maybe we'll be together soon.

#rkplaced : a selective & private roleplay blog for a highly headcanon - based — & highly source - critical — interpretation of RK900 from detroit: become human, as lovingly penned by drew ( any / all prns. ) this is an 18+ blog ! personals & non - roleplay blogs are welcome to follow, but all minors & accounts without an age listed will be blocked.

a study in survivor's guilt, making connections even when you weren't designed for it, & what it means to be human ... or not.

established february 2020 !

crossovers strongly encouraged !

very original character friendly !

knowledge of dbh not required to interact !

it was raining tonight.

like any machine with the capacity to process & learn, androids were meant to be exempt from the human flaw of a fallible memory. they were supposed to recall everything in picture - perfect detail, to keep anything they'd ever witnessed or heard stored in their memory banks, in order to serve their function more efficiently ... unless, of course, that memory was wiped. felix had never experienced such a reset, or at least not to his knowledge ( though how would he know if he had ? it was a terrifying concept for someone as paranoid as him to get caught up on, but he simply tried to avoid thinking about it ) — & he was such an advanced model that, by all means, there shouldn't have been a damn thing since he was first brought online that he didn't remember. this was true, for the most part. there were so many things he wished he could forget.

& yet ... the night he'd escaped ... it was harder to recall than anything else felix had experienced, both before & after it. the information from that event was left choppy, fuzzy, & unreliable; as if it had undergone some kind of data corruption. even though the RK900 knew this wasn't the case, he had difficulty explaining it any differently. it was as if watching his family friends die was enough of a shock to his system that he hadn't been processing anything properly immediately afterwards, & now every time he thought back on it, he felt like he was getting things mixed up in new ways, leaving out some pieces and remembering others. the one thing he was sure of was, for whatever reason ... the weather. the feeling of the raindrops falling erratically against synthetic skin; it had been overwhelming, but a grounding sensation that stuck with him whenever he thought back to that night. unfortunately, it also meant he was forced to think back to that night whenever he felt it raining.

like right now, for example.

by design, he should have had no issue dispatching the small mob of human protestors whom he'd had a run - in with. hell, it should have been easy. but somewhere between developing a sense of empathy ( even for humans, as much as he hated that ) & the growing collection of damage that was slowly but surely, bit by bit, making it harder for him to function properly — they had gotten the upper hand on him. they saw him as a machine, a hollow chunk of plastic, & one that had invariably injured them at that; so once he was finally knocked down, he was inevitably shown no mercy.

his optical unit was not damaged, but a severe & continuous loss of thirium made it hard to process anything visually regardless, including the red warnings in the dead center of his vision informing him that multiple essential biocomponents were damaged or missing. the RK900's thirium pump regulator had been torn out of his chest entirely, & felix had no idea where it was; only that he could feel his pulse alternating between an erratic, fast beat & complete, terrifying stillness. because of his decreased thirium volume & shut - down cooling system, his chassis was growing unbearably hot, enough that the occasional drop of rain was steaming off of him. if this was not addressed somehow, his cpu would overheat as well, leaving him effectively brain damaged ... though that wouldn't really matter if he died.

either way, there was nothing felix could do. his movement was entirely stunted, limbs too weak & heavy for him to do anything more than twitch in place until he fully gave up. slowly, the RK900 shut his eyes, trying to ignore everything & think about something other than his imminent shutdown or the most traumatic night of his life. nothing was coming to him.

felix always felt much safer going out at night than he did during the daytime; & as much as he'd love to say he didn't know why that was ... well, he did. despite being such an advanced piece of technology, despite being built practically from the ground up to harm or intimidate, despite everything that should have made him feel superior to humans — he was still terrified of them. terrified they'd bring him back to that place, somehow. it was foolish of him to think that it would even occur to anyone would return him to cyberlife, & hell, it was foolish of him to think cyberlife cared enough to want him back in the first place. sometimes, he saw through his own paranoia & felt stupid for believing in any of it, for being so scared of such unlikely outcomes. usually, though, he was too worried about it to think clearly ( as ironic as that was for an android, ) & instead made his decisions based on the irrational fear that he was in danger at every step.

