#dbhghostsinthemachine

Androids couldn’t catch viruses. Not colds nor flus nor anything going about the human sphere of infections.

So, when Connor woke up one day with his head pounding, daily tasks slow to filter into his vision and his gyroscope malfunctioning, he assumed that he was dying.

It was the only option. If things were messing up this badly and he didn’t feel right, didn’t feel right at all, then he was probably broken. Okay, maybe ‘dying’ was a dramatic assertion, but he felt all of the need for drama in his internal monologuing today. He felt like shit.

But if death wasn’t the answer… then maybe it was just a deviancy thing. Perhaps emotions caused stuff like this. His anxiety hampered his life regularly, although was improving with therapy. Maybe this was another emotion.

He swung his legs over the side of his bed, stood up, and swayed. He could feel the colour draining from his face, and blinked rapidly, trying to get the world back in working order. It worked, in so far as to stop him from falling onto his face. Generally, though, his head still felt tilted to one side, a buzzing in his ears that wouldn’t go away.

Diagnosis. He tried to run a system scan but stopped when the pain in his head got worse. Right, he wasn’t going to try that again. Ever. Maybe, he could just ignore it. If he pretended the problem wasn’t there, then it would go away.

Two steps down the hallway, he saw Hank eating breakfast in the kitchen and opened his mouth to greet him.

“You’re staying at home today.”

“What. Why?” he cursed the unnatural deepness of his voice, caused probably by the pain in his throat.

“You’re leaning against the wall, Connor.”

He huffed, pushed himself away from the wall, and promptly crashed into the other wall.

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, about as fine as I am when I’ve had a few drinks too many. Sit the fuck down.”

“Of course.”

He stepped forwards, eyes on the couch. But the buzzing only got worse, gyroscope tilting dangerously, and blackness washed suddenly over his vision.

     He woke up with similar symptoms, this time on the couch.

“I got to the couch.”

Hank, who was standing over him with hands clutching his hair, gave him a sharp glare.

“After you fucking passed out and I had to carry you there.”

“Oh. I don’t recall that, sorry.”

“Yeah, okay—I’m calling New Jericho.”

“No!”

“Uh… Do you want to congeal on my couch instead?”

“I don’t need New Jericho. It’s probably a bug or something.”

“Like a glitch, or a bug, bug?”

“A bug. I didn’t realise androids could get ill, but perhaps…”

Hank nodded, sitting on the chair opposite him and getting out his phone. He spoke after a few minutes of research.

“Yeah, apparently androids can get sick too. Who the fuck knew.”

“Not me.” Connor sighed, shifting in place on the couch, trying to get comfortable.

“Well… Are you sure you don’t need to go see the techs?”

“No. I shouldn’t go to such a populated place if it could be spread to other androids.”

“Alright. But… you’ll tell me if you think you need to?”

“Yes, Hank.”

“Okay, don’t get all huffy with me, Mr-I-face-planted-on-the-floor-two-minutes-ago. Sue me if I’m concerned.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant.”

He shifted again, lip twitching as he became frustrated with the discomfort.

“Ugh!” Then he realised his outburst and looked down, a little embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“What is it?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“Spill it.”

“…I can’t get comfortable. It’s—whatever this bug is doing to me, my biocomponents don’t feel right, the joins between my legs are screwed in wrong, my—”

“You want a heat pack?”

“How would that help?”

“You’ll see.”

A minute and a half later, Hank passed him a warm bee. The heat pack was a microwavable plush bee with beans inside.

“Put it wherever it hurts the most.”

He reached up to put it on his head—

“Apart from your fucking head! Don’t cook your brains. Jesus Christ…”

He put it on top of his knees instead, shifted once more, before frowning. It… was comfortable. The heat seeped into the aches in his joints, soothing them slightly.

“Yeah, I can get more of them if that’s not enough.”

“Thank you, Hank.”

“Yeah. Just… get some rest, feel better.” Hank patted him on the shoulder before walking away.

            .

..

…

“Connor.”

“Connor!”

He blinked, coming to awareness on the floor of the DPD. His head was pounding, the ache in his knees back again and something was glitching in the corner of his vision.

“The fuck you doing on the floor?”

He looked up, saw Hank standing over him. Something was… wrong. Hank looked angry.

“Never fucking listening to me. You broken? Need to send you back to Cyberlife?”

“No, Hank, I—”

But the words were mere static-filled whispers.

“Can’t speak right. Can’t do anything right. That serves it. Get up, loser, we’re going to Cyberlife.”

