#pocket ghost

Starts with situation where there's something that requires Connor to be connected to computer via cable (like for example to manually delete some CyberLife junk that slows down the system and lost its purpose) and needs Hank's help to be there and do what it takes, because Connor needs to be in stand by for this to work, so he's just sitting/lying next to him completely limp with caple connected to the back of his neck.

At some point something goes wrong and Hank's computer goes into restart, and when it loads Hank notices that first this CL maintenance program loads in, then blank text document opens on his computer and in a matter of seconds text appears, first some unreadable wall of symbols, then normal text, something along the lines of

"Hank, are you there? I'm afraid my program is running on your computer. I'm trying to move but I'm not sure if it's going through. Am I moving right now?"

Then

"If you're there please write something, I can't hear you."

Hank will stare at the screen, then at motionless Connor next to him, when he look back at the screen there'll be another couple of messages asking him to write something and from the way they're written and the speed at which new text appears it'll look like an escalating panic – from just asking Hank to write something it'll turn into begging to at least interact somehow with the computer, at some point within merely a second they'll start to appear too quickly to read. Hank'll grab keyboard and as fast as he can write something, maybe first just gibberish to write something asap, then delete it and write

"Connor?"

New wave of about a ten new lines of text will appear, most of which just repetition of the general message of "yes, I'm here"

"Can you hear me?" Hank will ask at loud, then type it after not getting any response

Another wave of lines of text with general message being "No, I can't hear you. I can't see you. I can't move." and "please don't leave me", desparation slipping through the lines

Hank will ask if he can do something to fix it

"I don't know" will appear on one line after another in some slight variations, then

"Can you connect some mic and headphones? I can't find any available."

Hank will look around the room, then type "wait, I'll go grab some" to which another wave of desperate "Please don't leave" appear in response, then "when will you get back?"

Unsure if he should go search for headphones at all Hank will type

"3 min"

Then search for headphones

"Connor?" He'll call again, hearing some noise his headphones "Hey, hey, can you hear me now?"

"Yes. I can hear you, but I can't move. I don't- I don't feel like I have any body at all"

"So you're in my computer... How did that-"

"Am I still connected?"

Hank moves to check that Connor has cable securely connected to the port on the back of his neck, and on the other side it's just as properly inserted into according port on the computer. He carefully moves Connor to confirm that one more time.

"Did you feel that?" Hank asks

"Feel what?"

After initial panic when both of them get slightly calmer they'll come to realisation that in order to allow the kind of changes they were about to make android's mind is basically temporarily transferred into another device, in their cases Hank's computer, but due to some mistake in process, computer went into a restart, so no transfer back occured + some component burned down making transfer back temporarily impossible (unless it's replaced). Or idk how it works, it's actually against my headcanons, but fuck it. The point is that this will take time to replace it, because it has to be ordered as something custom that can't be found as it is available the same day.

Without the need to move actual physical body (that occupies most of the resources) actual "mind" is not so big so it can even run on a phone, which is exactly what happens next. (Don't attack me, it's a silly little story idea, so let me have fun)

So for a couple of days or up to a week Connor exists within this non-physical predicament, learning ways to interact with other devices (like connecting to cameras that are within same network just to see something, although it's hard to understand the depth (regular cameras are sure different than the ones used for android's eyes)), surfing the web, etc. Basically like in the movie "Her"(2013) but as a temporary measure.

During this time Hank adopts a habit of wearing a headphones (or just one) at practically all times just to keep Connor a company while he's like that, because (at least at first) he's freaking out and is really opposed to the thought of being left alone even for a short time, because without a body and barely any inputs from the real world (compared to usual amount and quality) the experience is way too similar to non-existence and shit is understandably freaky. It seems like constantly having such a company, basically enduring someone else's presense at almost all times can rapidly become annoying and unbearable, but somehow it quickly becomes a second nature instead. In a way it's even nice. Consequently they talk more than ever, often ending up discussing something minor or ridiculous, something they'd never talked about otherwise, just because they're basically getting used to thinking out loud with a company.

Story ends with Hank finally replacing the component that got broken with a new one, allowing Connor to finally transfer back. The image of his body moving for the first time after being completely still for a relatively long period of time seems to me weirdly adorable. Being able to finally move and feel again must be similar to the feeling of wearing the right type of glasses for the first time after living with way too weak ones without realising how fucking blind you actually are. But yeah, it must be about 10 times better than that.

