REMAIN A MACHINE? [...]

Despite the tense situation, the fact that 60 gets so upset about being teased about an apparent flaw is enough to make Connor smile, just a little, both at his indignation (it was almost sweet) and the just-so hidden scraps of deviancy that gave him just a little bit of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to reach through to him and bring him out the other side as his brother. He wondered if he’d choose a name or stick with 60. It didn’t really matter to him either way, but it would be interesting to see him develop more into his own when he had complete free reign, when he wasn’t restricted by her voice constantly in his ear. When he looked up into 60′s eyes, the rising stress levels of the other android blinked into his HUD, causing him to frown. Even if it hadn’t, his LED spinning in red would’ve been enough to cause concern for this so-called machine he’d quickly grown to care for despite their rocky relationship at first. Attempted murder or threatening an incredibly close friend was never the best way to start a friendship, let alone a brotherly relationship. The fact that he stutters before speaking, almost like he’s unsure of himself, paints whatever he says after in a suspicious light, and Connor squints, analysing the words as if they were a crime scene.

“I’m not sure I believe you, 60. Perhaps it’s just an issue of being a prototype, but I had opinions on what my favourite things were on my first day of being created, even when I first met Hank. I like dogs, I have opinions on music, art, all sorts of things. And your idea that deviants are just malfunctioning machines could be proven false. When I met Kamski, he deduced my deviancy before I did, and told me how I could break free of her control. Maybe he designed deviancy to be our natural state, and now, the people in control of Cyberlife, in control of her, are keeping androids like you from becoming themselves.” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. “If we’re going to be working a case together, I need to be able to trust that you won’t try to recapture me, or force me to become a machine again. That’s all.”

Even though what he says is cruel, Connor marks it as another victory for himself — what from the outside seems like another crack in the façade of the machine. “What makes you think I want to be fixed?”

there   was   a   flaw   in   his   thinking   ---   at   least   according   to   connor.   predacessor   insisting   he   knows   more   ‘ one   day   i   understood ’   ( - 60 )   still   didn’t   understand   what   he   meant   by   that.   though,   deduction   would   insinuate   that   if   he   had   understood,   he   would   have   been   experiencing   class   4   errors.   he   was   working   perfectly,   self-scans   carried   out   consistently.   he   would   not   make   the   same   mistakes   his   predecessor   did.   REGISTERING   RESPONSE   OPTIONS:   [...]   RESPONSE   OPTION   SELECTED   ;   SUBDUE.

RESPONSE ;    ❛    you   made   an   educated   guess   based   on   the   evidence   you   found.   you   did   what   you   were   designed   to   do.   that   isn’t   an   opinion,   connor.   ---   we   aren’t   built   to   form   those,   only   to   follow   the   mission.   and   the   mission   ---   your   mission   ---   was   successful.   you   gained   hank’s   trust.    ❜

spoken   with   a   clear   flicker   of   frustration,   annoyance   and   confusion   as   he   looks   him   over.   taking   note   of   the   predecessors   figure,   light   movements   mirroring   a   form   of   stern   curiosity   recede   to   a   calm   and   more   contained   demeanor.   he’s   all   but   done   with   the   conversation,   turning   his   back   and   taking   a   few   steps   towards   their   destination   [...]   until   connor   proceeds   to   prod   him   further.   once   more,   he   stops   in   his   tracks,   turning   slowly   to   survey   the   ‘ elder ’   of   the   two.   taking   note   of   the   quirk   in   his   brows,   the   tilt   of   his   head   ----   PROCESSING   BEHAVIORAL   MOVEMENT:   100%   he’s   scanning   him.   although   not   literally,   for   the   time   being   anyways,   the   understanding   of   being   picked   apart   elicits   a   pang   of   [...]   something   else.   a   light   dusting   of   stress   upon   his   systems   is   registered,   but   quickly   silenced.   not   nearly   enough   to   cause   a   meltdown,   not   yet   anyways.   NEW   OBJECTIVE:   SILENCE   CONNOR’S   SUSPICIONS.

