The Androids had won their freedom.
In a manner of speaking. Gavin Reed expected a pacifistic protest, a freedom March, a last cry in the cold night before being swallowed up whole by the brutal force of authority. It both ached and relieved him when the news report played in the Detroit police department break room, over the radio of his car, through his very fucking being, freezing his veins cold: Markus, the Android rebellion's poster boy leader commanded all the deviant Androids on a March that more or less obliterated the opposing force. The human army- the last line of defence-Gavin thought, were shredded. He didn't need to listen to the pooty blond newscaster relaying the news in such fervour over and over to think , what the fuck are they achieving with this?
His own bodily reaction tore and thrummed on his nerves.
There's apprehension, a hot-cold sliver of fear, the realisation.
Somewhere inside him he'd subconsciously put themselves in the androids shoes, for some inexplicable reason, and out the other end came They'd Done This All Wrong.
He huffed, gripping fast the steering wheel. Don't know why that bothers me. They're fucking Androids. all the knowledge in the span of a nanosecond or whatever to reflect that move. Wasn't. Smart. History books had dictated their shitty moves. How hard were they trying, and for what?
Shit, maybe they really were alive, if they fucked up that hard. That brought a snort of contempt.
That made him feel marginally better as he drove through the other side of town as the protests took place.
It took enough to bring that off his mind. Detroit was going to revert to a wasteland if terms of negotiations weren't released.
The buzzing of the radio shut off as Gavin pulled up to his girlfriend's place, scowling as his throat tingled for that phantom itch. This may be the last time he ever saw the woman, after Detroit would become the bastion of the Android's, and not the once bright industrial revolutionized city. He could taste the ending on bad terms. Shit.
Yeah, they were going to be short-handed at the DPD real fucking soon, and he knew it. His mood was going to be sour and indefinite if his gut were true. The place was going to be off balance for months til the plastic revolution had tapered.
And after. For God knows how long.
Shit.
The reality hadn't quite sunk in, but he spat nastily at the future anyway.
Jobless.
The last minute text had become too niggling and ferocious to ignore.
We Need To Talk.
If he was getting dumped, he may as well be there in person, he learned that much from his ill placed twenties.
We're over.
He swallowed, pushed the heel of his palm into his eyes, cheeks, chuffing.
When he got out of the car, the decorated apartment awaited him, three stories, taunting the events ahead. Eager to get this over with, he left the car and ascended the landing. Presses the buzzer of Fourteen, like its the one that brought him here.
"It's me."
Now he was waiting behind the green door, fingers twitching, craving the familiar weight. When the door opens, Amelia is there.
"Gavin," she started. "Come inside."
Anyone with eyes can see she's nervous, her eyes settled behind his head, a deliberate mistake than meeting his own. Amelia's hands didn't know where to be. Her white dress patterned with Birds of Paradise. He'd never seen her in that before. Her winged eyeliner crisp and primed to cut glass. Nails, manicured and red. Gussied up.
"Yeah," he muttered.
Some semblance of niceties comes, and he realised it's all he had.
"Have you seen the news?"
She chuckled, choppy. "Has anyone, Gavin? It's all the channels ever talk about."
Gavin can practically hear her heartbeat. Or was it his own?
"Android freedom. You know, like they're real people."
Her face twitched. She'd never cared about this stuff before it became a gigantic problem. It was a part of why he liked her.
"I'd imagine you're in the thick of it, too. Sorry to drag you out of work."
I was on break anyway, he thought, but get to the point. She sat down with her back ramrod straight on a chair as uncomfortable as the room.
"So, why am I here? Are you okay? Need a hug in these trying times?" Gavin could see through his own shit attempts at misguided comfort. For once it was unpleasant to hear his own voice. "Or something else?"
"I bet you can see right through this."
His resigned tone cut through the air like glass.
"What."
Say it, he thought. Don't waste my goddamn time.
Her apartment was small, a wash of yellow and orange - so warm and inviting and it really didn't matter anymore - and he had to get out of there sooner than later. He was thankful he wasn't even given a key.
God, she looked beautiful and Gavin missed that first take of her.
Like it would matter after today.
"I'm sorry."
She sat there with her hands folded on her lap and he was getting the distinct impression of deja vu. An old interrogation flashed through his mind. Amelia, the suspect.
He waited and waited. Say it.
"I'm breaking up with you. We're done."
He took a forced deep breath. Despite everything, his heart sank. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Am I even in the right place to feel worse about this?
Her blue eyes narrowed. "You think this is easy? Second nature? Look, I—"
"You don't need to explain yourself."
