to you?"

It's ironic Connor's such a dog-fan, when it almost resembles and acts like a loyal dog itself. A chocolate Labrador, trusting and enthusiastic, and ever so slightly empty-headed.

"Sumo," he mumbles after a moment. "I call him Sumo."

"Dogs don't like me," I say.

Hank angrily types away at his computer looking suspiciously like he's smashing random keys. "Dogs read your energy," he utters. "They can smell bad voodoo a mile away."

"Dogs don't like me either," Connor assures me, I assume so I don't feel left out. "Because I look human, but I don't smell human. They have a fantastic sense of smell."

"You like them even when they don't like you?" I ask, barely containing a smile.

Connor looks at me, absolutely glowing in positivity. "Perhaps, given time, they'll grow to like me."

"Doubt that," Hank counters. "Dogs are smarter than you think."

Connor processes its next words carefully with a great deal of blinking of its LED. "A lot of people don't appreciate having androids around. I was wondering.." It tilts its head in earnest. "Is there any reason in particular you despise me?"

"Yeah," he utters. "There is one."

Connor and I sit in wait for a moment but the Lieutenant fails to elaborate. He doesn't seem the sharing and caring kind of guy.

"If you have any files on deviants, I'd like to take a look at them."

"Terminal's on your desk." Hank points. "Knock yourself out."

Connor turns to the display and scrolls through the list of reports at lightening speeds, far too quickly for them to be anything but blurs of words and perfect android faces. "243 files." it thinks aloud. "The first dates back nine months... It all started in Detroit... And quickly spread across the country."

"Detroit is the android capital of the world," I agree. "If it was gonna start anywhere. We need to investigate natural occurrences; the more readings I can get, the better."

Hank nods, and proceeds to push himself from the desk and get to his feet. "Alright," he announces. "I've just about hit my bullshit quota for the day. Time for lunch."

But Connor still tries, bless its little plastic heart. "An AX400 is reported to have assaulted a man last night," it tells Hank. "That could be a good starting point for our investigation."

Hank chuckles darkly. "Our investigation?"

Connor slowly gets to its feet. "I understand you're facing personal issues, Lieutenant-"

And the sirens go off.

"-but you need to move past them... and-"

It doesn't even surprise me when Hank advances on it. "Hey! Don't talk to me like you know me. I'm not your friend and I don't need your advice, okay? Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go on my lunch break."

Connor doesn't blink. "I've been assigned this mission, Lieutenant. I didn't come here to wait until you feel like working."

Hank snaps. He seizes the font of Connor's jacket and shoves it back against the wall to the glaring yellow warning of its LED. "Listen, asshole," he spits. "If it was up to me, I'd throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it. So, stop pissing me off... or things are gonna get nasty."

"Lieutenant?" Officer Chris clears his throat, once again holding a tablet in one hand and calm professionalism in the other. "Uh...sorry to disturb you. I have some information on the AX400 that attacked the guy last night. It's been seen in the Ravendale district.

He let's Connor go, stomps past Chris like a child throwing a tantrum. "I'm on it."

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