"What will happen if it runs out?"

"My body will shut down."

"Temporarily, you mean."

"Only if it's put on charge the same day. Otherwise, my biocomponents will start decomposing."

"You're fucking kidding me."

Hank sighed and walked to the body. It was still awkwardly covered with a blanket he had put on it, and in the dim lighting of the living room, it somehow appeared even more dead than the day before. All pale and unmoving. The android's head was leaning against the back of the armchair, and Hank would have to move it to see the LED.

He didn't want to touch it, he thought, not like this, but reluctantly, he reached Connor's head with his hand and stilled. Synthetic skin felt cold, and the sensation of it sent chills down Hank's spine. It wasn't that Hank hadn't seen dead bodies or was especially disturbed by their appearance – over the years, he had grown pretty accustomed to it. To an extent, at least. This body, however, was different. It wasn't only because it belonged to someone Hank knew, and definitely not because it was android and not human – this, in theory, should have made it better. Easier. But instead, that was part of what creeped Hank the most about it, the ambiguity of its being: it wasn't alive, but it wasn't dead either. Something in it still signalised life, but not in the ways Hank was used to, not in the ways it would in a human. Android wasn't breathing, and his skin, as Hank just discovered, was cold. Dry, too. He wasn't sure if androids had something like a pulse so he wasn't sure he'd find any if he searched. There was only the light of the LED he could rely on, the one Hank couldn't see.

He sighed, and fighting his apprehension, slightly turned android's head to the side, finally revealing the yellow light, blinking on and off slowly. The same way as before.

Hank let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding.

Alive. Or in any case, not dead.

"Light is on, but nobody is home," he chuckled humorlessly.

"I'm not sure you understand the meaning of this phrase."

Hank knelt and picked the green cable from before off the floor, "Do I just plug...that thing back inside?" He felt slightly nauseous at the sight of how long and needle-like the connector part was. The idea of plugging it into the neck didn't inspire any enthusiasm within him. He could as well be asked to give an intravenous injection.

"No, it's for data transfer only – you need a thick black one. It should be on the table"

Hank looked around the table and picked the only cable in sight, neatly placed beside the computer. To his relief connector part was shorter and looked like it might have belonged to some computer itself, although unlike the one Hank currently had. He turned it around in his hands, studying.

"How come I've never seen you using it?" he asked, "I didn't even know you needed to be recharged. Haven't really thought about it, to be honest."

"I've been doing it when you weren't home."

Hank turned around and, desperate for eye contact, looked at the speaker, as if Connor could see him from it.

"Why?" he asked.

"I thought it might unsettle you."

"Uh-uh, a sight of an android charging is so unsettling a few can handle it. Christ, it's not like you ever cared about unsettling me anyway."

"Well, not in a sense of frightening. I just thought you might joke about it or find it inhuman, so I found it best to avoid this attention. It wasn't hard."

The confession felt like a punch in the gut.

"Hey, when did I ever say anything about-" Hank trailed off as the memories flooded back to him.

Shit. In a moment it felt like a reasonable observation, at times just a harmless joke. He had assumed android ignored it just as anything else he found to be unhelpful. Never had he even considered that saying anything about Connor's android peculiarities could actually influence the way he acted in his presence or result in him attempting to hide some of it from his eyes in the future. How come he never thought of it this way?

"I had no idea you're taking it this way."

"Oh no, I'm not taking an offence at it. It doesn't bother me," Connor assured him, "It bothers you."

Now this was starting to piss Hank off.

"Bullshit."

"You repeatedly asked me to stop sampling things because you hated to see it, so I started doing it when you weren't watching. I thought charging may fall into the same category. Just one of those things you dislike for whatever reason. I don't mind it, it's okay."

"-No, Connor it's not," Hank interrupted, "It's been a couple of months and you never told me?"

Dynamic rustled slightly.

"I didn't think of it as something worth sharing," Connor said, voice raising in defence.

The room fell quiet. Hank stared at the speaker, expecting it to say something else, but it was silent now, only slight rustling penetrating through the sound of a TV working on the lowest volume. He couldn't help it but feel like Connor wasn't entirely honest or fair in attributing all the discomfort to Hank only. In assuming it. Insisting on it, even.

Well, maybe he did deserve it, Hank thought. After all, he couldn't deny commenting on some of android's quirks in the past. He just never thought it mattered. Never thought Connor thought anything of it at all. Although Hank was sure about one thing – he wouldn't give two fucks if he ever saw him charging.

