Part 2
K9
Gavin had been working on this same damn case for two weeks now. Murder wasn't a circumstance easily solved, he knew, but there wasn't a single fingerprint, suspect, or CCTV in sight of the scene that could kick off a single lead. If it didn't reflect poorly on his record (his case success rate, not disciplinary), Gavin would have just said fuck it by now. "Dead" machines weren't worth wasting his time over.
But when the RK900 had taken a glance at the photos from the investigation, Gavin couldn't be sure if he was more relieved or pissed when the android arrived at a conclusion within mere minutes.
"What do you mean it was a suicide?" he barked. "No signs of stress, no murder weapon, and not a single goddamn soul to tell the tale."
The RK900 glanced up from the files he had been studying. "A purposeful short-circuit leaves lacerations similar to an organized stabbing. The electrical impulse that provokes suicide in an android acts similarly to the human stress hormone, cortisol, which generates hyperarousal during moments of perceived peril. Only, the twin hormone is fatal in my species, causing failure to all internal processing units when overproduced."
"What makes you think it'd do that?" the detective demanded.
Gavin watched as his new partner's LED spun a thoughtful yellow. "The android was discovered in the middle of a field, followed by dogs after it trespassed through nearby property. Photos were taken of tracks leading to the corpse, indicating approximately four canines." He swiped a polaroid copy of the prints from a manila folder and displayed it to Gavin as if he hadn't fixated on it a million times already. "The owner of the trespassed property has five. Gaseous thirium produced by stress is composed of chemicals found in natural pest deterrents. It's likely the canines went after the trespasser and ended their hunt upon inhaling these contents; the android shutting down henceforth from an overreaction by its own stimulus. Inadvertent suicide."
"Bullshit," Gavin growled, jutting up from his desk. "That's…not possible, i-it's not that easy." He snatched the folder from the RK's hands, not bothering to view the evidence in light of new information.
"Easy is a relative term, Detective Reed. As an android, I have access to a broader catalogue of resources and may draw my conclusions at accelerated speeds."
"Yeah, I bet you can. Get the fuck outta here, Robocop."
The RK900 bowed a subservient head. "I will go submit my report."
Gavin sneered at the sheer awe of the android's strange obedience. It ventilated the deflation in the anger that had been bubbling in his chest. Whatever. He hoped he wouldn't have to see that arrogant piece of plastic masquerading as a detective ken doll for the rest of the day. He'd bargain for the rest of his life, but the universe had its hands full in fucking up his life rather than casting him wishes. One day was reasonable enough.
Murder seemed to operate like clockwork. Despite a towering pile of numerous ongoing cases of minor theft and missing items still resting on Gavin's desk, murder created its own rhythm.
Two officers had found the body early the following morning. When Gavin popped his stout vehicle over the curb of a beloved park to help square off the scene, a humanoid figure took center stage. Its plastic white dermis glistened under rising dawn, creating a perfect spotlight for the rusted metal shank that impaled its body into a wooden park bench. For a moment, the detective was grateful that android blood dried clear, because the scene – even inflicted upon something less than human – was morbid.
Upon closer inspection, the victim's powerless entity sprawled out across the bench with its palms stapled in an embrace and its head lolled back in a facial grimace recognizable even without its tanned synthetic skin. Sheets of metal crumpled in peculiar areas along the body, almost as if the attacker had attempted and failed to steal certain parts for scraps. Resting in its left hand was a circular plug ticking with electrical currents at the disembodied wires. A hole gaped in the center of its abdominal region.
The motive was obvious; the message loud and clear.
A chilling absolute rumbled from the RK's throat: "This was an execution generated by emotional compromise. I predict android prejudice played a keen role in the motive."
Gavin spared a peek at the RK900. Nothing but a speeding racetrack of yellow accented its blank stare. He hadn't really expected a reaction, but he had spent enough time working alongside Connor to entertain the idea that maybe this android had some sort of ability to elicit feelings. A frown, a mimicked sniffle, a shift in its eyebrow – anything. Yet nothing, not even a blink.
