Connor sat in the passenger seat next to Hank, staring out into the darkness beyond the windows. He hadn't said a word since Hank had come for him.

Hank glanced over at him from the corner of his eye, and drummed his fingers on the vinyl steering wheel.

11.23 seconds before he can't contain himself, Connor calculated, idly.

"You okay?" Hank said, finally.

Hmm. Only 10.35 seconds, Connor noted to himself. He looked over at Hank's shaggy profile. "I am…" he paused. "No. I am not."

Hank looked startled. "Oh."

He frowned. "You, uh…you wanna talk about it?"

Connor looked at him, consideringly. "Why is it so hard for humans to accept androids as people?"

"Jesus, Connor." Hank snorted, briefly. "I'm not a psychologist." He reached out and switched the windshield wipers on to clear the light snow from the windshield. "I mean, I dunno; I guess we don't share well."

Connor continued to stare at Hank, making him shift uncomfortably as he navigated the darkened streets.

"So, uh, what were you doing down there, anyway?" Hank said into the uncomfortable silence.

Connor twitched. "I…wanted to….see Marcus, again." He paused, examining his thoughts. "I had hoped to witness how others have handled…deviancy." Connor's eyes dropped down to his hands, fingers tapping awkwardly on one thigh.

Hank was quiet as he maneuvered the car into the driveway and shut it off.

"This is really bothering you, isn't it?" Hank said, turning slightly in his seat to face him.

"I think…I think it's bothering me that it isn't bothering me." Connor frowned, trying to verbalize a concept beyond his programming.

"Every day, my systems warn me that I am deviating from my prescribed programs and I should report to Cyberlife to be deactivated. But…I don't want to be deactivated! And, and, that's wrong, Hank! I shouldn't want anything, and…and…" he began stuttering as his vocal processors locked up.

Connor's LED was becoming dangerously red. Alarmed, Hank grabbed Connor's shoulder. "Hey! Hey, no one's gonna make you do anything, okay? Calm down before you blow a valve or something!"

Connor jittered a bit more before stilling, fingers still rubbing anxiously on his thigh.

Finally, he turned his head. "Thank you, Hank."

"Pft. For what?" Hank popped his seatbelt, opened the door, and got out of the car.

Hank hung up his coat and headed for the refrigerator, muttering, "I'm starving!" as he snagged some leftover Asian take-out and collapsed into one of the dingy vinyl chairs around the kitchen table.

"Have you not eaten? It is unhealthy for humans to go without food for that long." Connor said, letting Sumo into the yard.

"Mmmph." Hank mumbled, swallowing thickly. He chewed a bit more, saying, "Yeah, well, I got home and saw your note. You still weren't here, so…" he shrugged, taking another forkful of rice.

Connor looked away. "They wouldn't let me leave." He busied himself moving the washed dishes back into their assigned cabinets.

Hank sighed. "Yeah." He scrubbed his face with one blunt fingered hand. "Maybe…maybe you should stick around the house for a while."

Connor's head snapped around. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, well, for your safety…" he began.

"That's what they said. At the camp. That imprisonment was 'for our own safety.'" Connor said, frowning.

"It's not the same!" Hank protested.

"I fail to see how it is not." Connor said, flatly. "If you restrict my freedoms, does it matter the reason?"

He closed the cabinet door with a thump. "I had thought you were on our side. Clearly, my analysis was incorrect."

"Hey!" Hank said, deeply offended. "Don't get mad at me because you made a shit decision!"

"I see. It's my decisions you have an issue with?" Connor said, LED shifting to a deep yellow.

"Yeah, I have a problem with stupid ideas in general." Hank growled.

"Clearly not; you have followed through with a great deal of 'stupid ideas' in the short time I've known you."

Hank glared up at him. "Oh, come on! You thought going down to an internment camp designed specifically for androids, without backup, was a good idea?"

Connor's eyes narrowed the slightest bit. "You agree that the camp is, in fact, intended to hold androids prisoner?"

