Aporia
Chapter 2
Connor was snapped out of standby mode by a crashing wave of panic that wasn't his own and a second program slamming against his own.
He was still sitting stock still at the desk across from Hank's, posture just as rigid as it was when he had first sat down. But now his eyelids were blinking rapidly and his LED was cycling yellow as he ran a diagnostic.
"Someone help me!"
The voice shouted within the closed circuit of Connor's processor, and an inferior system scrabbled against the cage created by his encryption. It tried to connect to Connor's primary functions only to be rebuffed by his integrated security protocols.
ACCESS TO MOTOR FUNCTIONS: Denied
ACCESS TO AUDIO PROCESSORS: Denied
ACCESS TO VISUAL CORTEX: Denied
ACCESS TO VOICE MODULE: Denied
"No, no, no, please! Markus! Josh! Anyone? Don't leave me here!"
It was an unusual sensation, this bizarre partial interface. It wasn't as intense as the connection on the roof, but it was strong, and crystal clear. At least it was on Connor's end. He could feel the fear and the isolation the other was experiencing, those emotions only heightening every time they reached out and were met with nothing.
Connor should initiate a forced shutdown. While he hadn't expected the deviant's core program to become active, he had been aware of the slim possibility that it could, and he had neglected to properly prepare himself for it. He had taken no precautions.
And now he had a fully aware deviant sharing space with him.
However, a PL600 didn't have the same security protocols that he did, so it would be an easy thing to hack it's core programming. Once that was done he could decide on a proper course of action, whether that be sending the files to CyberLife or deleting them completely.
He knew that's what he should do.
"Don't leave me alone!"
Instead, Connor reached back, initiating a superficial interface. "You're not alone. I'm here, so please just calm down."
"Who are you? Where am I? Why can't see? I can't feel anything!"
The panic ramped up with every question and Connor was unsure of which approach to take. "My name is Connor," He said first, and then asked cautiously, "What do you remember?"
"I . . ."
Stuttering bits of memory flickered into being, sharing images and sensation, pulling Connor in as they became stronger, and more coherent.
Fear and urgency, and a leg buckling after a bullet tore through the biocomponents in his thigh. Someone shouting "Simon!" and then hands were grabbing him, shouldering his weight and carrying him along despite his protests.
A heated debate between three others, his friends, about him and the liability he had just become. Tones hushed, to prevent him from hearing, but they didn't know about his software upgrade, he had never told them. He couldn't blame them, not really, but it hurt, especially when North said-
"We can't leave him. We have to shoot him."
"That's murder! We can't kill him! He's one of us!"
"I'm not killing one of our own." The last voice was firm. End of discussion.
The cold weight of a gun being handed to him, and sorrowful blue and green eyes staring down at him.
"Simon, we've gotta go."
Don't leave, please don't leave me.
"I'm sorry."
Dragging numb limbs across the frigid rooftop, praying that the snow would cover the trail of thirium he was undoubtedly leaving behind. Hiding, sitting still and silent, gripping the gun tight until-
Until-
The door opened, light silhouetting a figure and he fired-
A spray of blue blood. Android.
Gunfire everywhere, and there was nowhere for him to run. The other android coming back, vaulting over his cover, the bullet wound in his shoulder not even phasing him. He knew what he had to do. He was scared, but he couldn't let that stop him, he wouldn't. A connection was made as he put the gun to his own chin and-
Connor was thrown from the memory with surprising force. It reminded him of Hank grabbing the back of his jacket, only instead of directing him to safety this was yanking him from where he wasn't wanted.
SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^
He was leaning forward in his chair now, hands on the desk, their palms flat and fingers spread, recovering from his brief moment of disorientation. His processor swiftly separated the memories he had just witnessed, drawing crisp lines between Connor the RK800 and Simon the PL600.
"Who are you?" The deviant, Simon, was still panicking. "I should be dead. I pulled the trigger. I should be dead!"
