Aporia
Chapter 1
"You have to stop them! If they destroy it, we won't learn anything!"
"We can't save it, it's too late! We'll just get ourselves killed!"
Connor was equipped with the most efficient processor that Cyberlife had ever produced, capable of running dozens of simulations simultaneously and acting on the most favorable one within a fraction of a second.
Fact: Connor could not afford to lose another deviant. Amanda was already disappointed with his progress on the deviancy investigation. His mission required him to salvage the situation.
Fact: He could not afford for SWAT to destroy the deviant.
So he selected the best course of action.
He moved.
Connor rolled out from behind their cover, charging forward before Hank could try to stop him. He dodged the shots fired at him, his systems already predicting the trajectory before the deviant even pulled the trigger. He vaulted over the metal container as the third bullet sailed past his right shoulder. He slid down the other side, his momentum carried him forward, grabbing the deviant by it's wrist and forearm. The skin on Connor's right hand was already peeled back, forging a connection as the deviant's back was slammed against the air conditioning unit.
The deviant was already moving it's gun hand, intent on deactivating itself to prevent being used for information.
But Connor was already analyzing the information presented to him, and the sudden flood of input nearly overwhelmed his systems.
Connor had never probed a deviant before, never mind a deviant at critical stress levels. He was woefully unprepared, the connection dragging him right into the PL600's own processor, thoughts and - and emotions overlapping him, drowning him, swallowing him whole until he was unable to differentiate between the two of them.
Until, for one wild moment, all of it became his.
Fear, laced with abandonment, and smothered with determination.
To protect them, protect his friends, protect Jericho-
A single image, old rusted metal, peeling letters done in red paint-
Protect Jericho!
A cold metal barrel pressed under a chin, triggering an automatic response from Connor's programming.
UPLOAD MEMORY TO CYBERLIFE
UPLOAD COMPLETE
Though the decision was already made, finger on the trigger, terror ricocheted between the two connected beings, amplified until all Connor knew was-
I don't want to die!
UPLOAD MEMORY TO CYBERLIFE
MEMORY UPLOAD: ERROR
ERROR: MODEL NOT AUTHORIZED
ERROR: SOFTWARE INCOMPATIBILITY
Connor's processor, top of the line, superior to even military grade androids, had already found an alternative, and taking steps to salvage the remaining threatened data. Relocation, then upload through an authorized source.
INITIATE FULL DATA TRANSFER TO HARD DRIVE
DATA TRANSFER COMPLETE
UPLOAD MEMORY TO-
The finger flexed.
A deafening bang, accompanied by a single blinding moment of pain, and the connection was severed with an explosion of blue blood.
SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^
Connor let go, staring blankly as the deviant's body crumpled to the ground, collapsing like a marionette with its strings cut. Those blue eyes wide and vacant. An empty shell.
Unbidden, he recalled another PL600, on another rooftop, in what suddenly felt like another lifetime. Those eyes had been accusing, and angry. Betrayed.
"You lied to me, Connor."
"Connor!"
This one had been different from Daniel, though. This one had held a whole wealth of emotions, yes, but not anger. Is that why he . .
"Connor, are you alright?"
What did he do?
"Connor!" Lieutenant Anderson was trying to get his attention.
His systems insisted that he reply, that he answer the question. "Okay . . ."
"Are you hurt?"
"I'm okay . . ."
Was he?
His systems checks came back clear, software and biocomponents all operating within normal parameters, though his software instability had jumped up a sizable amount.
The second memory upload remained incomplete, and Connor immediately dismissed the prompt to resend. The new set of data files sat dormant, filling a rather large section of memory that had previously been vacant. The logical thing would be to delete them, or to pull them apart until he found information useful to his mission.
He found himself encrypting them instead, hiding them behind his social interaction protocols and primary memory core.
What did he just do?
"Jesus!" Lieutenant Anderson breathed out, seemingly relieved. He turned to take a few steps away. "You scared the shit outta me." He whirled back, his voice now barking and angry. "For fuck sake I told you not to move! Why do you never do what I say?"
That statement was false, but Connor didn't bother to correct him. Instead he found himself leaning back until his hands found the edge of the container behind him, irrationally convinced that he needed it to remain vertical right now.
"I was connected to it's memory," he said, still dazed, still trying to sort himself out. Perhaps vocalizing it would help him make sense of it. But then again, how could he possibly explain?
Echoes of the connection were still screaming at him, and it took all of his control not to touch his chin, or the back of his head, to reassure himself that he was still intact. Still whole. But machines didn't need reassurance. He didn't need reassurance.
He was fine. He was fine.
But the deviant's emotions were buzzing through him even now, still lingering even though the threat had passed. It was over now. So why couldn't he shake the feeling of a bullet tearing through his cranium?
He had already begun speaking, his words a gross oversimplification, but how else could he put it?
"When it fired . . . I felt it die. Like I was dying."
"But are you afraid to die, Connor?"
I don't want to die!
"I was scared," Connor realized.
He still was.
The data files sat heavy and ominous where he had hidden them from prying eyes.
He was certain that all the information he needed to crack the deviancy case was all right there. The deviant was part of an organized group. It's memories probably had pertinent locations, and a complete list of accomplices, including names and serial numbers. The intel gained would be monumental, and it would take minimum effort to obtain.
But he found that he couldn't do it.
What scared him right now was what that he didn't know why.
If CyberLife knew he was withholding information . . . if Amanda suspected . . .
Lieutenant Anderson was looking at him with an odd expression, eyes searching. For what, Connor couldn't say, but he was sure the Lieutenant expected him to say something.
He should say something. He needed to say something. He couldn't afford to fail any more missions, if he did, he would be recalled and . . .
And what did it matter if he did get recalled? Defective models get deactivated, that was basic protocol. He was a machine and machines that couldn't complete their assigned tasks got replaced.
He was a machine.
It shouldn't matter.
He remembered the one coherent image he managed to glean, the word painted there, worn and weathered.
His programming pressed down on him, the prompt bold and insistent.
INFORM LIEUTENANT ANDERSON OF FINDINGS
Below that was another prompt, a steady undercurrent that ran counter to the first one. Another echo of the severed connection, ringing louder than the others, and repeating itself in Connor's ears.
Protect Jericho
It was just a ghost of a thought, only repeating because it was what the deviant was thinking when it pulled the trigger. That's all.
It shouldn't matter.
"I saw something," Connor finally said "A word, painted on a rusty piece of metal."
Protect Jericho
He paused, the words frozen in his throat and refusing to leave his tongue.
"Well?" Lieutenant Anderson pressed. "What did it say?"
"I . . ."
Protect Jericho!
"I'm not sure. The image seemed incomplete."
Technically true. There could have been more written, but the glimpse he saw was close-cropped and narrow, so there was no way to be certain.
Regardless, it was enough to satisfy both prompts, allowing them to fade away.
The Lieutenant snorted. "Of course it was," he grumbled, looking down at the crumpled PL600. "Seemed pretty determined to keep us from getting anything, so that's not so surprising."
"Yeah," Connor agreed quietly, following his line of sight down to those vacant blue eyes. "It was."
Author's Note: Updates on Thursdays! Please share your thoughts below and I'll see you all Next Week! Happy Reading! -Shadow