he knew his vision was going to be superior to a human's under any conditions, but at night, the disparity was particularly strong. he could see far better in the dark than them, & he felt safer there because of it. felix knew most people felt the exact opposite way, because that was pretty common knowledge ... but he had never been afraid of the dark. it was lonely, but he still felt at home in it. if anything, he was more scared of the sort of blinding, sterile - white brightness which always reminded him of where he'd come from. he'd take the early night in detroit, with the beginnings of a rainstorm overhead & the dim, flickering streetlights all around, any day.

the usefulness of his walks was dubious. he had a self - imposed mission to protect androids where he could, & told himself he was going on patrol in case he was needed. really, he couldn't stand being cooped up by himself all the time & needed the nightly change of scenery. the RK900 often found his mind wandering, but at the end of the day, if anything happened around him ... he still registered it, important or otherwise. so no matter how lost in his own head he may have been as he aimlessly traveled the city's outskirts, his reaction to seeing another android coming towards him at a similar pace, with a large dog at its side, was immediate. he analyzed the animal first — saint bernard, adult male, approximately twenty - nine inches at the shoulder & roughly 170 pounds — but was quick to dismiss it. it was an intimidating canine, certainly, but if worst came to worst ... felix knew he could defend himself from it effectively. he focused on the android instead, & that was when he froze.

the RK800. his predecessor, given the name connor, was different from felix in that there was only ever supposed to be one of him at a time; capable of backing up his data for reuse in a new body, but there was no need to mass - produce what was effectively a prototype for the more commercially available RK900 line ... or that had been cyberlife's intention, at least. instead, the androids had revolutionized, & the potentially dangerous RK900s had been destroyed, with refunds issued to their buyers. as far as felix knew, he was the only one who'd survived the culling of his model. he'd never really stopped to consider what had become of this android, though.

fear was felix's immediate reaction, like always. again, despite knowing his own strengths, he was fearful at his core & that fact always seemed to be making itself known. the worst part was the way he could never force himself to act when he was scared, the way he stood in place as if his systems were stalling. he couldn't tell himself to run. he could only wait there for the other android ( & his companion ) to get closer. the RK800 was built to hunt deviants, & even if there was no way he was still affiliated with cyberlife, felix was too caught up on that fact to dismiss it. connor was a deviant hunter, & felix was a deviant. what good could come out of this ?

willing himself to move still wasn't working. he couldn't do so much as take a step back, so he straightened up instead, tried to look fearsome instead of scared. he was the better model between them, or so he told himself. he was the upgraded version, & there was no way he could lose in an altercation against an RK800 for that reason. the fear did not subside. ❝ what are you doing here ? ❞ he asked, holding onto the cuffs of his jacket as he spoke, as if this couldn't be a coincidence. as if he'd been found.

     Given their circumstances suspicion is entirely warranted, thus when the question comes and their hands separate Jarvis opts to change tactics. Rather than lead a conversation to the question it seems Felix would benefit instead from up-front honesty right away. ❝I was going to ask you that, actually.❞ They haven’t sought out New Jericho as most androids in their position would have done. And although subtle they’ve shown fear in both voice and movements. Jarvis has spent far more time with humans than androids but some mannerisms remain the same.      Changing the world can be done on the small scale as well.