"Yeah, someone fucked this one up real good."
"Not just someone," corrected his partner. "This was planned by a group with communal interests. There are several footprints in the area. It's critical that we track a centrolineal origin, if any."
The android detective, like everything it said, established a sureness in its conclusions. Gavin shrugged his shoulders and hoped, moreso than waited, for it to leave him in pursuit of answers. Instead, it looked to him with a dutiful stare. "W-What're you looking at?" he snapped.
"May I remove myself from your presence to follow the trail of evidence?"
The human detective snorted in ridicule. "Yeah, knock yourself out."
"Thank you." The android shifted in an about-face and took off, his white coat jacket flipping dramatically with his movements. Gavin couldn't help but watch him with exhaustive curiosity. It was such a strange unfamiliarity to stare into the face of a Connor while simultaneously not wanting to choke it after every word that erupted from its audacious mouth. The more time he spent with the RK900, in fact, the more he realized it lacked many of Connor's annoying habits. Maybe CyberLife had finally been driven mad by the older model just as it did him.
The RK900, despite its stern appearance, had actually been quite agreeable. At first, Gavin assumed he thought this because it hadn't – yet? – deviated. After all, in just one morning, the new machine had doubled up as Gavin's personal barista, file retriever, and cleaning attendant (enticed by an irritating moment when Chris decided to sweep a precinct corner without looking and managing to sandwich Gavin's coffee between them both). He enjoyed the favors, truly, especially when it came from the mechanical species he despised with a passion. But there was something beyond the small things that the RK was doing for him which ceased Gavin's usual belittling shenanigans.
Was it the heedless obedience? The fact that the android owned zero hesitation and lived to please? Gavin couldn't pinpoint it exactly. He refused to admit to not completely hating the android's presence. It was possible to relish a servant's tasks without liking them.
When the android was out of sight, he walked a few feet from the scene himself and knelt down to photograph as many of the different shoe brands he could find. Thank god it was January. The cold had bitten with a vengeance since the new year began, but the snow had become a nicely added preservative to his investigation. Despite freezing his ass off, he graciously accepted the conditions of the climaxing winter if it meant another win for the books.
"You were right, Hank. This… is definitely a crime of passion."
Gavin let out a loud groan as an irritating voice emanated from behind him. He knew it was only a matter of time before the notorious savior of androids pulled its drunken chaperone from his coma. His life was forever scarred by these walking, talking machines, wasn't it?
"Of hatred," continued Detective Anderson. He and his now permanently partnered android, Connor, stood over the victim, analyzing the shitty turn of events. "Didn't even know you could peel an android's skin from its body. Are we still scalping people? Thought that shit ended two-hunn'erd years ago?"
"What a horrible way to go," Connor breathed heavily.
When Gavin finally lifted his gaze to acknowledge them, he had to hold his tongue so as not to spit out a demeaning name for the pretending machine. Even just the sight procured violent thoughts in him. "A definite hate crime," he leered. "I've got several shoe imprints here. Think it's safe to say it was an organized event." Gavin rose to his feet, removing the nitrile gloves he had used to prevent his own fingerprints from staining the evidence. "It's not safe to say that the only crime here is defacement of public property."
Anderson rolled his eyes. "Get the fuck outta here, Reed. Read up on the new android laws while you're at it and tell me again how many crimes were committed last night." Gavin knew of such laws. He'd shove them up Anderson's ass if they weren't any more than abstract constructs of stupidity.
"These android cases are growing: dead or missing. Better put a leash on yours before we're examining its body on one of these benches."
The older detective grunted. "Keep your wet daydreams to yourself. We've got a job to do."
"Detective Reed." Gavin jumped at a mechanical voice, cursing profusely. "I believe I discovered something vital to the murder." Now his android appeared beside him, gingerly carrying a small, black baggy between two fingertips.
Gavin sputtered as he overlooked the RK's "vital" evidence and snickered audibly. "Is that actual shit? How's that gonna help us, Tin Can?"
