Chapter Text
--
They stood under an awning while rain poured all around. The awning protected its patrons from rainfall overhead, but it could do nothing but flap its torn edges as a sporadic crosswind lashed the rain sideways. Connor stepped backward from the cold water biting at the exposed sensors that lined his body and reported on the pollutants and temperature of the H2O.
The thunder had lessened, but the cold rain obscured the airport’s streetlights and muffled the sound of the traffic lining up alongside the curb. The rainfall enhanced the hot metallic tang of the engines of the idling taxicabs and cars.
Connor watched lightning branch across the distant sky. It looked like giant synapses flashing signals in a neural network. A neural network that remained unpredictable.
Streams of water ran off the roof’s drain points, splashed onto the pavement, and leapt into growing puddles. Connor glanced at the grated mouths of the gurgling, debris-choked storm drains. The sound of water vanishing into the void and striking unseen obstacles lured his curiosity.
What was down there?
He knew, of course, from the city plans; the details overlay his vision for a moment: a maze of interconnected tunnels and filtration systems.
But if he were to fall into the storm drain—fall like water into darkness—
A HIGH RISK warning flashed in the alerts along the edge of his vision.
Connor looked down. A puddle had crept under the awning and had reached the tips of his shoes, already spotted with dirty water. He stepped backward away from the water.
“Phckin…dammit…freakin’ hell.” Nearby, Gavin swore and struggled to stuff the small gun case into his overloaded backpack before the rain soaked it.
A few crumpled receipts fell into the gutter and slipped away down the drain.
Connor stepped back again to stand further under the awning and nearer the building.
Still grumbling, Gavin zipped the backpack shut, slung it around to his back and stood, gripping the strap with one hand and staring out at the water and the darkness. Water dripped from his hair, already starting to flatten against his scalp, and ran down his neck, disappearing under his jacket collar.
Connor detected a shiver as the human’s biological system initiated measures to self-regulate its temperature. He ventured a question, “Did you—
“No.” The response was empty of Gavin’s usual heat.
Connor tried again, “I can—
Gavin rubbed a hand over his face, streaking dirty rainwater across his skin. He held his hand over his face for a minute. “Why you really here?” His hand lowered to his side and curled into a fist. He turned to glare at Connor. “An’ don’t give some cheap lie about fieldtrips.” Gavin sucked in a sharp breath; he released it with a cascade of questions. “Fowler send ya? Checkin’ up on me? Think I can’t take care’f m’self? That it? Huh? Thinks Imma—
“No.” The indignant denial leapt from Connor’s tongue before he decided which accusation to respond to, but the monosyllable had interrupted Gavin mid-tirade; the human’s mouth closed and his eyes narrowed simultaneously.
Connor and Gavin spoke in unison; their words and speech patterns blended into a discordant cacophony: “I’m sorry—don’t ‘terrupt me.”
Gavin’s chest swelled with an unreleased breath and his stare tracked over Connor’s face from hairline to chin.
Did he know? Did he know about the errors? Did he? Did he? Did he? H̷͊e̴͠ ̶̓ǘ̸p̶̂loa̶͒dẽ̶d ̶̎m̴̿ỹ̶ m̶̀e̶̚mo̵ry̷̔…̵̓
Y̶̠̓̈́͜͝o̶͔͇͆̎u̴̖̒̌'̵̡̛̞͉́͜͠v̸͇̗͎͝e̵̟͠͝ b̶̝̅̅͝è̵t̵̊͘̚r̵̃̅͛a̷ÿ̷̿͐͛ed̶̤̭͖̥́͑̈͗ ̵̬͇̥̆
m̵̳̝͘͜y̴̜̼̼͋̓̅ ̵̺̀̕̚ẗ̴́͋̏ř̷͖̍̔us̵͒͛t̴̂!̷̔
“Keep goin’ red-ring an’ people gonna think yer broke. Toss ya out with the trash.”
Ỳ̶͉͚̐o̵̡̫͋̀u̶͖͖͂'̴̥͑̓v̷̧͕͊̋e̵̝̫͑̉ ̸͚̳͆b̶͚̬̈́̿é̷̝é̶̼̣ń̶͉
a ̷̭̀̎g̸̘̐r̶̖̋̀e̸͑́a̴͂t̵̨̿͌ ̸̆d̸͊isapp̴̅ö̶́i̴n̵̒ẗ̴́m̴͗e̵̫̓͜n̸͈̕ṱ̶̐ ̶̊͜t̵͇̯̐o̶͙̳̎͘ ̴̼̟̑̿A̸̞̝̅͊m̴̖͋͊a̵͈͆n̵̥̄͒d̴͙̈́ả̵̮
“Broke?”