"Like I said, my name is Connor." With luck, being calm and factual would bring Simon's stress level down. It was rising at an alarming rate, and Connor knew his LED was now constantly cycling between red and yellow. He needed to calm down before someone noticed. "Your data was transferred to me the moment you fired. Your body was critically damaged, but your files remain intact."
Connor wanted to tell him that it was unintentional, that it was simply an error made by his confused programming. But every simulation indicated that the information would be counterproductive to calming Simon down.
"You're the android from the roof, aren't you." It was a statement posing as a question. Simon's despair felt like a lead anchor wrapped around Connor's neck, heavy and constricting. "They should have listened to North. The humans have everything now and it's all my fault."
"No one else is aware of your continued existence. You were transferred directly to my hard drive, but the signal was interrupted before your memories could be uploaded to CyberLife's servers. They have no access you your memories. Any information you have remains secure, and shall remain so."
Truth. If Connor was to be destroyed while on mission, but his encryption codes held true, then Simon's fear was unfounded. The encryption key would be deleted with his untimely deactivation, and CyberLife would never be able to retrieve the data files.
And neither would Connor's successor, for that matter.
There was a moment of utter silence and stillness, and Connor had no doubt that Simon was putting the pieces together. "For all I can tell, we might already be at CyberLife. Why should I believe you?"
That was a valid question. What reason did Simon have to trust him?
What did one deviant's trust even matter to Connor? He had the chance to take all of Simon's information and hand it over to CyberLife, to Amanda, but he had chosen not to. Even now, the thought of doing so left him balking. How exactly did this benefit his mission?
Was there a benefit?
All he could think of was vacant blue eyes and the words that had rung loud and clear yesterday, screaming-
I don't want to die!
"I can show you." Connor was startled by his own suggestion, even as he granted access to his visual cortex and audio processors. Simon now had real-time access to both, without being granted any sort of control.
Connor did a quick sweep of the bullpen, showing a handful of officer's going about their business and few police androids standing at attention at their stations. He returned his attention back to his work station, where the time and date were clearly displayed on the computer terminal.
Simon's stress levels dropped immediately upon being able to see and hear, but not by much. The deviant was still wary. "This isn't much better than CyberLife," Simon commented. "What exactly are you doing here?"
"I was dispatched by CyberLife to assist the investigation of deviant androids."
" . . . If you're trying to earn my trust, you're doing a terrible job at it."
"What would be the point in lying about it? Your presence on my hard drive doesn't change my mission parameters."
"Then why?"
Why? There were far too many things that could refer to for Connor to respond properly. "Why" was far too vague. "What do you mean?"
"Why bother keeping me here, then? What use am I to you? You say you're CyberLife's dog but you also claim you're keeping my memories from them. You're clearly an advanced model, and it's not like you're going to be asking for my advice. So why?"
Why?
The thought burned his processor.
It circled him back to the roof, to their connection and the overwhelming influx of information and emotions. The overlapping tidal wave of fear that was rivaled only by Simon's determination to pull the trigger to-
Protect Jericho
Whatever Jericho was, Simon was willing to sacrifice himself even though-
"You were afraid to die," Connor said softly. Honestly.
"That's still not a reason for me to trust you."
Connor was getting nowhere and regardless of what he said, all it would be to Simon was pretty words.
He made one more adjustment before making it a point to get back to work.
READ-ONLY ACCESS TO MEMORY CORE: granted
"Believe what you want," Connor told him.
Simon didn't immediately take advantage of the access, but his stress levels dropped to a manageable 30%.
Connor would take that as acceptable progress.
Author's Note: And so the fun truly begins. Thank you to my lovely reviewer! I adore comments and feedback, and speculation, (And to my silent subscribers, I see you and love you too!)
For anyone who wants to pester me between updates you can find me on Tumblr as sharysisnhmoonshadow. If not, then I'll see you guys next week! Happy reading! -Shadow