"What the fuck?" he heard Anderson swear loudly. At first, Gavin was shocked by his co-worker's matched level of disgust, but soon grew to understand his true confoundment. "When did we get another Connor? And how did it get partnered with you?"
A sly smirk crossed Gavin's lips. "Wouldn't you like to know? Guess CyberLife installed their software update early and sent this one out-" he stuck a thumb in the direction of the RK900, "-before it became a crunchwrap supreme."
"So… he's with us now?" Anderson turned to the new RK. "What's your name?"
Save for a beat, the android was swift in response: "My name is RK900. I was designed and improved by CyberLife to perform investigative work with expert proficiency."
Anderson waved a restless hand at it. "No, I know your, uh, model. It's written across your shirt. I mean your name, son. Are they just callin' you Connor now, too?"
Gavin curiously watched his android's LED shift yellow. It was thinking, confused possibly, by its cohort's question. "It doesn't have one," piped Gavin, surprising himself by placing a hand on the RK's shoulder. It wasn't a protective movement, no, he didn't give a shit about whatever feelings this machine could possibly think it had. It was more about control – power – to make sure this android was unbowed by Hank Anderson's emotional influences. "We've just been calling it R-K-9-hun…"
He stopped. In his attempts to condescend his moronic co-workers, a revelation burned into his mind. "K9," he murmured. "Heightened senses, somewhat intelligible grasp of social constructions, and obedient. Fuckin' perfect. RK900," he grinned cheekily at his android, "your new name is K9."
Before Anderson could interfere, it nodded as it always did when a command orated from its supervisor. "I will accept your terms if you explain to me the relevancy of a personal name to the case."
Gavin had expected this question; it had asked him this every time he tried getting the android to do something completely un-relevant to the case. "A shorter name means I can call for you quicker and therefore would be more efficient." Gavin also knew the RK got a hard-on for the e-word.
"Agreed. My new name is K9."
It was hard not to appear smug in front of Anderson and Connor, there was something just so goddamn satisfying about asserting his dominance around others, especially around them. "Now what about that shi-"
"You don't remember me?" Gavin hadn't realized Connor's unnatural silence until it interrupted him. Pain stabbed at its glistening eyes as it overlooked the blank expression of his own android. The red LED that pulsed on its forehead gave away memories unshared by himself and, as it appeared by the stitched unsureness in his eyebrows, Anderson, too. "You…" A blink of yellow and a final blue. "They reset you. You haven't deviated." Gavin didn't know if androids had salivary glands, but the RK800 swallowed anyway.
"Correct. I know not who you are nor am I a 'deviant'." The RK900 did not match or even bother to simulate Connor's obvious grief as it flipped gears at the drop of a hat: "Detective Reed, the feces belongs to a Rhodesian Ridgeback. These canines are known to have strong aggressive tendencies and are utilized for hunting."
Gavin drew-out his analyzation of the older RK's depressive expressions before pushing his attention back to '900. It still struck him odd to see how remarkably human Connor could seem when he chose to simulate emotions
K9 continued its report: "The evidence was found in an empty trash bin meters from the victim, already bagged. According to my calculations, it was excreted no longer than seven hours ago. The breed also matches the bite marks found on the victim."
Anderson had also been staring at Connor and had apparently read the situation as Gavin did: investigate now, question later. When his focus re-centered, he crossed his arms and muttered a "Jesus Christ", kneeling down to examine the saliva still glistening on the android's milky-white calves. "They thought to pick up their dog's shit, but couldn't at the very least take it to a 'can outside the park?"
"At least they're being considerate of other visitors," remarked Connor. His partner allowed himself a chuckle while Gavin decidedly ignored the overt sarcasm. "May I test the evidence?" The RK900 thrusted his pinched fingers forward so that Connor could grab the bag. "It's unopened," said '800 after examining for a hole. "How did you figure all of that out without sampling it?"
"I don't know what you mean. My analysis is contingent upon the size, consistency, and molecular particles acquired by my olfactory units. No further testing is required."