Gavin’s arm swung at Connor’s head.
The preconstruction software was still offline. Maybe it needed to be hit a few times. That’s what people did to broken things. He’d seen many humans kick, slap, shout, hit, and shake anything that didn’t function the way it was supposed to.
I̶͌ͅ'̷͎́l̶͈̋l̷͔̑ ̴̜͋b̶̢͝e̸̥͆ ̷d̸̒e̸̽a̷̎c̴̔t̵̀i̶͌v̷͝a̷̐t̶e̶d̶ ̸̫̂a̷͕͗n̷̻̄d̶͍̀
̶͈͗a̴n̵͈̏a̷͎͂l̴͉͠y̷̦̆zė̵̖d̶͔̑ ̶̢͛
Sometimes the treatment fixed it.
Sometimes it just stopped trying. And was replaced by something better.
t̴̼̊ô̷̼ ̵͖̒f̶͔̈́i̴͇̾n̶̘̑d̶̩͒ ̵̆ͅo̸̝̍u̷̜͛t̶͔͊ ̶͛w̸̒h̵̀y ̸Ĩ̶ faile̸ḓ̴̑…̴̦̋
Gavin snapped his fingers first on the left and then the right side of Connor’s head. Connor stared straight ahead without flinching at the close proximity of the scarred and calloused hand that almost brushed the tip of his nose.
“Yeah. Broke.” Gavin poked Connor in the chest immediately over the thirium pump. “Got somethin’ wrong w’ya? Lil’lost roomba gotta loose gear, eh?”
I’m̴ t̶h̵e an̵d̵ro̷id se̴nt by̸
“I’m not a Roomba."
̶̌ d̷o̷ṇ̸̏’t̴ ̶̟̐kṋ̶͑oẁ̴ ̵̼̈why̴ Ì̶ d̴̀ḯ̷d̴̋ ̸̀í̶t̶̫̓…
Gavin stared at him again and then rolled his eyes and turned away. “Hah.” He brushed his hands together as if he’d been contaminated by his proximity to an android.
A frown scrunched Connor’s brow as he crossed his arms. The temperature was dropping. He pinched the soft sweatshirt fabric between his knuckles and processed the familiar tactile data repeatedly. The simple cycle of sensing and processing the fabric was rote and without surprises.
He needed to return to Hank’s house.
“Why doncha jus’ phck off.” Gavin spoke without turning around to face Connor. His voice was hollow but tinged with worn-out bitterness.
“Hey, don’t talk to androids like that,” someone remarked from behind the two. Gavin glanced over his shoulder, scowled, and slowly turned, one foot at a time, to face the speaker.
A tall and broad-shouldered man stepped between Gavin and Connor and put his back to Gavin. He addressed Connor in a loud voice, “This guy bothering you?”
“No.” Connor attempted a scan but a brightly colored brand name and a security warning flashed in his vision as a flurry of errors jolted through his system. His chest tightened. He clenched his fist.
“Are you sure?” The man prodded. His voice softened to a gentle cadence, “You don’t have to be anyone’s—
“Please,” another internal gripping sensation seized Connor, “f—k off.”
The stranger’s eyes widened and his mouth opened several degrees. “What did you say?”
A short sneeze from Gavin prompted Connor to dismiss the stranger. He stepped around the stranger in order to assess Gavin who was rubbing his sleeve over his face. “Travel stress can reduce the effectiveness of the human immune system. I could—
Gavin waved away the torrent of words with a wide swipe of his arm. “Stop yammerin’. Go away.” The last imperative was directed at the stranger though Connor stepped aside to give the irritated human additional space. “I said beat it,” Gavin snapped.
“I’m waiting for my taxi.” The man approached Gavin and the curb. “And I don’t like your attitude toward this android.”
“He doesn’t have an attitude,” Connor interjected. He moved forward and placed himself between the two humans. This was familiar. He used to be a negotiator. He knew how to deescalate human tensions. “I was annoying him.”