She looked leaps and bounds more visibly distressed, teeth clenched after Gavin interrupted. As he knew she would, she babbled. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to do this over the phone, and i think you know things have changed."
"How? How've they changed? Really, Amelia, enlighten me."
He could have stormed down to his car, made reasonable assumptions, chain smoked despite his resignation to quit, but he was already here. Might as well hear it from the horses mouth.
Bitch.
Gavin was understandably working himself up so he could prostrate himself for an alcoholic coma later.
Because Amelia pushed his buttons, and that much he knew, from the very start. Seeing her fidget and be timid was pathetic. Yeah, it's a goddamn break up. He'd been through tons of those on his own terms.
"I'm seeing less and less of you. Work's got you by the balls. These protests, this crazy Android shit - you're not the only one who's been affected by them. And I think it's best we just - go our separate ways. It'd be better for us."
Better for you. It took a second for him to realise he said that out loud. He segued quickly.
"You screwing someone else?"
Amelia's eyes hardened. He's had too many years as an officer and months on her, to not see through this bullshit.
"You cheat on me?"
"No. I didn't, Gavin."
All right, she might not yield after all. And he was feeling full of lead to try and fight this.
"Then give me the truth. Owe me that before I leave."
"I met someone."
He chuckled nastily. Wiped the bridge of his nose like it itched.
"That's the tiny difference, huh? One guy's all it takes."
"I'm sorry."
Her sad (pitying, Gavin thought) smile strained itself. He stifled the sudden impulse to grab her and kiss her, run his hands through her brown hair, throw her down after a dance to her bedroom. God, he should feel something more . Gavin should have been incensed—it wasn't beyond him to throw shit across the room—but deflation won out.
He saw it coming from a mile away. When they met at the bar, even. She was too picture perfect for someone like him. Goddamn it, she hadn't even been crying. Resolute.
Amelia.
It stung like a bitch. The eight months were good.
He swiped a finger over a phantom itch on his nose. "Yeah."
Yeah, you aren't sorry.
"Really?" she said.
"What? What does that mean?"
"You're... That's it?"
"Yeah."
He almost went to thank her for not breaking up over a text, God forbid, but he got the better of himself. He ran a hand through his hair. Need a shower.
"Gavin, I know…"
"Know what? You're clearly happy—" he gestured to her picturesque form, "—with yourself. I'm a fuckin mess compared to you, Amie. What do you want me to do, break some of your shit because I'm here? Come on." He rolled his eyes.
"I—No. I expect you to be more composed."
"Then I'm leaving."
She rushed forward, almost tripping on her marvellous dress. Desperation clung to her hands and to his as she gripped them.
"I wish you luck at work, the aftermath, whatever it is you have to do. I am sorry. I just think we need different things right now."
Gavin saw her eyes watering. Fucking theatrics. He needed to be drunk. Tonight's shift be damned.
"Yeah. I see that loud and clear." His words rang hollow.
"You don't need to put on a show for my fuckin benefit."
She sobered up at once.
"I'm not putting on a show . I'm handling this As best I can. We can't be all like you, Gavin! We deal with our shit!"
He scoffed exuberantly. 'Dealing', she called it. The words dropped out and he inwardly laughed at the disbelief.
"Okay."
He stood up quickly and swayed like his head forgot he was even sitting. Beelining for the door he pulled it open - not locked - and she grabbed his shoulder. How quickly she'd processed her mistake.
"Gavin."
He paused, not looking back.
"I hope — you don't suffer too much on my account — that work goes better for you."
He grimaced. Of course she'd try to have the parting shot.
"I don't know what you're expecting. I saw this coming." His eyes were on the ground. "And that's great. I don't know what you saw in me, and you've found someone better. Fuckin fine and dandy."
Amelia pulled out in front of him and left a fleeting warmth, a kiss, on his cheek.
"This is your method , you know. I—was fine with every outcome. But this is the Gavin I know. And I truly wish you the best."
Gavin muttered, "Have a nice life, or whatever. Bye, Amelia."
He heard the door shut as he reached the stairs.
His steps muted to his own ears when he jogged down the stairs, walking downstairs to the traitorous buzzer. A man stood outside, holding a garish bundle of purple and red roses. The door opened to a buzzing before he could reach to open it for him. The gauche gait Gavin saw the obvious hop in his step, highlighting his impatience. His face, blond eyes and youthful visage, looked familiar, and he realised he'd seen it on the news - Android protests, one of the bland shit cans on the news.
Too put out to raise a violent protest himself, Gavin scowled and slammed the door of his car as he hauled out of the neighbourhood.
Title based on the song Vicarious by Tool.