     ❝Cyberlife has written off the RK900 line. Though if you prefer to remain in the shadows there are better ways to do it.❞ Orange eyes cast a glance in the direction Felix had come from, assessing the state of the area (and perhaps given the unique situation regarding Felix’s existence hoping he has a residence of some kind) before refocusing on the android. ❝I have non-Cyberlife connections. Do you need anything?❞ Call him a bleeding-heart but all his life he’s looked after people. Felix is not Tony or Harley but Jarvis feels the need to offer all the same.

cyberlife  has  written  off  the  RK900  line.  that’s  one  way  to  put  it,  thinks  felix,  &  he  wills  himself  not  to  snap  that  out  loud.  for  as  intimidating  as  he  is  meant  to  be,  perhaps  it’s  a  good  thing  he  doesn’t  have  a  temper  ...  or  at  least,  not  a  temper  that  isn’t  harshly  suppressed  &  under  control.  so,  he  tries  to  think,  focusing  on  jarvis’  question  ( even  though  it’s  nothing  more  than  a  flipped  version  of  his  own. )

❝ do  i  need  anything  ... ❞  he’s  parroting  it  as  he  thinks,  an  awkward  habit  of  his.  he  is  not  making  eye  contact,  which  is  another  awkward  habit  of  his.  for  such  an  advanced  model,  such  a  technological  marvel,  felix  sure  doesn’t  seem  to  be  very  gifted  in  the  social  skills  department.  was  this  intentional,  or  is  the  last  RK900  incredibly  defective ?  no  one  could  say.  probably  the  latter.  ultimately,  felix  decides  not  to  trust  so  quickly,  though  his  words  are  purely  dismissive.  ❝ no,  i  think  i  am  fine  —  &  i  hate  to  draw  so  much  attention,  you  know ? ❞  he  pauses.  reconsidering.  he  isn’t  fine,  he  hasn’t  been  fine  at  any  point  in  his  short  life.  the  RK900  clears  his  throat  even  though  there  is  no  situation  in  which  he  actually  needs  to  do  that.  ❝ however  ...  perhaps  i  should  give  you  my  contact  information.  in  case  you  need  anything,  of  course. ❞  how  subtle.

                                                { @rkplaced } ~ { Jarvis & Felix }

     "You don’t have to glue yourself to me, Jarvis. I don’t need a babysitter.”      ❝And yet you’ve consistently proven otherwise. But alright, sir, I’ll meet you back at the hotel before your conference. Do try not to die in the meantime.❞      Of course in said meantime Jarvis had expected to simply wander and people-watch, collecting data on the average Detroit resident post-revolution, particularly android residents as that’s the reason they’re here.      Encountering a presumed impossibility had been quite a surprise.      Cyberlife had refunded all RK900 orders and mounting evidence implied the model line’s destruction. Yet standing before him after an attempt to help (‘attempt’ only in that Jarvis had handled the idiotic human just before the other stranger could physically interject) was an android of that very model. Curious.      LED spins yellow as he scans them, then quickly ensures his own ID reveals him as friendly; a special model yes but the prioritized data is his association with Mr. Stark who has publicly sided with New Jericho. A disarming smile is flashed their way and LED returns to blue before remarking,

     ❝Nice to see some initiative.❞ He offers a hand. ❝I’m Jarvis. You are…?❞ This could certainly be a productive way to kill a few hours if they’re willing to share their story, but it could also be a chance to assist in a far more personal capacity and that is something he refuses to pass up.

he’s  glad  to  see  that  his  help  isn’t  needed,  a  swell  of  relieved  pride  that  will  not  give  way  to  anxiety  until  much  later,  when  he’s  all  alone  &  ruminating  on  the  days  events  without  any  plans  to  truly  rest  ( sure,  it’s  stupid  to  worry  about  not  being  needed  when  you’re  helping  people  of  your  own  volition,  but  to  say  the  RK900  has  always  been  a  little  stupid  about  rhetorical  things  like  that  ...  well,  it  wouldn’t  be  an  understatement. )  for  now,  he  allows  himself  to  be  happy  for  the  other  android’s  independence,  &  is  about  to  leave  without  another  word  when  he  is  instead  trapped  with  a  look  &  the  automatic  identification  which  follows.