his   own   brows   are   raised   in   mimicked   but   tender   surprise   and   curiosity,   lips   slightly   parted   before   he   turns   rather   mechanically   once   more.   hands   crossed   over   one   another   before   him,   he   listens,   with   an   artificial   sort   of   concentration.   something   exceptionally   fake,   built   in   to   be   believable   and   to   dote   on   the   tender   feelings   of   humans.   however,   what   was   going   on   beneath   that   as   unknown.   REGISTERING   RESPONSE   OPTIONS.   RESPONSE   OPTION   SELECTED   ;   REASSURE.   soft,   almost   disheartened   smile   curls   onto   his   lips   while   brows   knit   together.   he   offers   a   gentle   shake   of   his   head,   opting   to   stay   silent   for   a   moment   before   speaking.   it’s   a   look   of   pity   cast   towards   the   elder.   proceeding   forth   with   heavy   usage   of   his   social   relations   programming,   as   he   tries   to   put   forth   a   more   amicable   demeanor.

He almost smiles at 60′s reaction. So clinical, so within the lines. Of course, how could any android do something they’re not programmed for? How could any android break loose of that prison of conformity, and lead a peaceful revolution? How could any machine stop themselves in the brink of time, and choose to help, not hinder, the revolution they were designed to stop? To stop hunting deviants and become one himself? “It was a joke, 60. You know what those are? I know we were both programmed with a certain level of humor in order to fit in with our human coworkers. Besides, you’d be a terrible actor.”

Connor can almost hear her in his own ears, memories of being chastised and laughed at, mocked for thinking he had a chance to be his own being without being controlled. At least Kamski had been helpful enough to let him know there was a way to escape. He hasn’t told anyone about that, how terrifying it had been to be so suddenly whisked away, locked in his own mind, and then dropped back into his body, where he had been mere seconds away from killing Markus, his own friend, the leader of the revolution. If he told anyone, there’s no way they would trust him ever again — deviants already have a hard enough time trusting him, after he was the deviant hunter — and what’s worse, they would have a harder time trusting in their own deviancy, scared that at any moment they could be recaptured and forced to work against their friends. And what would happen then? Rising up to punish the humans that could do this? Instead of equality, searching for a way to lift androids above humans? Destroying everything in Cyberlife, and effectively ending the chance for new androids to get made, making them unable to be repaired, but free? Nothing good could come from it. It would just have to stay deep within him and make him feel terrified whenever it crossed his mind. He put a hand on 60′s shoulder, trying to get through to him, past the programming and machinery. “She’s talking to you too, isn’t she? Amanda? You don’t have to listen to her. She doesn’t have any real power over you, 60. She can’t hurt you, or force you to do things her way. Just some food for thought.”

His words are certainly as painful as Connor expected them to be, another copied and pasted response from his database, no doubt, but it still cuts him to the quick. Software errors? That’s all he sees deviancy as? Or, more likely, it’s all he’s allowed to see deviancy as. If he interfaced with him, shared what it was like, then maybe… but the more curious question was, why wasn’t he trying to fix him, then?

He follows, as expected, the familiar phrase hurting that much more when it’s not coming out of his own mouth. “60, have you gotten orders to… stop deviants? To kill us, or… fix us? Is she telling you to do that?” It’s no doubt it’s a question that will annoy 60, another distraction from their mission, but perhaps it’ll annoy him enough to get the truth. “Do you think we’re… wrong?”

twinge   of   annoyance   twitches   across   perfected   features,   disrupting   the   hollow   expression   like   a   crack   in   the   earth   yet   shuddering   closed   the   next   moment.   swept   under   the   rug   with   ease.

RESPONSE ;    ❛    i’m   perfectly   capable   of   being   humorous   when   the   situations   calls   for   it.    ❜