Connor spoke first.

"I didn't know it'd upset you," he said, quiet this time.

"To find out that you've been walking on eggshells around me all this time? Of course it fucking upsets me," Hank sighed, "I just want you to feel at home."

"I do."

"It's hard to believe when you barely even have anything."

Hank looked around, searching for Connor's belongings around the room, but found that the only objects he could attribute to him were two cables: one thick and green beneath his legs with uncomfortably long needle-like connector, the other he held in his hand, "You know, usually people have something when they move in, and it makes it look accordingly. With you it's just... nothing. Like you're not even here or ready to leave any moment."

Maybe he is, Hank thought.

"I'm not people," Connor said.

Hank scoffed, his eyes not leaving the cable in his hands that he now held tight.

"I know. I know that you're not."

"-But you're more comfortable when I act as if I am," Connor finished for him, "You see, that's why I was charging in private."

"Fuck me," Hank released the cable and watched it drop to the floor.

"I'm just telling the truth."

"Thanks."

With an increasing urge to have a drink he strolled towards the fridge. He took a bottle of beer out, stared at it for a moment, then returned it back to the fridge before opening a kitchen cabinet and taking a bottle of whiskey instead. He searched for a glass, but it appeared as if all the glasses and cups were already in use. Scattered around the house or piled up inside the sink, awaiting to be washed.

"Fucking great."

He unscrewed the bottle and took a few generous swigs. Embarrassment, hot and tight, gradually overshadowed by the burning of another kind. He took one more sip to drown it completely, but with no avail — it'd require more than that.

He couldn't care less about charging, probably wouldn't even notice it. It was unfair accusation, and bitterly Hank wanted to rub it back. He swallowed this urge with another gulp and set the bottle aside. Then changed his mind and took it back with him.

The speaker stayed quiet as Hank returned to the couch and stared at the screen. Channels flickering on and off as Connor was flipping through them. Over the course of three days Hank got used to the sound of abrupt phrases or songs cut short with a flip of a channel. It sounded like presence.

"I'll do it tomorrow," Hank promised.

Channel switched to an advertisement clip, a man in uniform holding his thumbs up.

Hank stared at it hypnotised until channels switched again.

"You did it on purpose," he said.

"It repeats every half an hour."

The channels switched again, now to display a fragment of music video, something from the recent hits. 'Over and over again' was its name, shouted during the chorus part accompanied with big inflated letters.

"Jesus, are you actually watching it like this?"

"In a way."

"You want to play something instead?" Hank suggested, "I have a few games in my library or you can pick something else if you don't like what I have."

The screen blinked into the digital library and scrolled through the entries.

"Yes, that could work," Connor said.

He scrolled through the list a few times, up and down. Pointless repetitive nature of it reminded Hank of the coin Connor used to toss around. A gesture weirdly anxious on his part. And annoying. He did comment on that as well, didn't he?

He groaned and took another sip off the bottle. Then finally set it aside.

"Wanna join me?" Connor asked. Something about the tone if his voice made it sound more like an apology than a question.

Hank could feel the room around him starting to spin as the alcohol was now getting absorbed into his bloodstream.

"No," he shook his head,"you should be online, though. I'm sure you can find a company."

He lay down on the couch and stared at the ceiling. The lights from the screen were reflected from its white surface.

"You should go to bed," Connor suggested.

"I'm staying," Hank grumbled. He had been sleeping on the couch ever since the first night Connor spent in his phone. He dreaded the silent emptiness of his bedroom. Plus, the bed was still undone and the sheets...Shit, he left them in the washing machine, didn't he?

"Fuck," he muttered and started to get up, but changed his mind and returned back. 'What does it matter now, anyway?' he thought.

Connor hummed in a question.

"No, nothing," Hank waved his hand in dismissal, "Nothing important."

He sighed, his head heavy against the pillow.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"No, you're not," Hank glanced at the dash camera he previously found in his garage – it still wasn't plugged in and he wasn't even sure if it had any memory card inside, but now he thought that it might be a good idea to turn it on, or to try, at least. He slowed down at the traffic light and as his car came to a complete stop searched for the hanging cable.

"I just remembered that I have a dash cam."

"Are you going to turn it on?"

Hank plugged in the cable and pressed the "on" button – small LED informed him that recording has started.

"Nah."

