"Let's go home." Hank mouthed against my ear, his beard scratching my cheek. I was still locked in his friendly, but forceful hug. His fingers pressed firmly against my neck and forced my forehead to rest on his shoulder. His coat smelled of melting snow, cheap beer, and cologne. I pressed the tip of my fingers against his firm back and nodded. I already felt at home.

I ran a diagnostic. 'SELF ANALYSIS…. PROGRAM UNSTABLE. MULTIPLE MALFUNCTIONS DETECTED,' the words bled across my vision. I blinked them away, focused on a snowflake melting on Anderson's shoulder. The wind twirled snowflakes into tiny, white tornadoes around us. I was hoping my mind could identify this new sensation palming at my ribs. I could feel the thirium moving under my skin. A steady thrum of liquid pumped under my chest. I could feel the wind on my face. I could feel Hank's hot breath against my ear.

I wanted a diagnosis- a word for these sensations. I felt… happy. But I sensed there was complexity to this happiness. It was more than that.

I ran a diagnostic again. 'SELF ANALYSIS…. PROGRAM UNSTABLE. MULTIPLE MALFUNCTIONS DETECTED.'

The lieutenant pulled me away and tussled my hair, interrupting my thoughts.

I'd called Hank after the riot settled. After Markus and I succeeded in ending a potential war. There were no laws in place to protect us yet, no documents to declare our freedom. But the police stopped murdering us senselessly. That was a good start. Markus was already in the process of negotiating with the president about the future. Maybe we would have legal protection from hate crimes, paying jobs, even property and marriage. We could be human.

"You look tired Connor." Hank patted me on the shoulder and scratched his beard. "Can you get tired?"

"I… I don't know. I think I feel..." I paused at the word, wondering if it fit, "overwhelmed."

Hank rubbed my shoulder compassionately. "You saved a lot of lives today Connor. You saved your people. I think it's normal to feel a bit overwhelmed."

"We saved a lot of lives today Hank."

Hank just smiled and tousled my hair again.

"We both deserve some rest then. Come on Connor, let's go home."

I hugged him again. This time I pulled him into me, squeezing his chest against my cheek.

Feeling him against gave me a sensation. What was it? It was like an electrical shock in my toes. A tightness in my chest. It felt… warm?

I could hear his steady breathing. I could feel his heart thumping under his ribs. ANALYSIS… HANK ANDERSON, HEART RATE: 70BPM… 72 BPM… 73BPM….

Hank clasped a hand around the back of my neck. He pulled my face from his chest and looked at me. I could feel his breath on my nose.

ANALYSIS… HANK ANDERSON, PUPILS DILATED. HEART RATE INCREASING.

"What are you smiling about?" He teased.

"You. I'm smiling because of you." I was honest.

And he smiled back. He smiled back with a smile I knew was because of me.

Domestic life with Anderson was strange at first. He prepared a bed for me on the couch. I didn't sleep, we both knew this. It was more of a formality. The couch was the only thing that felt comfortable at first. I would sit and wait. For what? Commands? I would wait for someone to tell me what to do. But no one did. After some time awkwardly imprisoning myself on the couch, I busied myself with housework. I painted the kitchen, repaired the broken window, scrubbed the grease from the oven. I always found new projects to occupy myself.

One afternoon I was busy obsessively scratching at a black stain on the coffee table. Hank asked me to take a break and join him on our couch. I could tell by his glossy eyes he'd had a few glasses of whiskey but was still levelheaded. Sumo curled between us on the couch, nudging his head under Hank's hand, urging him for a scratch.

"Did you know Sumo was a rescue dog? Found him a few years ago on a case."

I rubbed Sumo's back gently. "No, I didn't."

"He was so neglected. This asshole used to keep him in a cage all day and night. When we finally opened the door to that cage he didn't want to leave. He was so used to the cage he didn't know how to live without it."

Sumo licked Hank's hand appreciatingly as he scratched the back of his ear. His tail wagged heavily on my lap.

Hank continued. "He got used to me, but it took a long time. He used to stay under that table and never leave." Hank pointed to the table in the kitchen. "It was like he was trying to crawl back in that cage." He wrapped his arm around the couch, his fingers nearly brushing against my shoulder.