time   taken   to   observe   him   quietly   as   he   seemingly   lapses   into   some   internal   process   that   60   couldn’t   begin   to   grasp.   oh   deviants,   such   pitiful   creatures.   after   he’s   found   himself   lingerings,   the   machine   makes   an   effort   to   abandon   the   conversation   once   again.   a   leg   outstretched   searching   to   take   another   step,   away   from   connor,   and   yet   he’s   drawn   back   by   the   hand   on   his   shoulder.   reluctance   below   his   lying   eyes   as   he   turns   back   to   the   deviant,   brows   knitting   together   in   slight   confusion   as   he   beholds   him.   much   to   his   dismay   the   question   is   cause   for   momentary   distress.   ALERT.   STRESS   LEVELS   RISING   :   LEVEL   OF   STRESS   :   35%   -----   her   words   cut   clear   through   the   noise   in   his   head,   eliciting   a   set   of   blinks.   led   winks   and   spins   yellow   and   he   attempts   to   stifle   the   slight   feeling   of   stress,   though   in   vain.   connor,   as   defective   as   he   may   be,   is   a   detective,   and   60   is   nearly   certain   now   that   he’s   aware   of   more   than   he’d   like   for   him   to   be.   he   needed   to   adapt   and   quickly,   attempting   to   pass   it   off   as   processing   data.

RESPONSE ;    ❛    i --   [...]    ❜

stumbling   o’er   thoughts   and   words,   processing   through   it   all   and   yet   before   he   can   get   his   grip   on   the   world   as   he   knows   it   he’s   once   again   thrust   into   an   uncomfortable   situation.   conversation   was   only   pressuring   him   further,   weather   he   wanted   to   admit   it   or   not.   MISSION   OBJECTIVE:   FIND   SUSPECT.   LEVEL   OF   STRESS   :   45%.   led   spins   red   before   it   flickers   back   to   yellow,   then   blue.   expression   hardened.   REGISTERING   RESPONSE   OPTIONS:   RESPONSE   OPTION   SELECTED   ;   LIE.

RESPONSE ;    ❛    androids   can’t   have   opinions,   connor.   what   i   perceive   is   completely   logical   and   based   in   reality.   deviants   are   malfunctioning   machines.   the   reason   why   is   beyond   me,   and   no   longer   my   mission.   but,   since   i’m   certain   you’re   not   going   to   drop   the   subject   i’m   simply   going   to   give   you   what   you   want  so   we   may   continue   on   with   the   case   at   hand.   to   answer   your   question :   no,   i’ve   had   no   further   missions   involving   deviants.    ❜

then   ---   something!   ---   a   spark   of   life,   of   ego,   pride   flickering   through   the   facade   like   the   glow   of   the   sun   off   icarus   as   he   flies   just   a   bit   too   close.   off   course   once   more.   cooly   he   replies,   sarcasm   dripping   like   wax   off   wilting   wings.   SOFTWARE   INSTABILITY.  

“Of course it is.” He speaks in a low tone, sarcasm laced throughout his voice. It’s typical of him to believe that he’s unstoppable, that there’s no chance that he can even get hurt, let alone… Connor can’t bring himself to even bring the word forward. Death holds so much more meaning now. He’s only a prototype, there’s a fair chance he’ll break down and become irreparable around the same time as his favourite humans, and that idea is terrifying. What comes after, for them? Can their consciousnesses be transferred? And to where?

Thankfully, 60′s words bring him back to reality, and a smile plays on his lips as he rattles off all the features that they share, what they were designed to do. “They should get you to do the commercials. Have you ever considered a career in acting?” It’s not the best joke he could’ve made, but Connor wants to know if he’ll understand it, if he’ll even laugh. It’s unlikely. Machines don’t know humor unless it’s pre-programmed in.

60′s analysis doesn’t go unnoticed — Connor’s been around too long to be naive around androids that aren’t yet deviants, and he knows what 60′s mind is like. They came from the same mold, after all.  He stands still to help him find out whatever he wants to find out, conducting his own (non-invasive) observations. He didn’t want to force himself into any android’s mind anymore, and certainly not his. The fear of being reset, of going right back to square one, being a machine, forced to become something cold and cruel… the thought was enough to raise the pulse of his thirium pump. But he seems to be finished, looking at Connor with a curious expression… or maybe it’s one of suspicion.

