#dirtyfilter

Despite the fact that Elijah was no longer in control of what the company did, he was still the primary share holder and owner of the company. He promised to keep his distance and let them run things they wanted, in exchange he still held the company in his hands. And he liked to see what androids they were creating without him. It intrigued him to see the directions they would go to assist the human race.

He took a certain special interest, especially, in the new projects. The children androids seemed to only be the beginning. The KL900 had been an interesting one, as a social worker android made the withstand more abuse and intense situations than normal androids. They seemed to be sturdy enough, determined enough. Naturally, the next logical step for them was the KN700, which they seemed to focus more on, as Elijah put it, troubled youths.

He was curious how the newer line differed from the previous, CyberLife was always about emphasizing something different about each model so that it made them unique. It made it easier for each one to specialize in one field as opposed to being good in multiples and stretching themselves thin.

    ❝  What,  ❞   her voice lilted, quirked at the end with amusement,   ❝  suddenly you’re         interested in being a gentleman  ?  ❞

It seemed, to her, they’d already bypassed that point in their relationship  -—-  sprinted right by it and watched it pass from the mist kissed windows of her car. Only she didn’t really know where they’d sprinted   to.   Their relationship was out of order, a muddled display in a store window, a stack of t-shirts once neatly folded and now flung across the bench. And she was okay with that. She’d never not been okay with that. She just wondered, sometimes, even now, how much of that mess was a programmed response   ;   how much was a machine doing what she wanted it to do and how much was really real, if not all of it was, in some way.

But that was a backwards yes. And, well, Ian was perfectly capable of saying   no.   Certainly, saying no would’ve been the route of professionalism. Melissa wished she could stop overthinking every detail of her existence and just let things happen.

Resolutely, she decided that that was precisely what she was going to do.

A brief glance to her surroundings and she approached him, cupped his face fondly in both hands. She only felt him in one. He filled her with a gentle warmth, the same sort of deep, endless fondness that settled in her gut when she looked at him.

She loved him.

With every screaming fibre of her being she knew she loved him.

Her thumb traced his cheek, careful and smooth. Sometimes, until she got close enough to see how strikingly astounding he was, she forgot that he was not made of flesh.

      “That’s okay! I’ll force them to like me.” It couldn’t be that hard, could it? Hunter knew how to charm people, how to flatter them and impress them and persuade them to come back again. After all, he used to be a Hollywood lackey, there to hoist up humongous egos and appease the mobs of rowdy fans and reporters. Surely those skills can’t be redundant now. 

X | accepting