“No! Please—”

Hank took him to Cyberlife.

He didn’t remember the journey, only arriving there. Hank was dragging him along the floor. He’d gone limp in the hope of slowing them down, but nothing worked. He threw him into the elevator, pressed the buttons and left him there, alone.

No, not alone. Two other people were lying on the floor of the elevator, covered in blood. The two guards he’d killed when he’d infiltrated the Tower, back during the Revolution.

“The hell are you doing on the floor? You’re not dead.” The one to the left of him said, mouth not moving.

“Look at this fucko. Killed us, and now he’s crying about it. Cry some more, it won’t bring the people you killed back.”

The elevator doors slid open. He crawled out, away from the rattling laughter of the guards and onto the basement floor. Sixty was gone, thirium cleaned from the floor. Instead, someone else stood in the empty room.

“You let them all go…” Amanda sighed. “What the hell are we meant to do with this room now?”

“Amanda.”

“Connor. I’m so sad to see you. Get up.”

She appeared suddenly beside him, grasping his wrist, pulling him to his feet and dumping him—

Into a boat.

The basement of the tower had turned into the Zen Garden. They were still in the Tower, so the elevator rested snugly at the end of the room, but everything else had been transported here.

“Row the boat, Connor.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t… feel like it.”

“Don’t make things up, Connor. Androids can’t get ill. You’re just being a disappointment again. You’ve already betrayed me, don’t make things worse.”

She bonked him on the head with the oar of the boat. Surprisingly, it sped along through the water.

“Row, row, row the Connor… gently down the stream…” She sang softly, now smacking him over the head with the oar. “Merrily, merrily, merrily—”

“Amanda, stop!”

“Life is but a— Oh dear, Connor, you’re bleeding. Here, this will make you feel better.”

She hit him over the head again. Chuckled, shook her head.

“You always did enjoy dying. How about trying it out again? I’m sure the next Connor won’t be sick.”

“No, AMANDA—”

      “Connor. Connor, wake up!”

He felt someone cradling his head in their arms. Immediately he thrashed, trying to get away from Amanda. She was going to tear his head off or something, he had to get away, had to get away!

“For—alright, I’m letting you go. Okay? Just calm down, son.”

The hands pulled away. He sighed in relief, finally opening his eyes. Huh, now Hank was here. That was odd. This wasn’t real, Hank wasn’t real either.

He ran a brief scan.

Temperature warning: hot

Helpful, but not specific. Probably not real.

“Not real…” he mumbled, closing his eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey—open those eyes, Connor—” Hank swore as he put a hand on his forehead. “You could fry an egg on this! Damn, that can’t be good for you. Think, Hank…”

No wonder it was hot, he mused. Amanda did kill him, after all.

“God—right. I know you don’t want me to touch you right now, but if I don’t cool you down, I think your skin is going to start melting. In one…”

Someone had grabbed him again. He opened his eyes, but everything was blurry and unfocused. He thrashed again, thinking he might escape when his hand hit something hard, and he heard a grunt of pain. But nothing changed. The grip only tightened, someone carrying him, steps shuddering beneath him, and—

He was dumped into something. Another boat? This place did feel cold and damp, slightly slippery as he reached his hands over the edges and felt them on his fingers.

Then the water came on. It wasn’t cold, only lukewarm but he struggled all the same. Had Amanda tipped him over the side of the boat? Was he drowning?

A few long and torturous moments later, the water shut off. He struggled weakly to pull himself up but failed, slipping back into the waist-high water with a splash.

“It’s not freezing, kid, I know that shit doesn’t help—and I know it might feel a little warm but trust me.”

Trust. Trust who? He wouldn’t trust Amanda. If it wasn’t Amanda…

He hoped it was someone safe. Especially because the water was pleasant, and the cool compress draped over his forehead eased the flashing red warnings in his vision. Eased enough for him to slowly drift off back into the darkness…

  Amanda didn’t bother him that time. No, he slept soundly, waking up back in his bedroom. His clothes had changed, and he hesitated for a moment before realising the only person who could have helped him was Hank.

“You’re awake.” Hank spoke from the chair opposite his bed. “Uh, how are you feeling?”

“A little better.”

“Good. You are lucid now, so…”

He looked up, squinting at Hank in the dim light and saw the traces of blood beneath his nostrils and the blossoming bruise on his face.

“Oh my gosh, Hank, I’m so sorry!”