From a satisfied sound Hank concluded that android found his way to now fully working dash camera.

"Thank you."

For a couple of minutes they drove in silence, interrupted only by some occasional static from the speaker.

"See that woman in front of you?" Connor asked at some point.

"The one with red Honda? I don't see who's driving it, but yeah, whatever. What about her?"

"She's an attorney. She has two kids and she recently filed a divorce, but her husband doesn't know it yet."

"And you're telling me this why exactly?"

"I don't know. I thought it was interesting, and I doubt you'll ever see her again – her vehicle is registered in a different state."

"You know, the way you can just do shit like that makes me...Shit, I don't even know. It's unnerving," Hank removed one of his hands from a steering wheel for a moment to gesture at the last sentence, even though he knew Connor wouldn't see it.

"I've only used publicly available information starting from her license plate number -- it is a part of the public record anyway -- and the rest of it wasn't too hard to find online, knowing her legal name."

"Not sure if it makes it better or worse."

"If it makes you feel better, there is not much I can find this way about you. Most of what I assume were your accounts are either deleted or haven't been updated in years. There are, however, other accounts that are referencing you, and some of them are quite active to this day."

"Even if I never posted anything at all, those jackals would do that for me," Hank shook his head, "Great. Not like I didn't know that already."

He tried to remember whatever it was Connor could even find on his abandoned profile. He barely used it in recent years and only kept it for the sake of getting reminded about upcoming birthdays, even though he didn't really care much about any of them. Still, it felt useful enough.

"And who the fuck is even referencing me?" He asked after a pause.

"It's not something recent, if that's what you're asking. Most of it is dated at least three years back."

"I'm asking names."

"Just your colleagues, mostly, and-"

"My ex wife?"

"Yes."

Hank thought about the last time he saw her. It was the day of Cole's funeral. He avoided looking in her direction during the whole ceremony, cautious not to make any eye-contact. He wasn't there for her, and neither was she. They didn't talk this day.

"Sometimes I wonder how she's doing..," Hank said, without actually meaning to. Over the past three days, it had started to happen to him more and more often - thinking something and blurting it out loud the same moment without a second thought. Not all of it was something he actually wanted to share or hear a response to, but at the same time there was some comfort in knowing that someone would listen, no matter what he had to say. He wondered if Connor was secretly getting tired of him, but at the same time, it didn't seem like he was, as whenever Hank remained quiet for longer than a couple of minutes, the android would say something himself and encouraged Hank to respond, say something. Anything, even if it's just a humming sound, acknowledging his presence.

Connor's voice brought Hank back from his thoughts.

"Do you want me to-"

"-No! Not like this. I just-," he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, thinking "I don't know, I don't want to know too much. Just wondering if..," he sighed, "Shit. Forget it, okay?"

For a while it was quiet, and Hank already decided that it was over when android spoke again.

"She's fine. It seems like she's in a relationships, but not engaged. No kids, two dogs."

"So she moved on, huh...Good to know."

"You're welcome."

"I didn't ask you to do that, by the way."

"Not directly, but I'm good at reading between the lines."

"Only when you don't need to."

"Hank?"

Hank hummed in response, turning on the signal lights to make a turn.

"Do you..."

For the second time of the day Hank hit the brakes when another vehicle abruptly squeezed into the tiny gap in front of him, coming dangerously close to hitting both his car and the one next in line.

"Shit, did you see that? Fucker needs his license recalled."

"I didn't catch it. I can only process a frame every three seconds or so."

"Wait, you serious? So all this time you've been watching a slideshow, not even a laggy video?"

"Basically. I can't process visual data at the same speed I can process audio, as it leaves me almost no space to process anything else, making it quite useless. I do, however, appreciate seeing something, even if it's just static images every couple of seconds."

Hearing it was...upsetting. More so than Hank expected, although he wasn't sure why. He abruptly thought if maybe his phone is too old and it was the time for an update anyway, but then remembered that Connor was saying something just before he got distracted.

"What were you saying before?"

"Oh.. I think you should turn here and go around, there's a huge traffic jam ahead."

"Really?" Hank frowned and glanced at his GPS unit. It usually warned him about things like traffic jams, but it seemed usual, no warnings of any kind. Hank thought about it for a moment, then turned to drive around anyway. Maybe Connor was right. Maybe he was lying. Hank didn't feel like questioning him this time. Maybe he will do that later, "Thanks."