I combed a hand through Sumo's thick fur and tried to imagine what kind of person would neglect him. Who could ignore his wet kisses and charming whimpers for attention?

"Connor, look at me," The lieutenant commanded. I obeyed. His grey-blue eyes were earnest, his expression sober. "You're not in a cage anymore."

My chest felt like something was on it. It felt… heavy. But it wasn't entirely unpleasant. Had I been in a cage? Of course. I had been walled in by commands and protocol. I was designed to follow orders perfectly, to always accomplish my mission. But, he was right. Just like a neglected puppy, I didn't know how to live outside that cage. I didn't know how to function without someone telling me what to do. I felt uncomfortable with this new freedom.

"You've spent your entire existence following commands, doing shit for other people. You've done enough shit for other people. It's time for you to live for yourself."

I traced a black patch of fur on Sumo's back, "Things for myself?" What did he want me to do for myself? What could I possibly do for myself?

"What makes you happy Connor?"

I thought for a second. "You do. You make me happy."

This made him chuckle. "I'm flattered Connor but what do you enjoy doing for fun?"

For fun? What did he mean? Like a hobby? "I… I don't know." I was made to follow orders, to complete missions. I'd never done anything else.

"Well you have all the time in the world." Hank pushed himself from the couch and shuffled across the room. Sumo wined, missing Hanks company. The lieutenant opened a box filled with records. "How about music? Everyone likes music. We should figure out your favorite genre."

"Alright. I thought your… um heavy metal was… interesting." I crumpled my nose.

"You hate it." Anderson frowned.

"No, I don't hate it Lieutenant," I started.

Hank chuckled. "You can have different taste Connor. I'm not fucking offended."

Sumo jumped from the couch and waddled towards his doggy bed. The lieutenant began riffling through his records as Sumo sniffed out the perfect spot to curl into sleep.

"Ha!" The lieutenant raised a record in the air . "Let's try Jazz. You seem like a Billie Holiday kinda guy." He placed the record on the player, adjusted the needle, and plopped back down with me on the couch.

The song started. A simple piano jingle and a saxophone fizzed along. Billie's voice was thick and cognant, each note dripping with sensation. I could feel the music pulling at me. It was steady and rhythmic, vibrating under my skin.

Living for you, is easy living.

It's easy to live, when you're in love.

And I'm so in love. There's nothing in love but you.

I sighed, "It's wonderful. She's wonderful."

"Isn't she?" Hank smiled, a bit proud of himself for finding something I liked.

The next few weeks were more comfortable. We spent our time together discovering our likes and dislikes. Hank made me watch all his favorite movies from his childhood. He loved action movies like Bladerunner, Robo Cop and, Terminator. The irony of the common robotic theme in those movies is not lost on me. I found I enjoyed quirky foreign films like Amelie.

We spent two months like this, with nothing to do but waste time watching films, listening to music, and discovering eachother.

Our vacation ended with a call from Jeffrey Fowler at the police station.

"What the fuck do you mean their heads are missing?" The lieutenant blared from the kitchen. "Yes, I know where Connor is. He's not interested."

"Interested in what Lieutenant?" I asked, stepping into the kitchen.

"I HEARD THAT! CONNOR!" Jeffrey yelled into the phone so loudly Hank had to pull it from his ear.

"Fine. Fine. How do I put this fucking thing on speaker?" Hank jabbed his finger against the screen.

"Got it." I synced my system to his phone and turned on the speaker.

"Connor?" Jeffrey's voice called.

Hank looked at his phone, confused. "How the fuck did you do that without touching my phone?"

I pointed to my L.E.D. Of course, I can tap into your phone. "How can we help you Jeffrey?"

"How have you been Connor? Life treating you ok? It's still dangerous for androids out there you know."

"I'm keeping a low profile till the law sorts itself out." Until the government could agree on how to write androids into law, we were still a legal grey area.

"I understand." He cleared his throat. "It might not be your idea of a low profile, but I want to ask you for your help. Connor, we're getting new android cases every day. Last night there was an…. incident involving androids. I'm worried there might be someone targeting your people."

"What are you asking Jeffrey?" I knew what he was asking.

"I'm asking for you and Hank to come back. Help me find this sick bastard. No one is more qualified for this than you two."

I looked at Hank. He shrugged. He could already tell I wanted this.

"When can we start?" I beamed.