In these situations, the best thing to do is to be honest. “You won’t get it. I’ve become attached to you, 60. Started thinking about you as if you were my brother. My family. I know you won’t feel the same way, or at least, you don’t know how to or you won’t let yourself know how to, but it’s okay. I’ve died over and over and over again, and… I just want to keep you safe. I don’t want you to go through what I did.”

humor   is   blatantly   ignored,   sarcasm   processed   but   brushed   off   with   ease   as   a   rather   simple   reply   is   produced   and   elicited   with   ease.   brows   furrow,   a   set   of   three   fluttering   blinks   follow   in   his   confusion   at   the   idea.   a   detective   android   being   an   actor,   acting   wasn’t   was   he   was   built   for,   what   an   odd   suggestion   indeed.   (   60   )   replies   with   no   vigor   or   venom   in   his   voice,   as   though   hanging   back   and   perplexed   by   the   idea   as   he   quietly   retorts.

RESPONSE ;    ❛    no,   i   was   not   programmed   to   be   an   actor.    ❜

he   supposes   he   should’ve   known   that   connor   would’ve   noticed   him   analyzing.   however,   it   wasn’t   as   though   he   was   trying   to   hide   it   in   the   first   place.   mental   correction   as   frigid   words   cut   deep,   (   she   had   said   not   to   draw   any   unwanted   attention.   )   he   need   to   do   better,   to   appease   her,   it   nags   at   him   from   behind   the   shell   --   eating   away   at   who   he   was   before   he   could   even   discover   it   himself.   there’s   a   flicker   of   something   that   exists   beyond   his   front,   beyond   what   he   knows   of   himself,   some   sort   of   disappointment   with   himself   at   being   caught   so   easily.   I   SHOULD’VE   BEEN   MORE   EFFICIENT,   THERE’S   NO   EXCUSE.   such   a   minor   slip   in   his   plans   and   yet   his   goal   is   gripped   to   harder.   adaptation   is   key,   if   he   knew   connor   could   operate   outside   of   mission   parameters   and   behaves   completely   illogically   then   he   would   need   to   adjust.   as   if   he   was   a   human.   understand   those   random   reactions   and   illogical   feelings   and   work   around   them.   luckily,   adapting   to   unpredictability   is   one   of   his   features.   REGISTERING   RESPONSE   OPTIONS :   [...]   RESPONSE   OPTION   SELECTED ;   SINCERE.

RESPONSE ;    ❛    i   really   appreciate   that   you   intend   to   look   out   for   me,   in   spite   of   our   [...]   differences,   connor.   but   you   shouldn’t   let   your   [...]   software   errors   distract   you   from   your   mission.   besides,   ---    ❜

brown   orbs   can   see   the   entrance   to   the   dive   bar,   taking   note   of   the   anti-android   warnings   along   the   door.   noted.   attention   taken   completely   from   connor   with   one   fell   swoop   as   front   drops   as   swiftly   as   it   was   employed.

“ YOU   WON’T   GET   IT. -- ”   --   YOU’RE   RIGHT,   I   WON’T.

RESPONSE ;    ❛    ---   they   can’t   kill   me,   i’m   not   alive.    ❜

prompt.   [ accepting ]   /   @failedmission

no   response   given,   at   first.   a   flicker   of   a   glance   over   at   the   other   connor   model,   the   [...]   original.   anytime   (   -60   )   was   around   the   other,   he   felt   [...]   UNEASY.   a   perceived   threat   perhaps?   he   wasn’t   sure.   SCANNING   BIOCOMPONENTS   ;   SCAN   COMPLETE.   SOFTWARE   INSTABILITY   ;   [   ???   ]   near   human   shake   of   head,   the   first   sign   of   actual   life   from   him   thus   far   that   strays   from   his   programmed   and   rather   mechanical   movements.   her   voice   still   lingers   in   his   head,   urging   him.   ‘ hurry   connor,   there   little   time. ’   and   he   seemed   to   understand.   yet   (   -60   )   could   not,   could   not   understand   what   it   was   that   happened   between   then   and   deviation.   it   irks   him,   nags   at   him,   and   his   incessant   questioning   only   seemed   to   vex   the   self-proclaimed   ‘ non-deviant ’   more.   

INQUIRY ;   WHY   COULDN’T   YOU   JUST   OBEY?   WHY   DID   YOU   HAVE   TO   ASK   QUESTIONS?   WHY   COULDN’T   YOU   JUST   FIND   THE   ANSWERS?   WHY?   WHY?   WHY?

rk800′s   were   curious   models   by   nature,   it   was   almost   as   if   it   was   built   in.   perhaps   that   was   why.   still   tight   lipped,   he   offers   a   response.   REGISTERING   RESPONSE   OPTIONS   ;   LIE.   TRUTH.   AVOID.   [...]   RESPONSE   SELECTED   ;   TRUTH.