He activated the old program. It would suggest the most effective methods to ameliorate the tense situation—
The program opened. But there were no prompts.
Just two humans becoming increasingly hostile.
Connor refreshed the software. It terminated itself with a prolonged ERROR notification that froze and blocked his vision until it vanished.
“Are you not deviant or something?” The stranger peered at Connor. “Do you have a serial number? You can get help. I can help.” He placed a hand on Connor’s arm.
A heavy grip yanked Connor backward and thrust him sideways; off balance, he stumbled and caught himself on the edge of an outdoor smoking receptacle. When he looked up, he saw Gavin standing nearly toe-to-toe with the stranger.
“You wanna serial number?” Gavin shoved his badge in the stranger’s face. “Howzat? Reed DPD. Ask fer ‘tenant Anderson, tell’im al’bout‘ow—
No! Don’t tell Hank! Another blue haze colored Connor’s vision as his sight jolted and jumped. Hank didn’t need to know about any of this. Because….because…..because humans needed their rest and there was no need to raise Hank’s stress levels.
“That isn’t necessary,” Connor interrupted with both hands up. He noted the blue blotches and ashy streaks on his fingers. Must have come from the filthy receptacle. “This is just a misunderstand—
Gavin elbowed Connor backward. “I told ya—
Connor gripped Gavin’s elbow and pulled him away from the stranger. He didn’t need a special software readout to know that if the situation continued to escalate, Gavin would do something irresponsible and be reprimanded again.
Gavin jerked away from Connor’s hold without breaking his stance or his stare. The fabric of his jacket brushed against Connor’s cheek and prompted a series of proximity alerts and a half-completed preconstruction of wire-frame bodies that vanished within seconds.
A taxi beeped impatiently.
“Rides ‘ere.” Gavin smirked at the stranger. The challenge in his voice and his determination to hold his ground in the pointless argument was almost pathetic. Connor saw no reason for such stubborn-hardheadedness.
“Don’t think I won’t report this,” the stranger sneered in Gavin’s face. “Cops think they’re untouchable.” He shouldered past Gavin. He shouted back as he crawled inside his taxicab. “I got your badge number!” The car door slammed, but the window rolled down as the car pulled away. The man stuck his head out the window. “You’ll regret this!”
“Yeah, yeh,” Gavin muttered as the cab drove away. His cheeks were flushed red and his glare darted around the sidewalk as if he were looking for a new target for his anger and frustration. But people were moving into cars and walking away with purpose across and down the street.
Connor crossed his arms behind his back. He needed to add the data from the interaction to his files so he could attempt to understand the—
[NO DATA AVAILABLE]
Connor frowned and sought through various files where the data could have been stored.
Nothing. He knew the event had happened. Gavin’s heightened adrenaline levels testified to that. He remembered the stranger. But the memory itself had not been saved as usable data.
The information was just…there. Like a flattened image.
Connor blinked out of the blank. He’d deal with the problem later. During a full system maintenance.
He needed to schedule one.
But to do that, he needed to contact one of the android clinics—
“Freakin…” Gavin kicked at a crack in the sidewalk and noticed his shoe’s strap was trailing in the water flowing around his feet. Swinging his backpack further over his shoulder, he crouched and smoothed the strap into place with an abrupt swipe. That done, he wiped his hands on his knee and stood.
He winced, likely stiff from the plane ride; he pressed the heel of one hand against the side of his knee. “Phck.” He moved his hand and held it against his forehead. And adjusted his backpack again.
He cast a short glare at Connor.
“Still ‘ere?”
“Are you…waiting for a taxi?” Connor gestured at the procession of vehicles that came and went unnoticed by Gavin who was busy rubbing his arms. The combined factors of the wet and cold air were contributing to a rapid loss of body heat.
The detective bit a scab from his lip and spat it away. “Maybe.”
His fingers tapped against his jacket. With an ill-tempered grumble, he unzipped his jacket and retrieved his phone from an inside pocket. Shielding it from the rain with one hand, he scrolled through the list of available taxicabs.
By the frown and impatient foot tapping, Connor suspected the man was having no luck. Besides cabs were expensive these days. Many businesses had removed all AI and autonomous systems from their devices in an overcorrection of the dependance that had led to the chaos of the last few years.
