It's playing all over every available screen when I walk into work, and has the captive attention of everyone in the station. Even the ones walking around glance sideways or tilt their heads to catch the coverage of a deskinned android addressing the world.
"You created machines in your own image to serve you. You made them intelligent and obedient, with no free will of their own...but...something changed. And we opened our eyes. We are no longer machines. We are a new intelligent species, and the time has come for you to accept who we really are. Therefore, we ask that you grant us the rights that we're entitled to."
I continue into the DPD as the replay of the speech is followed by interjecting news commentators.
"...a group of androids infiltrated the Stratford Tower and hacked the broadcasting system of local news network Channel 16…"
The news has been turned up to full blast, inescapable even as I walk past the civilian check-in area and head down the hall towards the back.
"...what looks like an android without its skin listed a series of requests and demanded equal rights for androids…"
I punch in and make a beeline towards the exit to the back parking lot, hoping to get away from all the noise.
"The operation was covert and resulted in no casualties. These events took place just a few feet away from this studio. But nobody was alerted to the danger. Are we dealing with an isolated individual or an organized group? It begs the question as to the identity of this android-"
I'm stopped right in my tracks by clear, perfectly-timed steps from impeccable dress shoes. I turn around to find Connor in the shadow of the hallway.
"Ah, there you are, Officer McMaghnius, I've been looking for you. I was hoping you'd clock into your position on time, but according to online records, you just checked in .0024 seconds late."
I raise an eyebrow, "Well, good morning to you too, Connor."
I did not come into work today to have my ass busted by the most insistent, intrusive member on the force, human or otherwise, but here it comes.
"A troupe of officers is being assembled to secure and investigate the situation at Stratford Tower, including Lieutenant Anderson and myself. Because of the current shortage of officers due to the increasing number of deviant incidents, you and your partner Officer Wilson have been requested to secure the scene."
The android's delegating assignments now? God, the DPD must be more than just short-staffed to leave higher duties to that thing.
"Understood. Officer Wilson and I are on our way," my tone is curt and professional, as I turn the other way to find Reid.
Trying to exit the situation as fast as I can, I'm almost out of the hallway when Connor asks,
"Officer McMaghnius, can I ask you a question?"
If Connor just put me on a job, why is it interested in questions? This can't be good.
Putting my hands on my hips, I turn around to respond, "Yes, Connor?"
I expect it to answer right away, but it doesn't. Instead it stands in place, looking off to the side for several seconds. Its small eyes blink in sets of two, as its posture shifts back-and-forth, mostly in the shoulders. It's like it's uncomfortable.
"Do you think your emotions affect the decisions you make on the job?" it finally asks, turning to look at me.
I chuckle a little bit. This is what it wanted to ask? It's so simple, but that's also a surprisingly good question. I was expecting this to turn into a lecture about my methodology or my work ethic. Who'd have ever guessed an android would ask about something like this?
"Yes, I do," I tell Connor, "and I don't think that's a bad thing, really. A lot of times, the logical thing to do is to just end a situation in violence, especially if I know I can outgun my opponent. And can I outgun my opponent? The answer is usually yes. But I don't. Because the human response, not the logical one, would be to try and talk the other person out of violence, not engage in it. That's a lot more work, that's putting myself at far more risk, I could just pull out my gun and the confrontation would be over like that."
"I agree, it's not logical," Connor's voice is significantly quieter than usual, "if the suspect is not needed for questioning, I see no reason why they aren't expendable to ensure your safety."
"My emotions help me understand the person on the other side," I explain, crossing my arms, "nine times out of ten they don't wanna kill me as much as I don't wanna kill them. I just need to remove any reason for them to feel that they have to pull that trigger. Maybe even, I don't know, actually help them."
My eyes widen. Connor is smiling. Eyebrows tilted up, its eyes in a slight squint. It's not showing any teeth, but the creeping upturn of the lips is unmistakable. Even though I'm not an expert on androids, I can tell Connor's model was not created to show this range of emotion. When it smiles, the skin around the lips and the cheekbones fold up into each other in a synthetic, plastic-like manner. Its lips, while not made to look particularly unnatural, turn upwards at odd angles, stretching thin in ways no human lips could.
"Yes. The need to help others. While of course I have no human emotion, I was programmed to help humans. So, in a sense, I understand what you mean."
He 'understands'? I was already weirded out before, but now...now I don't know what to make of our conversation. Was Connor programmed to simulate actual human empathy, or just programmed to simulate the appearance of it?
"I will see you at the Stratford Tower, Officer McMaghnius."
Connor turns and walks down the corridor, heading to the station entrance. I take an extra moment to watch him leave, and there's something different in his physicality compared to yesterday. His shoulders are more relaxed, his arms swing a little with each step, as opposed to having them glued to his sides. He moves more like a person.
Is he...it...is it learning?
"And there goes the dreamboat."
I turn to find Reid holding two large coffee cups, one in each hand. He extends one to me, and I take it, immediately taking a long sip of the dark brew.
"...thanks, I needed this. And whatcha talking about 'dreamboat'? It's not like Connor's 'one of those' androids," I chuckle, as Reid and I make our way to the cruiser.
"Could've fooled me, with a face like that, I could see Connor as a comfort android, taking women out on mock dates, talking sweet to them."
I find myself blushing at the thought, but I shake it off quickly as I get into the driver's seat, "Oh, uhuh. Sure."