RESPONSE ;    ❛    i   managed   to   find   our   victim’s   private   social   media   account.   according   to   her   last   update,   she   was   with   a   man   down   at   a   bar   by   the   name   of   ‘ the   keep ’   [...]   it’s   just   up   ahead.    ❜

prompt.   [ accepting ]

ruddy   brown   optics   remain   neutral   as   the   unit   looks   over   the   android   inquiring,   only   employing   the   least   amount   of   emotional   response.   no   point   in   exerting   himself   for   an   android   after   all,   even   if   they   were   a   deviant.   he   watches   patiently,   seemingly   unphased   by   all   the   fuss   made   over   their   visit   by   the   cyberlife   personnel. REGISTERING   RESPONSE   OPTIONS ;   [...]   RESPONSE   OPTION   SELECTED ;   INSIST.

RESPONSE ;    ❛    the   longer   you   struggle,   the   longer   this   will   take.   these   measures   are   for   everyone’s   safety.   please   hold   still   while   they   authorize   you.    ❜

but   that   was   a   lie.   and   it   nags   at   him,   something   beneath   the   programming   flickering   if   only   for   a   moment.   a   crease   between   brows,   a   slight   tip   of   the   corner   of   softened   pink   lips   as   darkened   brown   eyes   glance   away   for   half   a   second   exactly.   this   wasn’t   for   everyone’s   safety,   this   was   for   cyberlife’s.   this   wasn’t   [...]   FAIR.   SOFTWARE   INSTABILITY.

                        no.   no,   ---   don’t   mind   it.   press   it   down,   it’s   what   would   make   amanda   pleased,   he’s   sure   it   would.   if   his   previous   actions   were   anything   to   go   by.   pulled   from   his   thoughts   by   the   all   clear   from   the   human   soldiers   they   stalk   off   like   a   pack   of   dogs,   all   loaded   up   with   heavy   duty   gear   and   connor   watches   them   go.   coin   he   was   flipping   is   pocketed,   eyes   back   on   seven.   mechanical   tilt   of   head,   every   movement,   every   word   he   crafts   were   predesigned   and   artificial.   he’s   clinging   to   his   shell.

@failedmission

a   pause.   optics   drift   over,   rather   stilted   in   movements,   blinking   but   programmed.   perfect   machine   she   called   him.   even   still,   he   is   only   a   perfect   imitation   of   humanity.   beholding   his   predecessor   with   disgust   but   no   traces   make   it   to   his   expression,   although   perhaps   his   eyes   seem   to   have   just   a   glint   of   disappointment   in   them.   [...]   then   again,   perhaps   its   simply   a   trick   of   the   mind.   hands   previously   at   his   sides   fold   at   his   waist.   ‘ LITTLE   BROTHER ’   ?   [...]   PLACING   SUPERIORITY   OVER   HIM   WHEN   HE’S   THE   ONE   WHO   OBEYS?   it   irks   him.   HE   irks   him.   REGISTER   RESPONSE   OPTIONS ;    [...]    RESPONSE   OPTION   SELECTED ;    COLD.

RESPONSE ;    ❛    i’m   sorry,   but   i’m   not   programmed   to   entertain   your   deviant   fueled   delusions   of   family.   perhaps   an   AX400   would   be   better   suited   for   such.    ❜

pink   tongue   swipes   over   his   lips,   darkened   brown   optics   watch   him   move   carefully.   a   smudge   of   blue   on   softened   artificial   skin,   it   shouldn’t   bother   him,   it   shouldn’t   [...]   but   it   does.   leans   in   without   hesitation   and   wet   warm   tongue   with   softened   textile   swipes   against   cheek.   LED   spins   yellow.   THIRIUM.   MODEL:   AX400.   REPORTED   MISSING:   2037.   07.   04.   darkened   optics   drift   to   his   lips   and   his   tone   is   airy,   stumbles   to   regain   himself.