#hehatesandroids

starters for robotic / ai muses   /   ac.   /   @hehatesandroids

         “ No, Lieutenant. There aren’t any weaponized androids currently on the market. It was determined that the risk to humanity would be too high in the theoretical case, based on the historical fear of AI becoming sentient. ”  His pause is filled with the change of LED colour. It circles from blue to yellow and back again as his mind runs a synthetic thought process; subsequently storing data.

“ A suppose they were right to be hesitant, considering they were right. We are hunting deviants. ” Connor’s mouth curves, the slight example of emulated humor.

    The night was quiet. It wasn’t the first, nor likely the last, time that Connor stayed up, sitting cross-legged on the floor and stroking Sumo as he waited for the door to open. Hank was his own person, and whether things had taken a positive spin the last few weeks or not, Jimmies Bar was still a frequent haunt of the older Lieutenant. And Connor was... well, still not technically allowed there. On this night, it had more been that the android had spent a couple extra hours reading a couple ( hundred ) case files. The Detroit PD, as it were, had no shortage of cases for a sleepless and attentive android to rifle through, and he found it... actually pretty... what was it.... fun? He supposed fun. It was his functionality, sure, but he got a sense of accomplishment from investigations.

    Just needed to learn which files he actually had access to and which he was just going into through backdoors in coding...

    Either way, he’d been sent home by Fowler, and rather than go to see if Hank was still at Jimmies, he’d decided to wander home and wait. He’d expected.... a shorter... wait... and yet there he and Sumo sat. On the floor. Each attentively looking at the door. He supposed there was more he could do with his spare time. But...

    CRASH-!

    He lurched to his feet. A break-in-?! It wasn’t unthinkable, in this part of town ( sorry, Hank, demographics and risk assessment spoke for themselves in the area, you didn’t really choose the best locale- ), but he had not really been anticipating anything like that. If he was quick, he could likely use the chair to-

    Yet as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, he halted, staring perplexedly at the shattered glass. “.... Lieutenant?” There was almost a vacancy to his stare, a vapid disbelief but... but no, there he was... eyes flicking between the brick on the floor and the bleary eyed man listing outside. “.... did you... Sir, did you forget your keys...?” And did you forget I would be here...?

He had put similar notes on most of the bottles he had found. Being an android designed to help solve cases meant he could preconstruct and scan to find to the alcohol hidden throughout the home. It was a game almost to see if he could find them. Keep his processors sharp and his mind working.

But also, it was to try and help the other. Connor had done his research on alcohol abuse and he didn’t want Hank to go through that. He cared about him. And he would do what he needed to keep him safe like he knew the other would do for him.

"I would prefer to avoid that if I can, Lieutenant." 

Perhaps that was true. Or at the very least, it came as close to the truth as Connor was capable of providing right then, consumed by objective, driven by outcome. Hank had always been so determined to become collateral. This was just another roll of the dice, another drink too many, another night out cold on the kitchen floor. Surrendered to fate. It would bring Connor no satisfaction to oblige, to strip away cowardice, to eliminate choice. Hank had been waiting on fate to strike him down, and yet- it would advance Connor's mission no further to act as fate.That certainly sounded like a viable excuse. After all that effort to learn. To know him.

    Not a worry, Hank. Connor wasn’t hiding anything at all behind that suspiciously closed bathroom door. Not a thing. Nope. Nothing at all. And there was no specific reason why his eyes kept cutting across the room to peek at the door, or that his LED flashed the briefest moment of yellow each time he did.

    You’d think, for a prototype investigator android who had repeatedly demonstrated prowess in negotiation ( i. e. majorly lying ), that he would be better at this sort of thing. Perhaps it was a person association of guilt, of actual responsibility, that made him falter...