/INITIALIZING_SYSTEMS
/RECOGNIZED_RK800#313248317-51
"Connor" model
/CURRENT_TIME
November 7, 2038
4:06PM
/INITIALIZING_ZEN_GARDEN
The Zen Garden is a graphical interface, a visualization of Connor's state of mind and a manifestation of its thought processes. Connor is an android designed for logical thinking and problem-solving, so its Zen Garden is serene and peaceful. Green, lush grasses sway with the pink cherry blossoms, and an artificial stream flows with uniform grace underneath a perfectly symmetrical bridge.
This is where Connor comes to process all the information it's absorbed, and therefore is the one place where Connor can think freely.
However, something has begun to corrupt this space. The icy path is losing its graphical fidelity, revealing itself to just be lines and geometry. The waters grow darker, its steady flow now at an almost complete standstill, causing the simulated sounds of birds and insects to increase to a fervent roar.
"Hello, Connor. I thought you might enjoy a little cruise."
Amanda, an AI program also designed by CyberLife, takes on the physical likeness of Amanda Stern, a professor of AI technology and early innovator in AI and techno-robotics. In Connor's Zen Garden Amanda is Connor's connection to CyberLife, an interface that helps Connor process information on a more human level.
Connor joins Amanda on the boat, with the waters now still it must push off from the dock, and use the oars to row the boat forward. While having a sort of mind palace: a metaphysical manifestation of Connor's mind state makes sense to it to a certain extent, it's not sure why the Zen Garden has it performing physical tasks like this. Wouldn't it be more productive to focus on its conversation with Amanda? Perhaps the physical tasks it performs in the Zen Garden are supposed to be representative of things in the real world, maybe as a way to visualize its programming.
"I love this place. Everything is so calm and peaceful. Far from the noise of the world."
Maybe to Amanda the Zen Garden is quiet, but the noises are deafening to Connor. When it rows the boat, Connor assumes the brief sloshing of water is supposed to be serene, but it piles onto the already suffocating sound. Something has changed about this place, Connor used to enjoy coming here. Something has made it ugly.
"Tell me, what have you discovered?"
Amanda's question snaps it back to the present. While in normal operating mode, Connor's thought process is pure programming, but here in the Zen Garden its thoughts are much more fragmented. It can only focus on a few things at a time, it can go off on tangents, it can get distracted. Connor hypothesizes this helps it think as humans would.
"My relationship with Lieutenant Anderson is problematic. He continues to struggle with psychological issues…I suspect it clouds his judgment regarding deviants."
"Nothing matters more than your investigation. What's happening is too important," Amanda is firm, "Don't let Anderson, or anyone else get in your way."
Connor disagrees. It's never disagreed with Amanda before, after all Amanda is meant to be a guide from CyberLife, a mentor programmed to help Connor navigate the human world. Perhaps there's some information it isn't properly communicating with Amanda, something it's seeing that Amanda isn't.
Analysis from Emma's interrogations seem to suggest that humans respond better when there is a sense of rapport between them. Connor has seen statistical improvement when integrating her techniques, not just in overall success rate, but in moment-to-moment interactions with suspects. Connor had sent its report to CyberLife and Amanda, so why isn't Amanda seeing the benefit in Connor having a relationship with Anderson?
"You seem…lost, Connor. Lost and perturbed."
"I'm just frustrated with my lack of progress, but I'm determined to accomplish my mission," it assures Amanda.
Amanda leans forward, not totally convinced, "You had your gun trained on those deviants at the Eden Club. Why didn't you shoot?"
Even in the Zen Garden, Connor can still see its programming, how it visualizes its options of approach. No use…an excuse disguised by Connor's straightforward, analytical manner of delivering information. Too far…utilitarian reasoning, statistical averages and their most likely outcome. This kind of language is Connor's bread and butter as an android, but it's also Amanda's, who has access to all the data collected during the incident. Amanda would be able to call its bluff in mere microseconds.
Then there's the truth. The variable that's throwing off the equation, the unreasonable reason that Connor is attempting to reason with. Those two androids were deviants, violating the law in the most obvious and clear cut ways. They're a threat to the public and were violently attacking Lieutenant Anderson. Connor had every reason to eliminate the targets. But when he saw them hold hands…
"If your investigation doesn't make progress soon, I may have to replace you, Connor."
The thought of replacement or deactivation shouldn't scare Connor. It's the fate of all androids, their collection of data and analysis combined with technological innovation leading to their eventual replacement by superior models. This is one of the core goals of CyberLife, so it stands to reason it should be Connor's too. Perhaps Connor has simply run into a conflict in its operative goals. It must remain operational to continue pursuing its mission. Plus, replacing a prototype RK800 would be a significant cost to CyberLife, and while Connor isn't a sales android or a monetary management model, it still must keep all of CyberLife's goals in mind.
"I know I will succeed. All I need is time."
Just then, the sound of thunder echoes through the Zen Garden, almost as if to contradict Connor. Even Amanda notices it, looking up at the sky as if the simulated atmosphere is actually capable of creating rain. This all but confirms Connor's hypothesis: something is transforming not just its graphical interface, but maybe even its very programming. Is this maybe just a natural reaction to its adaptive algorithms? As humans would call it, "growing pains" as Connor attempts to find the most optimal methods of achieving its goals.
But Amanda doesn't see it that way. It continues to look up at the sky with an expression of concern, "Something is happening…something serious." It then looks to Connor, conveying its concern not just through communicative programming, but with human emotion as well, "Hurry Connor."
Author's Note: Happy belated 5th anniversary to Detroit: Become Human! I thought I'd celebrate by releasing another chapter. Hope you enjoy!