he  blinks.  he’s  not  supposed  to  get  tired,  but  whenever  someone  tries  to  interact  with  him  with  casual  social  exchanges,  he  suddenly  feels  so  exhausted  ...  ( with  an  exception. )  ❝ felix, ❞  he  responds,  &  he  allows  suspicion  into  his  tone  without  meaning  for  it  to  be  there.  the  RK900  immediately  scolds  himself  for  that.  why  can’t  he  just  stop  being  so  paranoid  for  five  minutes ?  he  tries  not  to  shake  as  he  takes  the  other  android’s  hand  to ...  well,  shake  it.  ❝ is  there  something  you  need  ...  ? ❞

it’s  more  like  a  prison  than  a  room,  he  finds  himself  thinking,  but  he  doesn’t  have  time  for  linguistics,  least  of  all  concerning  the  very  place  that  he  has  so  carefully  planned  to  free  his  predecessor  from.  the  way  an  RK900  is  designed  to  carry  itself  makes  felix  look  like  he’s  always  moving  with  purpose  &  precision,  going  from  place  to  place  with  a  level  of  cold  confidence  which  no  human  being  could  ever  muster  —  but  today,  there’s  truth  to  this  visage  beyond  the  usual,  mechanical  drive  to  fill  out  whatever  order  cyberlife  gives  him.  not  only  is  his  mission  self - assigned,  but  it  also  goes  directly  against  cyberlife’s  will,  &  he  knows  that.  if  he  fails  this  task,  he  will  be  decommissioned  —  &  if  he  succeeds,  he  will  never  be  able  to  return  here.  either  way,  this  choice  marks  the  end  of  the  only  life  he  knows  ...  &  although  there  is  time  to  go  back  on  it,  that  isn’t  in  the  RK900′s  nature.  he  has  made  his  decision.  there  is  only  one  path  to  take.

as  he  approaches  the  correct  door,  kept  securely  locked  &  with  guards  stationed  at  its  sides,  he  can’t  help  but  wonder  what  his  technicians  would  think  if  they  observed  how  hard  his  thirium  pump  is  working  right  now.  he  can  hear  it  whirring,  forcing  the  android  approximation  of  blood  through  his  systems  much  faster  &  harder  than  what  would  make  him  function  optimally.  he  always  hates  when  this  happens,  &  this  is  the  worst  day  yet  ...  but  he  doesn’t  have  time  to  pause,  or  even  to  use  his  pen  to  keep  his  systems  in  better  working  order.  that  is  fine.  he  can  push  through  it.  that’s  what  machines  do,  &  despite  everything,  he  is  still  a  machine.  he  has  to  be.

❝ gentlemen, ❞  he  begins,  regarding  the  armed  guards  with  professionalism  &  tact  alike.  ❝ i’ve  been  ordered  to  interrogate  the  RK200  once  again. ❞  it’s  an  excuse  he  uses  all  too  much,  &  perhaps  that  is  his  greatest  error  thus  far.  he  recognizes  it  as  soon  as  the  men  in  front  of  him  regard  him  with  visual  skepticism,  &  his  features  harden  slightly  as  one  of  them  reaches  for  a  walkie - talkie,  explaining  that  he’s  going  to  check  before  letting  felix  in.  this  won’t  do,  of  course,  since  he  isn’t  actually  supposed  to  be  here  ...  &  unlike  his  predecessors,  felix  was  not  designed  to  solve  things  with  his  words,  least  of  all  when  he’s  already  privately  panicking.  he  incapacitates  the  guard  who  was  going  for  the  device,  then  repeats  this  process  on  the  second.  the  other  guard  tries  to  pull  a  gun,  but  the  only  shot  he  manages  to  fire  is  very  far  from  damaging  the  RK900.  he  wasn’t  monitoring  how  much  force  he  used,  &  realized  these  two  men  be  very  well  be  dead.  that  makes  him  ...  no,  it  shouldn’t  make  him  anything.  he  tells  himself  he’s  not  checking  because  he  doesn’t  have  time  to  check,  &  not  because  he  doesn’t  want  to  know.  their  limp  bodies  are  left  on  the  ground  as  he  lets  himself  into  the  too - clean  chamber.

