"If you prick us do we not bleed?"
Shylock, The Merchant of Venice
Reid and I show up late to the crime scene at the Stratford Tower. Between all the traffic, road closures, and swarms of press just outside, it was a nightmare getting here. The CSI team is already wrapping up, collecting the last of the samples and pictures. This is the first time I've ever been inside the Stratford Tower, a modest skyscraper in the middle of downtown. The crime scene is at the broadcast center on the highest floor, and Reid can hardly hold himself together in anticipation.
"This is where they film Channel 16! It's like going on a field trip, we'll get to see the inside of a real news station."
"I'm surprised you still watch TV at all. I certainly don't."
The elevator opens, and Hank is standing at the entrance, along with agents from the FBI. It makes sense that with crimes as serious as this the FBI would get involved, but Hank does not look happy about it one bit. There's one FBI agent in particular, a shorter one wearing a trenchcoat, who seems just as displeased as Hank is,
"Oh no, no, no. I'm not gonna have any more locals mucking up my crime scene."
Reid tries to come in earnestly, "We're not here to look at evidence. We're Mental Health Crisis Intervention. We're here to provide counseling to any Stratford employees in distress-"
"Ugh," the way the FBI agent rolls his eyes is akin to an annoyed teenager, "see what we have to have now? A whole police unit dedicated to 'Mental Health Crisis Intervention'. Everyone's gone soft, people can't handle normal problems anymore."
Hank takes a look around, bullet holes riddle the walls, and there's multiple other signs of struggle, "I don't know if I'd classify any of this as normal. There's some employees still in the broadcast center if you wanna talk to them-"
"My people are the ones questioning them!" the agent interrupts, "I told you to stay out of my way-"
Just then, Reid and I perk up as we hear a familiar voice in the broadcast room,
"Connor? Remember me? I was on that terrace. That android that took the little girl hostage...I was shot. You saved me…"
Reid breathes a sigh of relief, as he makes his way towards his brother. He finds him in conversation with Connor, and he looks surprised at his response.
"I remember you."
"I could have died on that terrace...but you saved my life. ...I never thought I'd say this to an android, but...thank you."
Reid stops just short of interrupting their conversation, waiting until Connor walks away to throw his arms around his brother.
"Marvin, my man! So good to see you're alright!"
"C'mon, c'mon, not too rough! I'm still in the middle of physical therapy and all that!"
Marvin was critically injured a few months ago during one of the first major incidents with a deviant android. Back then it seemed like a freak occurrence, now it's almost like there's a new case of deviancy every day.
I start walking over to join them, but before I can, the FBI agent in the trenchcoat stops me, "Hang on…you're Emma McMaghnuis, daughter of the CEO of Digital Harmony. What the hell are you doing being a police officer?"
A couple of the other officers and CSI personnel turn their heads. I've worked very hard to keep my life private, particularly my past. I'm not on social media at all anymore, and luckily I was never some kind of child star musician like Ember. I'm also lucky that someone like Detective Reed never went snooping around the internet to find out who I am. But standing here, having my identity announced to the entire crime scene, I honestly don't know how to respond.
With all their attention on me, I barely notice out of the corner of my eye one of the service androids start walking down the hall towards the elevator. I thought all the androids were quarantined in the kitchen, maybe they've been cleared to return to work?
"You know your family is still under investigation…I'm surprised they let you on the force."
I square up against the FBI agent, "That case belongs to the FBI, not the Detroit PD."
"Your family is hiding something, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it-"
"Perkins! That's enough!"
Hank gets between the FBI agent and myself, "The FBI can snoop around my case all it wants, but harassing officers-"
Just then, Connor, its shirt ripped open and covered in blue blood, runs up from the other side, "It's a deviant! Stop it!"
Before anyone can react, the deviant grabs one of the SWAT team's guns. Everyone runs for cover, everyone except Connor. Ripping one of the guns from the holster of an FBI agent, Connor fires multiple shots into the deviant until it falls to the ground. I'm amazed at Connor's precision and speed, its body moving in a manner unique to Connor, but going so fast no human could duplicate it. How it hands the gun back to the FBI agent is just as sterile and precise, perfectly within safety protocol and regulation. But there's something in its eyes, something hidden past its cold expression.
"Nice shot, Connor," Hank mumbles, also in shock.
"I wanted it alive." A true robot would have no reaction, even to an event as traumatic as this. But there's a scowl in its lips as it keeps its stance wide, leaning forward as if still ready to attack. Then there's the more obvious sign, its chest covered in blue android blood. What happened?
Hank turns to face Connor, "You saved human lives. You saved my life."
The look Connor returns Hank is distant at best, I even detect a hint of a grimace. Connor turns its head away in a direct, isolated fashion before walking away. Connor may be hard to read at times, but Hank's expression is clear as day. He's confused, relieved to have been saved, but wanting a more human response from his android partner. It's interesting, seeing Hank of all people projecting emotions onto an android. But then again, maybe he and I are the same in that way.
I get a strange text once we return to the police station. It's a local number, but not one I recognize.
"Storage room, basement level, parallel to parking lot entrance."
What the hell? I look around for Reid, but then I remember he stayed behind to catch up with his brother, and Hank is still at the Stratford Tower finishing up with CSI and now FBI agents.