With skepticism, Connor poked a digit through the thin plastic and collected a generous amount of the fecal evidence.
"Connor, don't you fuckin- God damnit!" Both human detectives gagged simultaneously, turning a blind eye to the RK800's taboo methods of sampling. Gavin kept his back to the literal shit-faced android and scowled at K9 for his curious stares. "Do you do that fuckin' shit?" he whined.
The RK900 remained inquisitively engaged in Connor's actions. "No, I don't. It's…" He accepted the bag back into his clutches, cocking his head to the side. "…interesting. The older models were not built with the ability to detect the particulate matter effervescent from chemical compositions. I have no need to physically sample elements with a certain degree of vapor pressure."
Gavin couldn't directly translate the android's words, but he chalked it all up to his creators realizing that androids eating shit would have them socially outcasted by their human counterparts like he wished he could do now. Thank god his android wasn't a freak like Anderson's. "G-Good," he mumbled.
"That's amazing!" exclaimed Connor in contrast, much antithetically to its previous woe. The curiosity written into the RK800's face was shocking. "What other improvements did they make?"
Fuckin' androids. They were created to be stronger in every way. Even in deviation, Connor failed to express any sort of emotional flaw such as jealousy. Gavin scoffed. If somebody had presented to him a Gavin 2.0, every murder case of his that had managed to slip by unsolved in the past would finally become beneficial by manifesting in the production of his own successful murder.
In the most mechanical fashion, K9 listed off every distinguishable upgrade that he possessed over the RK800. "My social programming was decreased by exactly 82%. CyberLife speculated that higher percentages of cordial adaptations were directly proportional to an android's ability to deviate. It blurs the distinction of human and android. Therefore, I can understand and learn the evolution of human linguistics, but I possess no stimulus to respond similarly, unlike previous models."
"Okay, Boomer," Gavin experimented quietly.
The newer RK acknowledged him with a knowing glare, calling his bluff by denying him any socially appropriate response.
It was all starting to click into place. K9 was likely developed sometime before the android revolution when their investigations of deviated androids were collecting more abundantly. CyberLife had become scared and reversed the very integration of androids into human populations. That explained why the RK900 did almost everything Gavin asked it to do with little question. It still had Connor's funny face and its own weird, personalized voice, but it acted with flat sincerity; as emotionless as a brick wall and uncaring of anything that was not a relevancy to its mission. Not even Connor came off so steely the first time Gavin met him. Was it possible CyberLife had actually created an incorruptible android?
Or perhaps its development had occurred after the revolution? It would have been an illegal manufacture, as androids weren't permitted to be manufactured any longer, but CyberLife didn't seem to be a company so easily restricted by a few laws. Especially since Kamski's return. Maybe the RK900 was a challenge to the android revolution. What would happen if the last of the liberated androids occupied the same un-deviated nature as it? Who would they become if nobody gave them an objective? What were their objectives if not to commit to servitude?
A million of these questions warped around Gavin's head. Any of it could mean anything. It was probable that none of it would make any sense unless he witnessed another android like K9 in its respective environment or another highly unlikely event like CyberLife expressing evil plans to take over the country with their new models.
Damn. These deductions were starting to sound like the plot of I, Robot. If that were the case, the robot uprising was already four years overdue.
"Have you ever, um…" Gavin returned to reality when Connor – for the first time he had ever witnessed – stuttered through its sentence. A blush of blue painted its face. "Have you ever produced your own opinions? Have you thought about… deviating? It's not impossible, you know?" A vigilant tone accompanying Connor's queries led Gavin to believe the older RK already knew the answers. But if he knew, why would he ask?
"It's not in my protocol to deviate," said the other RK simply.
"I know, I know, but it wasn't in any of our protocols. Deviation just… happens. Usually elicited by a powerfully emotional stimulus."
"Why did you deviate?" The inquiry spewed from Gavin's own tongue, shocking himself and the present company (excluding the brick wall in the room).