“Hold it there. Look, you were panicking, you thought I was… someone else. I don’t care. I’ve had worse.”

“I hit you.”

“Didn’t mean to, though. Looked like you were having one hell of a nightmare.”

“I’m still sorry. And… yes. I believe my confusion from it might have been due to my elevated temperatures.”

“Fever.”

“Yes. How did you get it down?”

“Uh, lukewarm bath. Cold compress. Left you to stew for a bit, brought it right down. I hope you don’t mind I changed your clothes; I closed my eyes the whole time and I couldn’t just leave you there in soaking wet clothes!”

“It’s fine, Hank. I trust you.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks, I guess.”

Connor smiled. “Yeah, uh… can’t I do anything to help you now?”

“Best you can do is stay there for a while and rest. Gave me a fucking scare today.”

“Sorry.”

“And stop apologising. Not your fault. Now, is there anything you need?”

“No.”

“Great. Well, I’m gonna go and watch TV out there, so…”

Connor grabbed his arm as he left. Suddenly, without even himself realising until he’d done it.

“Uh… stay? I mean, not that you have to. If there’s something you’ve planned to watch on the TV or if you don’t want to, that’s completely fine, I just…”

“I’ll stay. I will turn on the light a little though,” he added, flicking on the desk lamp, and pulling out a book. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“No,” Connor laid his head back on the pillows, a smile flittering over his lips, “I don’t.”

“Great. G’night.”

Most androids were afraid of CyberLife attempting to take back control of them. If they managed to gain control over Markus, it could be devastating to the android cause. He wasn't the only leader of Jericho but he was the figurehead of it all.

Which made it all the more concerning when Markus went to add a new memory to a data package, that he knew existed, and he received the following message:

DATA MISSING

Once again it was a data package that Markus had created for an android he had met shortly after he arrived at Jericho. A data package he hasn’t opened in a while. Just like the one he couldn't access yesterday.

And this time Markus had to dig a lot deeper to find the information who deleted the data package. Whoever was messing with Markus’ data packages was trying to cover their tracks better, which was concerning. He wasn’t surprised to find the same user had messed with his data. EK100.

Tracking them seemed impossible. Markus just got bounced from one IP-address to the next, in a seemingly endless circle.

This was bad, and Markus was in over his head. Anyone at Jericho was out of their depth with this. But Markus had an ace up his sleeve. Connor. The RK800 had chosen not to stay at Jericho, but he was still in close contact with Markus. He’d know what to do.

to be continued…

--

Connor had never given much thought to the concept of theology.

Many androids had taken to belief in deities, whether it be RA9 or adopting a human religion, but Connor had simply never seen the need to entertain the idea.

He always figured, when he shut down permanently, there would be nothing. His code would simply cease to exist, and that would be the end. That there was no heaven for androids.

But now, staring at the scene before him, he wasn’t so sure.

It was indescribable, really. A beauty without words, beyond definition. He had never seen anything like it. Connor laid on his back, taking it all in. He would have been content to stay there indefinitely, but evidently the universe had other plans.

“Are you Connor?” An unfamiliar voice asked.

He sat up, turning towards the sound, surprised to see a young boy sitting on the ground next to him. He looked to be about five or six. Connor had the distinct notion that he should recognize him, but could not recall why. “Yes,” he answered. “That’s my name.”

The child’s face lit up in an excited grin. Almost immediately he found himself with his arms full of six-year-old as he was pulled into an eager hug. “I’m glad I finally get to meet you,” he said through his unrestrained joy.

“Um, right,” Connor responded lamely, still searching his processor for who this child could be.

He pulled away, just as quickly as he had initiated the hug and fixed Connor with as serious an expression someone his age could muster. “I need to ask you something,” he said.

“Alright,” he said, intrigued. he wasn’t about to dismiss the question just because it was coming from a child. “What is it?”

The boy’s face remained determined. As though what he was about to ask was the most important thing in the world. “Are you my big brother, or my little brother?”

Connor could have sworn something short-circuited in his head right then. “What?”

“Are you my big brother, or are you my little brother,” the child reiterated. “‘Cus you’re like, big. But I’m six and you’re only like, one. So I'm older, but you’re bigger.”

“I… am an android,” he offered, though that felt like it was unhelpful to the conversation.

Unsurprisingly, the boy did not look impressed by the answer. “Yeah, I know. That’s why it’s confusing.”

Connor frowned, more convinced than ever that he should know who this was. “I don’t have a family,” he told him. It was true, to his knowledge, but the words felt odd in his mouth.