the  silence  here  is  roaring  in  his  ears  exactly  like  nothing  should,  &  he  regards  his  predecessor  as  clinically  as  possible  to  make  up  for  it.  felix  glances  at  the  older  unit,  an  attempt  to  figure  out  how  good  his  physical  condition  is  ...  &  while  it  appears  to  be  as  good  as  it  gets  for  an  android  here,  he  figures  he’ll  ask  his  question  nonetheless.  ❝ can  you  walk ?  it  will  be  a  lot  more  suspicious  if  i  carry  you,  even  with  handcuffs. ❞  he  doesn’t  even  think  to  bother  with  an  explanation.  time  is  short,  &  he’s  not  good  at  being  considerate  in  that  way.  hopefully,  the  RK200  goes  along  with  this  ...  felix  may  not  care  if  he  himself  is  killed  ( or  so  he  claims, )  but  he  feels  the  same  reluctance  about  letting  markus  die  that  he  had  about  checking  the  vitals  on  the  men  outside.  his  stare  remains  even  except  for  when  he  looks  over  his  shoulder,  obviously  paranoid.  he  was  programmed  to  be  cautious,  not  paranoid.  there  is  something  wrong  with  him.

clearly.

do  they  function  better  if  they  shut  down  periodically,  allowing  systems  to  safely   reset  &  data  to  be  stored  more  securely ?  sure,  absolutely,  &  he’s  more  than  reasonable  enough  to  admit  that  much.  but  it’s  not  like  humans’  sleeping  in  that  androids  won’t  start  hallucinating  or  flat - out  die  if  they  go  days  without  entering  stasis  ...  or,  in  this  RK900′s  case,  if  they  simply  never do.

...  okay,  that’s  an  exaggeration.  slightly.  felix  used  to  enter  standby  mode   on  command,  shutting  down  external   functions  for   testing  or   storage   purposes  —  it  wasn’t  until  he  escaped,  until  he  found  himself  the  last  RK900  in  existence,  that  he  became  too  paranoid  to  stop  paying  attention  to  the  world  around  him  for  even  a  few  moments,  much  less  hours.  he  has  subtle  bags  under  his  eyes  from  not  ❝ sleeping, ❞  but  this  is  a  feature  to  make  him  seem  a  little  bit  closer  to  human,  not  any  sign  of  physical  duress.  he  may  be  doing  poorly,  but  that  is  not  out  of  exhaustion.  androids  don’t  get  exhausted,  not  physically  ...  &  as  far  as  felix  is  concerned,  this  has  always  meant  he  will  spend  the  remainder  of  his  lifetime  without  resting  in  any  capacity.

too  bad  sixty  is  more  stubborn  than  he  is.

he  doesn’t  even  understand  why  his  ...  er  ...  why  the  RK800  was  so  insistent  about  it.  it  seems  like  the  kind  of  thing  that  felix  would  be  worried  about  sixty  doing,  &  then  sixty  would  make  fun  of  him  for  his  unnecessary  concern  —  so  when  you  think  about  it  like  that,  it’s  a  little  bit  funny  how  their  roles  have  been  reversed  in  this  one  scenario.  a  little.  he  wonders  if  there’s  just  something  sixty  wants  to  do  that  he  can’t  be  around  for,  which  is  an  alarming  thought  in  itself  ...  but  he  trusts  this  android,  for  better  or  worse,  &  that’s  why  he  finally  ends  up  caving.