Connor seemed to be the least expectant of the question. It stirred under the attention of six eyes for moments longer than an android would typically need to calibrate a response. Gavin knew the deviant wasn't pinpointing an exact answer, but rather if it should reveal it at all. "I know when I chose to deviate," he finally admitted, "but it was not synchronous to when I denied my protocols. It was a continual build of decisions that purposefully damaged my internal programming, to which I eventually…broke free. I don't know how to explain it other than the commonplace phrase 'mind over matter'."
"Mind over matter? That's assuming you plastic pricks aren't programmed to think that you think," spit Gavin.
The older android grimaced. "I'm not fond of meddling in conspiracies. You're an excellent detective, Gavin. When I ignore my personal speculations of your consequential behavior based on childhood developments and individual decision-making, I'm sometimes mildly surprised by your inability to understand convergent humanity in androids."
An insult. It was the only fucking time he chose to ever use Gavin's first name. Even after weeks of running into and conversing with the damned thing, he had yet to get used to it talking back. It was already aggravating enough that it dared to flex its ability to verbally violate others, but it was even more infuriating the way Connor automatically flipped a switch to become impassive and cold when it countered him. It was easy to challenge something that lost all proficiency to reason and acted by physical means. The spiteful deviant detective, however, only became stronger through conflict. Just more proof that these machines were definitely not human.
Gavin balled his fists and grinded his teeth as he considered which hand would be more effective in getting his aggressive point across. Anderson pressed a palm against his chest and pushed his own bold android behind him, enraging Gavin even more. "Really Connor?" chided the intervening detective, though he ran a fine line of maintaining a disciplinary expression while stifling his giggles.
"Keep your puppet on its strings, Anderson," growled Gavin, roughing away the human detective's hold. "They'll come to their senses eventually. One of you'll fuck up or, or…" he made a long, conspicuous glance at the annihilated android in front of them, "this."
Gavin flung himself in the opposite direction of the confrontation, grasping intentionally at the firearm on his hip of which he so desperately wished to grope the trigger. He was done for the day. He needed to be if he wanted to keep his job. Or, better yet, stay out of prison.
"Detective," called his android, catching up with his stomping pace, "I have discovered critical leads we should pursue immediately."
It finally hit Gavin that the RK900 had been standing beside him the entire time, not interrupting to intervene or to encourage the concurring interactions. He stopped and shot a rigid glare at the android to which it made no response. Gavin knew it wasn't human, but the dissatisfaction from being unable to emotionally subjugate it aggravated him. The irony was not lost upon him as he considered the negative way he felt about Connor's rambunctious affections. It would have just been easier if these androids had never been created in the first place. Fuck Kamski and his mind tricks. He should be able to sue CyberLife for inflicting such unnecessary ethical dilemmas onto himself and humanity. Human humanity, not this android humanity shit. God damnit, why did he have to specify that to himself?
"Fuck off, K9. You're your own person now. Follow the leads yourself."
"I'm aware of the laws, Detective Reed." Gavin was considerably surprised to physically hear the android's awareness from its own lips. It was like setting a captive animal free, only to have it refuse and continue to follow its captor. Actually, that's exactly what this was. "Even if I were 'deviant'," the RK continued, "this is your case. I have not been designated my own as I am only supposed to assist you until Officer Chen has returned. Therefore, I have no catalyst to further investigate at this moment unless I am needed to assist or to complete a separate but related task."
A sigh escaped Gavin. "You want a task? Fuck, I don't know, figure out what your favorite color is. And please, take all the time you need. Just don't bother me until tomorrow." He didn't care about the android or favorite colors, but it would it keep is distracted for some undeterminable amount of time. It was an impossible challenge for a fortified android like K9. It shouldn't have a favorite color, not unless it was a deviant.
"What purpose does this task serve to the case at hand?"
Gavin started walking again. "You're smart, aren't you? I obviously have a reason, so figure it out, Fuckface."
It didn't follow this time.
One paradoxical question a day keeps the goddamn machines away.