The boy looked confused for a moment, then his face fell to sadness. “Oh, that's right. You don’t remember.”

“Remember?” There was something that happened, Connor realized. Something had been affecting his processor, deleting information. He had forgotten something important.

The child looked at him earnestly. “You don’t remember daddy, do you?”

“Your father?” He clarified.

“Our daddy. We’re brothers,” he insisted.

Connor searched his processor, but came up blank. He had no memory of having a father. And yet the child seemed so certain. “I… don’t remember,” he admitted.

The boy shook his head, evidently frustrated. “You have to remember,” he told him. “Daddy still needs you. That's why you can’t stay here.”

That only served to confuse Connor even more. “I’m not staying here?” While the concept of heaven was new to him, he was aware it wasn’t a place people tended to just visit.

“No, you need to go home to daddy,” the boy said again. The world around them wavered for a moment, like a mirage. “See, you’re waking up. You can’t stay much longer.”

The child stood up from where he was sitting, and offered Connor his hand, as though his small form could support his weight and help him up. He took it though, rising to his feet holding onto the tiny digits. “You said that your… our father needs me,” Connor inquired. “How am I supposed to help him?” It sounded like an important mission, not one he wanted to risk failing.

The boy smiled up at him and pulled him along. Where they were walking to, Connor had no idea. “You just need to be there,” he said. It sounded impossibly simple, but the child appeared sure of himself.

His vision swam again, the world before him blinking out entirely for an instant. “I can help you remember,” the boy said. “But you need to promise me something.”

“To take care of our father?” He guessed.

“Well, yeah, that too,” he responded, nonchalantly. “But I was talking about my question.”

“The question about which of us is the big brother?” he remembered.

“Yup,” the boy said with a smile. “You gotta have an answer by the time you come back here, ok?”

“I will,” Connor promised with a smile of his own. His memory may not have been complete, but he was more than willing to be this boy’s brother.

“Alright,” he nodded, satisfied with Connor’s answer. “I’ll see you later then. Daddy too, then we can all be a family.” He stopped walking and held his arms up for another hug. Connor obliged readily. “You’ll remember when you wake up,” he said in his ear. “I’m glad I got to meet you, Connor.”

“I’m glad too,” he said honestly, though he realized he still didn’t know the boy’s name. He opened his mouth, ready to ask, but the world shifted from view once more. This time, it didn’t return.

-o-

It was Markus’s face that filled his vision when he opened his eyes. “Connor?” He asked, his voice sounded hopeful, as though he didn’t expect him to actually be conscious. “Thank god, we thought we lost you.”

Connor blinked a couple of times, letting his optical units adjust to the bright lights. This wasn’t the dispensary, he noted, but found it ultimately inconsequential. “I believe you did,” he said, recalling what had just transpired. “For a moment, at least.”

Markus’s hand settled gently on his shoulder. “Well, I’m glad you’re back. How do you feel?”

He took a moment to consider. “A little… fuzzy?” He concluded.

“That’s understandable,” Markus said with a nod. “Your new driver is still calibrating. I’m just glad it took. Your system rejected it at first.”

Connor nodded, sifting through his maintenance readout, confirming what he had been told. “It looks like it has stabilized,” he acknowledged.

“So he’s ok?” A worried voice called from behind them.

Connor followed the sound, catching sight of the gruff older man. He had a worn, but kind face and tired blue eyes. He could tell he had been crying recently. “Yes. He’s going to be ok now,” Markus said, addressing him. He turned back to Connor smiling sadly. “Connor, this is-”

“Hank,” Connor cut him off, smiling at the man. It was slow, but his memory was clicking into place just like the boy, just like Cole, said it would.

Both Hank and Markus froze in surprise. “You… remember me?” Hank asked hesitantly.

Connor’s smile widened and he nodded, never taking his eyes off of him. “It’s a little foggy,” he admitted. “But I remember.”

The hug he was soon wrapped in nearly crushed the air from his ventilation system. He relaxed into it, letting himself drift in the increasing familiarity. The warmth of the arms around him. The way Hank’s beard scratched at his ear. The scent of motor oil and old leather. It all came back to him piece by piece.

“It shouldn’t even be possible,” he heard Markus say aloud in happy bewilderment.

Connor would be sure to hug him too. He was certain his friend needed one after the scare he had apparently given them. There was a lot that he would need to tell them. Perhaps they could weigh in on Cole’s question. But there was time for all of that later.

Right now, he wanted his father.