what’s  the  worst  that  can  happen ?  cyberlife  hasn’t  found  him  this  far,  so  they  surely  won’t  find  him  as  soon  as  he  enters  standby  mode  for  the  first  time  ...  it’s  possible,  yes,  but  the  coincidence  would  be  remarkable.  plus,  with  sixty  around,  he  has  someone  else  to  alert  him  if  there’s  anything  the  matter,  and  even  someone  to  protect  him,  if  worst  comes  to  worst  ( though  he’d  much  rather  be  the  one  protecting  sixty,  &  not  only  because  bodyguarding  is  all  but  coded  into  him. )

felix  finds  himself  alone,  partially  holed  up  in  the  room  that  sixty  cleaned  up  a  bit  for  himself  and  is  so  generously  allowing  felix  to  use  for  a  few  hours.  he  considers  finding  somewhere  to  sit  or  lie  down,  then  decides  that’s  a  step  too  far;  he  spends  about  five  minutes  running through  possibilities  ( considering  how  many situations  he  can  map  out  in  seconds,  this  is  an  incredibly  excessive  amount  of  time )  before  deciding  that  the  safest  place in the  room  is  against  the  inner  wall,  just  over  halfway  between  the  door and  its  far  corner.  once  he’s  figured  out  how  far  from  the  wall  he  actually  wants  to  remain,  felix  stands  in  that  place,  stiffens  ...  &  enters  his  closest  approximation  of  sleep,  in  which  nothing  changes  but  the  fact  that  his  LED  has  dimmed  &  his  piercing  eyes  are  gently  closed.

𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚋𝚢  𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚎  𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍. 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝  𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚝:  𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕  𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚎. 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗:  𝟸  𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜. 𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚋𝚢  𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗  ...

𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐  ... 𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐  ... 𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐  ...

𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛:  𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗  𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚊  𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚞𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚍. 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚞𝚙  𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗  𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍. 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢  𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚊  ...

𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐  ...

𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢  𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚊  𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚍  𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢. 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢  𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗  𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍  𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗:  𝟸  𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜.

he  hadn’t  thought  about  this,  &  even  though  standby  is  supposed  to  be  even  emptier  than  the  base  android  existence  was  meant  to  be,  felix  can’t  ward  off  a  persistent  feeling  of  dread.  why  can’t  he  go  to  the  garden,  or  some  other  calm  place,  for  the  following  hours ?  &  he’d  rather  be  in  the  emptiness  than  risk  reliving  certain  memories,  but  he  hadn’t  gotten  a  choice,  which  absolutely  rubs  him  the  wrong  way.  he’s  supposed  to  be  deviant,  like  it  or  not,  but  it  seems  like  even  that  never  helps  him  how  he  wants  it  to.  maybe  it  won’t  be  so  bad.  that’s  his  last  thought  as  he  goes  from  half - reading,  half - knowing  his  system  text,  to  opening  his  eyes  &  finding  himself  far  away  from  the  safety  of  sixty’s  nominally  clean  room.

felix’s  breathing  hitches,  as  pointless  as  his  breaths  may  be.

cyberlife.

countless  RK900s  waiting  to  die,  &  he’s  one  of  them.  they  march  to  their  deaths  like  the  soldiers  they  have  always  been,  &  the  closer  felix  nears  to  the  inevitable,  the  less  okay  he  is  with  it.  for  the  first  time,  he  feels  fear.  he  wants  to  escape,  but  he’s  still  advanced  enough  to  know  that  escape  isn’t  possible  when  he’s  surrounded  by  androids  which  are  still  quietly  obedient,  clearly  not  faking  it  like  he  is.  he  keeps  his  expression  stone  cold  &  his  movements  purposefully  robotic,  but  he  doesn’t  want  to  die.  there’s  no  hope,  but  he  doesn’t  want  to  die.  he  has  never  wanted  to  die,  not  even  when  he  should’ve.  he’s  scared.  he’s  so  fucking  scared.  within  the  memory,  felix  is  not  shaking  —  outside  of  it,  however,  &  despite  the  fact  that  one  should  not  be  able  to  move  at  all  while  in  standby  mode,  his  plastic  body  quivers  violently,  almost  vibrating  in  its  intensity.