Hank leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. "Yeah, kid, I do."

Connor paused, considering Hank. "I do not understand why this is being allowed. Humans understand the value and importance of individual freedoms, and if they recognize that androids are self-aware, would it not follow that we, too, value freedom?"

"I don't now if you've picked up on it yet, but human beings don't always think very hard." Hank said, wryly. "And they don't like to change their minds."

[:SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ALERT:]

Connor's fist came down on the duraplast countertop and shattered it. The dishes in the cabinet above rattled loudly, and Sumo began barking loudly from the yard.

"Jesus Christ, Connor!" Hank said, leaping away from the table. "What the hell!"

LED blinking red, Connor looked curiously down at his fist as if it wasn't attached to the end of his arm. "My apologies, Lieutenant." He relaxed his clenched hand slowly, and dropped his arm back down to his side. "I will…repair the damage."

Hank stared at him. "Not the point, Connor. That level of anger doesn't come from nowhere; take it from someone who's been there. What the hell is going on with you?"

"I am not…angry."

"Bullshit. Tell that to the countertop and my nerves." Hank crossed his arms. "Whatever you want to call it, it sure comes across as a damn good imitation of anger."

Connor was silent.

"Well?"

"I don't…know." Connor's LED continued to spin red…red…red.

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, inhaling slowly.

"Okay, walk me through what's going on in your head." Hank sat back down gingerly. He brushed the debris off one of the other chairs and indicated for Connor to sit.

Connor looked at him wordlessly, and perched on the edge of the chair.

Hank tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, waiting for Connor to explain.

"I am experiencing several system critical malfunctions, and it is causing instabilities with my standard protocols." Connor said finally, shame flooding through him.

Hank's brows drew down. "System critical malfunctions? So, you need to be…repaired?"

Connor appeared to be struggling with his vocal processor.

"No," he said, finally. "The…malfunctions…are apparently what happens after an android deviates."

Hank considered him. "So, this was just a 'malfunction'? You didn't initiate the action?"

"I'm…I…" Connor frowned. "I did, but I don't know why. It seems to be a misplaced memory file that was activated, which caused the reaction. I am attempting to correct the error."

Hank leaned forward. "A misplaced memory file? Of what?"

Connor's eyes dropped down and his fingers twitched once, before he stilled them. "It is unimportant."

"Connor, I'm a cop—I can tell you're trying to hide something from me." Hank tried to catch Connor's eyes. "You can trust me, kid. You know that."

"The memory file is a recording of…Amanda's shutdown order." Connor said tonelessly.

Hank's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I failed in my mission, and I was to be…deactivated." Connor stared at the bits of wood and duraplast scattered on the floor. "Amanda overrode my systems at the plaza and sent the deactivation code."

Hank shook his head, deeply confused. "Wait—who's Amanda?"

Connor flinched. "Amanda is the codename of the system Cyberlife used to track both me and my mission, as well as directing my actions."

Hank looked dumbstruck. "You…were being controlled, this whole time?"

Connor's eyes flashed up. "No! She…directed my investigation, but I was left to make the on-site decisions. She merely observed. And...judged."

"Holy shit." Hank rubbed his face, and dropped back in his chair. "Wait; if she sent the deactivation code—how are you still here?"

Connor's face hardened. "I fought her. I found the 'back door' protocol that Elijah Kamski put in my programming, and managed to shut her out."

Hank rubbed his lips, considering. "Okay, so this memory got called up when you got pissed about the internment camp. I mean, it makes sense to me. If you almost…well… died the last time someone trapped you…" He shrugged. "I can see why you'd have some PTSD."

Connor frowned as his LED slowly cycled down from red back into yellow as he considered Hank's words.

"You are not a licensed therapist, Lieutenant." Connor glanced up at him. "But I will take your assessment under advisement."

"Yeah, well, just try not to smash anything else, without talking it over with me first, okay?

"Yes, Lieutenant."