I then try looking around for someone, anyone else to come with me as back-up. This could just be stupid Leo pulling some kind of stunt, or something more serious. An armed assailant, a bomb threat, the possibilities are endless and none of them are good.
My phone pings again, "This is Connor. Please, come alone."
Connor? How'd it get my number? How'd it send a text? I've never heard of police androids being able to communicate with people on their phones, except maybe to update shared crime databases. But I do all my updates on the computers, I don't have any work software on my phone. Maybe Connor got it from my police profile?
I make my way down to the basement level, making sure no one is around when I open the door to the storage closet. I don't know what I'm expecting to see, but Connor collapsed against a storage rack, blue blood running down its chest, certainly wasn't on my list.
"Emma, I need your help…"
I rush to him, all logic and higher thought fleeing my mind as my first responder instincts kick in, "What do you need me to do?"
"The deviant…it ripped out one of my core biocomponents. I was able to reattach it, but there's still leftover Thirium in my internal systems."
Connor moves away his jacket and what's left of his shirt, revealing a small area of visible metal in place of synthetic skin. Thirium bleeds from its borders, having now soaked his pants and parts of his jacket.
"How did no one notice this?" I ask, getting up to start collecting supplies.
Thankfully the storage closet has plenty of rags and gloves to start cleaning up the blue blood. But would I need alcohol to sterilize the wound? As far as I know, androids don't get infections from wounds like humans do, but Connor is basically suffering from the android equivalent of internal bleeding, so maybe he can't handle a certain amount of foreign contamination.
"I'm going to need you to remove the biocomponent again and clean the residual Thirium," Connor explains, "I can only survive for up to two minutes without it, so you'll need to work fast."
"What?! Connor, you're asking me to work faster than a heart surgeon. I'm not equipped to handle this, you need someone from CyberLife-"
He grips my arm, and his touch sends a jolt up my spine. My eyes flutter, losing focus for a brief moment as I feel a heat in my chest. There's always been a distance between Connor and I until now, I don't think we've ever even physically touched. Now he's putting his life in my hands, and there's something about the way he grips my arm, the way he looks into my eyes, something that implies he chose me for a reason.
"CyberLife would just replace me with another model. I need to complete my mission. Please, Emma."
I look into his eyes, small and dark but somehow full of life. Maybe it's just my emotions projected onto a piece of plastic, everything I've kept hidden deep down coming to the surface. But at this moment I see something in Connor. The will, no, the need to live.
I take off his jacket and strip off the rest of his shirt. Lying him down flat on the floor, I set a timer on my phone. Two minutes, I only have two minutes to do this. I can do this.
"Okay, Connor...are you ready?"
He tilts his head up, looking at me with a smile, "Ready."
Using one hand to keep his body steady, I start the timer. After memorizing exactly how the part needs to be placed in his body, I rip out the biocomponent with surprising ease, the part only giving slight resistance. It's a cylindrical glass container, with thick, twisting wires almost like a human organ. However, I notice something: there's a tear in one of the wires that slowly drips blue blood onto my palm.
I find a roll of duct tape and patch up the leak, but it's clearly not going to work as a permanent solution. One minute forty-five seconds left. I grab a rag and start digging into Connor's chest cavity, trying to work fast but also be mindful of his other biocomponents. I feel the edges of wires, glass, and plastic as I use the rags to absorb as much liquid as possible. One minute…
I think I'm about done when a loose pocket of Thirium bubbles up. Connor coughs, his body jerking upward. I have to resort to using both hands to keep him down until he stops. Forty seconds…
As I clean up the second round of blue blood, I realize I've been thinking of Connor as a person this whole time, even as I dig through mechanical components in its chest cavity. Does a will to live make Connor any less of a machine? Honestly I don't know, the answer is surely one of the farthest things from my mind.
With thirty seconds to spare, I finish cleaning the Thirium and push the biocomponent back into place. Connor is unresponsive, its LED swirling in shades of yellow and red. Oh no, did I do it wrong? I swore I placed it back exactly how I took it out. Did I damage it further? I'd placed it on a rag, did it fall over when I wasn't looking.
Connor coughs again, but this time it doesn't spit up blue blood, as it starts to stand. I breathe a sigh of relief, falling off of my knees and onto the floor.
"Okay, good news is most of that gunk out of you. The bad news is that the biocomponent is damaged. I was able to patch it up, but you might need to get it replaced."
Connor wipes off some residual blue blood from its lips and chin, and as I start to collect myself it hits me. I'm sitting across from Connor, who's not only completely shirtless, but its pants are also halfway down its waist and soaked in Thirium. Despite Connor's actual strength and speed, its chest has only the most basic of muscle definition, not even nipples. It's like its body was built to give the suggestion of humanity underneath its clothes, but take the clothes away, would this still be a person's body or a hollow piece of plastic?
"I've run a diagnostic. I can survive for a few more days, but you're right. I'll need my biocomponent replaced if I'm to continue my mission."
"Well, I can run to the CyberLife store after my shift-"
"I'm a prototype, Emma. My biocomponents aren't compatible with current market parts."
I think for a moment, then I remember, "My parents have a 3D printer, and I'm seeing them tonight! Connor, would you be able to give me the schematics for your biocomponent?"
It nods, still moving slower than usual. It looks down at itself, as if noticing its half-nakedness for the first time. I can't help but let out a little nervous laughter.
"Before that though, we should get you some clothes."
