Almost Human
Part 3 of the 'fandoms i know nothing about but wrote for a friend'. 1, 2
âDetective?â
That voice. Heâd know it anywhere, of course, soft and slow and infuriating. Why was he here? Why did he have to be bothering Gavin now, of all possible times?
He looks up. His neck protests at the sudden movementâitâs settled well enough into the hunched, cramped position.Â
Bet the android doesnât have to deal with this.Â
Unnatural freaks.Â
âDetective,â it says again, and he realizes that he still hasnât responded. Gods only know why itâs bothering himâwhereâs Hank? Shouldnât he be keeping this thing on a tight leash?
He almost snorts. Old manâs always been far too soft. Itâll no doubt bite him in the back someday.Â
Or shoot him, as things seem to go more often in this line of work.Â
Not his concern at the moment.Â
âAndroid,â he finally says back. Itâs always aggravated him how the android is taller than him. It feels like some sort of silent inferiority; another example of how theyâre trying to make the robots faster, bigger, better. He used to think that there was no chance of that happening.Â
At the progress theyâre going, perhaps the real future is creeping up on him alarmingly fast.Â
âDo you require assistance?âÂ
And the thing just stands there, straight-backed and suited. Acting like itâs a real human- like itâs clawed its way into this station like he has. How much has he given for his career? Any semblance of having a social life, for one. Heâs bit back all the words that bubble up when the idiots above him make their horrible decisions. All those sacrifices, and yet the robot just waltzes in like it owns the place.
Like itâs better than him.Â
He lurches to his feet. More bones, more joints, protesting at the sudden movement. Whatever. Shorter though he may be, he doesnât want to sit there looking up at the android, seeing his broad frame looming up above him.Â
At this height, heâs an image of brown eyes, dark hair. Shaved clean, smiling politely. His face isnât any better than his chest but at least Gavinâs not looking up anymore.Â
âShouldnât you be on duty, android?â The words come out slanted with annoyance, which is truly the least of his emotions at the moment. âNot wandering the place like a mutt.â
âHank let me out,â he says. âYou looked like you needed help.âÂ
Gavin opens his mouth, prepared to spit some sort of rebukeâwhat is this thing implying? That heâs some sort of helpless thing? That any problems he has can be solved by him?
He closes it again. No use, really, spending his hard-earned free time on arguing with this thing. âGo⊠ah, I dunno. Get me a coffee.â
At least this will get rid of him.Â
âŠ.Except it doesnât. The thing, the android, simply stands there. Looking over Gavin with its gaze. Heâd dearly love to say that his eyes are dead and blank, glazed dark like fish-eyes, but no, theyâve somehow managed to program some sort of life and expression behind them. Like thereâs more than a sea of blue goop and biomechs behind that synthetic skin.Â
It weirds him out.Â
âWell?â
âAre you alright?â The android tilts his head. âYour posture-â
âIs that what I told you to do, huh?âÂ
Itâs an almost disproportionate anger that he feels. First it asks him for help, and then it tries to⊠what? Psychoanalyze him?Â
âI am not obligated to follow your orders.â The android nods once. Throat bobbing up and down. Itâs a small movement; but for whatever reason, it captivates him. Maybe because of how realistic it isâmake them blink, make them twitch, hell, give them the ability to disobey orders.
But this? Thereâs no reason for it to exist besides the fact that they want to make them realistic. A punch in the gut; thatâs what it is, another reminder that maybe one day, heâll be walking down some city street and be unable to tell whatâs human and whatâs not.Â
It makes him want to lash out. To hit something, break something, slam a fist on a wallâor into a convenient subject standing right before him. His fingers twitch. Clenching.Â
The android stares. Heâhe?âsteps away.Â
â...nevertheless, I will do you a favor.â
With that, he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving Gavin with an anger that he canât quite deal with. Really, though, as he looks at the androidâs retreating back, he canât help but think that he wouldnât have. Something about staring into those eyes, dark and liquid-brown. About the twitch of his adamâs apple.Â
He canât be letting him become⊠anything further than a bot. No matter how human he seems; no matter whatever shaved-face theyâve plastered into a facade.Â
Heâs coming back. A small plastic cup, almost dwarfed by his hand. Thereâs a jump in his eyebrows as he walks closer. Like he hasnât been expecting Gavin to still be standing there dumbly, hands by his sides, waiting.Â
Hadnât that been his original plan? To walk away while the bot was busy?
Wordlessly, he proffers the cup. Gavin takes it, despite himself. The transfer from hand-to-hand is awkward, and the androidâs fingers fumble against his for a split second.Â
Fingers. Warm, soft. Human. Itâs another shock out of a thousand. Another way that theyâre bending technology into humanity, mixing the two until theyâll be indistinguishable from one another. If it was dark, if he didnât know, if Gavin grabbed an arm or a hand or laid his palm on a forehead, he wouldnât be able to tell.Â
A vague notion of it runs through his mindâdark room, warm skin. Not the androidâs; simply a strangerânot that heâs had the time to spend time with many strangers in dark rooms.Â
He doesnât thank the android. It doesnât ask for one either. Simply regards him with those dark, shining eyes, head tilted slightly, like heâs looking through Gavinâs head and out the back. Gavin stares back. Words bubbling in his throat; shouted ones, whatâre you looking at or get away.
âConnor!â
Hankâs voice. It breaks him out of his reverie; does the same for the bot. Connor, right. What he calls himself. What Hank calls him too.Â
Soft.
He turns and ambles away. Leaving Gavin with his small cup and his thoughts and the memory of that gaze, that skin, that throat.Â
Human. So close. Almost there, a hairâs breadth away.Â
Connor.Â
