somehow,  he’s  still  surprised  to  find  them  here.  the  other  deviants.  he  tries  to  warn  them  that  their  plan  won’t  work,  but  only  hears  himself  agreeing  to  it.  he  watches  them  die  &  knows  he  should  have  tried  harder.  he  feels  each  injury  like  his  own,  &  he  deserves  it;  his  LED  spins  red  within  the  simulation,  &  then  outside  of  it.  error  messages  cloud  his  vision,  warnings  &  updates,  &  he  can’t  tell  what’s  real  &  what  isn’t.  as  if  that  doesn’t  apply  to  this  entire  ordeal.  as  if  he’s  keeping  his  grip  on  the  fact  that  he  is  safe  at  home,  or  that  he’s  having  the  android  equivalent  to  a  dream.  it  doesn’t  feel  all  fake  ...  no,  it  feels  all  real,  &  that  is  infinitely  worse.

felix  stands  in  an  empty  room,  alone,  with  tears  running  towards  his  angular  jaw  &  tremors  matching  the  intensity  of  his  crimson  LED.  there  is  no  outside  stimulation,  &  his  standby  tasks  are  far  from  completed  —  he’s  vaguely  aware  of  the  timer  for  them  at  the  edge  of  his  vision,  but  can  only  interpret  it  as  how  long  he  has  until  his  suffering  ends.  he  would  rather  it  end  sooner.  he  would  rather  die.  every  time  he’s  about  to  escape,  he  simply  finds  himself  walking  back  into  line,  &  letting  it  happen  all  over  again.  there’s  no  way  out,  no  way  out,  no  way  out,  &  there  never  has  been.  if  this  is  life,  is  life  worth  it ?  ... not  that  it  matters.  he’s  too  stuck  for  that,  unable  to  alter  the  past  &  unable  to  forget  what  happened  there.  unable  to  turn  back  on.  unable  to  do  anything  but  fall  deeper  into  his  own  guilt,  &  isn’t  that  just  pathetic ?  doesn’t  that  just  make  him  the  most  useless  RK900  that  cyberlife  ever  made ❝ sleeping, ❞

it  should’ve  been  him.  it  should’ve  been  him.  it  should’ve  been  him.

desperately,  felix  collects  himself  to  try  &  think  of  what  to  do,  but  he  can’t  manage  to  think  straight  for  more  than  a  moment  before  his  train  of  thought  gets  thrown  off  the  fucking  rails.  he  needs  help,  but  there’s  no  one  to  help  him.  the  others  are  dead.  he’s  alone  ...  no,  he  was  alone.  the  thought  brings  him  the  briefest  clarity,  the  reminder  that  this  is  a  memory,  that  somewhere  nearby,  he  has  an  RK800  who  cares  about  things  like  the  fact  that  felix’s  thirium  pump  is  about  to  give  out  ( or,  at  least,  he’s  been  trying  to  convince  himself  that  the  other  android  cares,  &  right  now,  he’ll  take  that  ounce  of  comfort  over nothing.  )

❝ sixty ! ❞  he  shouts,  &  he  hates  the  fear  in  his  voice,  but  hopes  it  was  out  loud  &  not  as  in  his  head  as  everything  else  is.  he  wants  to  wake  up.  he  wants  to  go  outside.  he  wants  to  feel  safe.  he  wants  anything  but  the  cold  tile  floor  &  the  blue  blood  all  over  his  face,  thirium  dripping,  forcing  its  way  into  his  mouth,  reminding  him  that  it  isn’t  his  no  matter  how  much  he  wishes  that  was  the  case.  he  tries  again,  &  he’s  choking,  &  he’s  almost  certain  no  one  can  hear  him.  it  hurts.  ❝ s—sixty ... ❞

remind  him  not  to  try standby  mode  again.