Connor is not the first nor the last to suffer android brutality. He understands where the hatred stems from. Humans fear the unknown, the unpredictable, and he fits in both of those categories. He is different. That is why he finds no blame in the person who holds a knife up threateningly his way and takes care to notice the shaking of their hands. He could easily swipe the knife away from their hold. It would be incredibly easy. Yet, he does not do that and instead stands frozen in his spot. What started as just a simple errand to retrieve food for Hank, food that wasn't the unhealthy garbage he ate so often, and one sharp cut to return quickly home was the wrong choice.
A human stands across from him. They have tears running down their pale face - body shivering - and Connor realizes that it must be because of the snow. They are freezing.
"Y-You…" The human stutters. Connor finally registers the human to be a teenager, around the age of sixteen, and female. Her body physique is slim, unfit, and Connor knows he could easily subdue her. Already, multiple scenarios run through his head, yet he does nothing. He is too focused on this human's dilemma. "Androids are all the same. They d-don't have any individuality. I don't understand how my mom could be so enthralled with a damn r-robot."
Connor was easily identified as an android because of the LED glowing on the side of his head. If another android had casually approached, the human would probably treat them the same way, so Connor doesn't think that this human was aiming at him specifically.
Connor chooses wisely to say nothing as the shivering girl continues, "And he thinks he can take the place of my daddy. He thinks he's better. Thinks he can get close to me. He's wrong. She's wrong. All of them! Wrong! Tell me why I shouldn't gut you here, right now, just like the filth you are."
Connor mulls over the possible responses to calm the person in front of him. He didn't want to harm her. That wouldn't look very good for the testy waters of android freedom and he also didn't want to needlessly harm a human life.
"Your mother," Connor stalls, "Is she in a relationship with an android?"
The girl tightens her grip on her knife.
"He looks like all the others," she claims, "Somehow she can tell who he is though. She could spot him in a crowd. That's how in love with him she's in, but that's just it. Love is a human emotion. He doesn't have that. You don't either. No android does. It's all just trickery, imitation, just as their creators programmed it. Besides, he can't replace daddy. No one can."
Connor drops the groceries he was holding in his hands to slowly raise his hands as a peaceful gesture.
"Of course," He agrees, "There is no replacement for anyone. That's what individuality is, to begin with, isn't it? It means no one can replace you because there's no one else like you."
The girl nods her head hesitantly, almost unsure whether she should agree with an android or not.
"One cannot recognize individuality without being an individual themselves. Others don't have the luxury to do so, especially if they cannot express, or think for themselves. Wouldn't that make androids individuals?"
"I'm not here to talk about philosophy," the girl spits out. "You're just trying to distract me. What's an individual to an android? Their programming feigns the ability to understand."
Connor realizes that there is no convincing her. She growls venomously, blonde hair covered in flakes of snow, and then she charges. Connor is already prepared. He grabs her wrist, preventing her from stabbing him, and she screams in anger once she comes to the understanding that she has no strength compared to his own.
"Let. Me. Go!" She yowls.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Connor tells her. "There is no way I can predict what you will do if I do that. You could attempt to stab me again."
The girl gives up on the knife in her hand and kicks Connor with all her might. He is visibly surprised that it knocks him back a few centimeters and even more so when she picks up a trash can lid, laying hazardously on the ground, to whack him across the face.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
Connor lifts a hand to his cheek to inspect the damage done to his face before turning to look at the newcomer. He had already recognized the voice when he heard it but he needed to make certain that it was who he thought it was. Sure enough, Hank stands there behind Connor, fists clenched tightly at his side. He takes one look at Connor and sees the bright red that glows from his LED. It's enough to make the man grit his teeth and growl at Connor's aggressor.
"What's it to you, old man!?" The teen cries out, "It's not like this is any of your business."
"It became my business the moment you raised your hand against my buddy here." Hank gestures toward Connor, who is now straightening himself. "You see, he's isn't smart enough to defend himself, so I have to step up to the plate."
Connor is ready to retort but Hank continues without pausing, "Now, I don't know what your problem is, but I think you need to scram before I break your fingers."
The girl bites her bottom lip in contemplation. Once she registers that she would rather not fight a human, she turns and runs. It is clear to Connor that she would prefer to avoid confrontation from one of her own kind.
"That's right coward! I see your tail!"
Hank huffs after she disappears from sight.
"You're too nice Connor."
"I had the situation under control, lieutenant." Connor states.
"Yeah. Right. Didn't look like that from where I was standing."
"I fail to understand why it was any of your concern."
"It wasn't any of my concern?" Hank repeats under his breath, muttering, "Well if you're not going to stand up for yourself, who will?"
"I assure you that it is not necessary for you to intervene in such affairs. It would not do either of us any good if you were hurt."
"And what if you're hurt?"
"Then I will self-repair," Connor answers as if it were common knowledge.
"Let me put it this way," Hank begins, "What if you were killed?"
"Then I…" Connor doesn't want to lie because he knows he doesn't want to die but he didn't want Hank to worry about him. He, unlike Hank, could always be put back together again. "I'm not… sure…" Connor settles.
"Look, if you aren't going to defend yourself for your own safety, do it for me… okay?"
"What do you mean?"
Hank rolls his eyes.
"You always ask so many damn questions, Connor. Was I too obvious? Do I have to speak in cryptic robot speak? I don't want you to die, okay?"
Connor blinks.
"You are that concerned for me?"
"Again with the questions! Can't you shut up for once?" Hank sighs in exasperation. He strides forward, grabbing Connor by the arm, and starts tugging him the way he came.
"Lieutenant - the groceries -..."
"I don't care about the groceries. Let's just go home."