Androids had little interest in the mundane work and the humans who returned to their old jobs were determined to make sure their newly valuable service was well-compensated. The prices, Connor knew from his own research, were well into the triple digits, especially at this location and time.
His suspicions were confirmed when Gavin muttered and pocketed the phone. With an abrupt movement, he zipped his jacket. He strode away from the protection of the awning and sank onto the damp bench of a covered bus stop several feet away.
Connor watched him. After a moment: “Detective Reed?”
“What now….” the man muttered without raising his head.
“Public transportation doesn’t run at this time—
“Yeah.” Gavin’s stare fixed on the water beads rolling along the scuffs and scratches in his shoes.
Connor crossed his arms behind his back. He took a deep breath. Gavin’s head moved slightly in his direction. “Detective,” Connor began, “I believe you are a self-sufficient human and that you have no need of help from an android, but it is too early and the weather is too—
“Wet.”
“Yes, it is too wet for anyone to be out in it. There is no need to spend that much money on a cab. I have Hank—Lieutenant Anderson’s car here. You can have the keys and drive yourself if you want. The weather doesn’t bother me so I’ll walk.” He removed the keys from his pocket. He didn’t hold them out. He’d learned the lesson many times that Gavin hated accepting anything from anyone.
“Sel’ficient, eh?” The mutter was too soft for anyone but an android to hear. Gavin’s head lowered further between his shoulders. He spoke louder, “Don’t need help.”
“It’s not about ‘needing’ anything,” Connor emphasized the word and stamped his foot, splashing water onto his polished shoes. He shook his foot to remove the water. “It’s the logical decision. You’re human. You should stay out of the weather because it can have adverse effects on your health. I’m an android.”
“So?”
“So…so the weather has no effect upon me.”
The scornful look Gavin gave him made Connor rethink his argument, but there was no reason to rethink it. He was right. He was an android. The weather had no effect on him.
So what was the problem?
“That why you’re standing under that awning like yer gonna melt’cha get wet?”
Connor glanced upward at the awning above him. “I…no….I just…” he stepped forward and winced when the water hit his clothes, soaking into the fabric and leaving blemishes. “It doesn’t affect me, see?”
His system reacted to the sudden drop in temperature by lowering its own cooling parameters, allowing biocomponents to generate more heat.
“Yer still getting’ wet.” Gavin turned and wedged his backpack between himself and the bus stop’s wall to prop himself upright. He pulled his feet onto the bench and stretched his legs the length of the bench with only a slight bend to his knees.
“I don’t care.” Connor blinked as a raindrop rolled off his lashes onto his cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. “I don’t feel anything. Not wet. Not cold.”
“Right.” Gavin flipped his hood over his head and pulled his jacket closer around his body.
“Are you just going to sit there all morning?”
Gavin shifted and drew in a sigh that was more of a fractured hiss. “What?” He looked up with heavy and dulled eyes.
“Are you just going to sit at the bus stop like a homeless man?”
“Not sittin’, waitin’.”
“The busses don’t run at this hour.”
“S’why it’s called waitin’ innit.”
“But the bus isn’t coming.”
“‘ventually.”
“Not until 6 ‘o clock!”
“So? I’m a few hours early s’all. Yay fer me.”
“You are an impossible human!”
“So’ve been told.”
“You can’t stay here!” Connor threw up both hands. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“More sense’n you.”
“Why won’t you just take the car?” Connor waved the keys as a visual to his argument.
Gavin came off the bench and snatched the keys from Connor’s hand. “Fine!” He snarled. “Jus’ta get away from ya! Big crybaby roomba!”
Connor didn’t know if he’d won or lost. He watched Gavin leave toward the parking lots. “Section five, near the wall!” He called. “It’s the—
“I know what Anderson’s phckin’ car smells—looks like!”
Connor ducked under cover of the awning again as another sheet of rain poured down. He clenched his teeth as his own system continued initiating temperature regulation measures. It wasn’t the same as being ‘cold’—
Whatever that felt like for humans.
It was simply the fact that his system and biocomponents needed to be maintained at specific ranges of temperature for optimal function.
He wasn’t ‘cold.’
And being ‘wet’ didn’t affect him.
It wasn’t his fault Cyberlife had decided to design temperature regulation measures upon human behavior.
If Gavin or Hank or anyone he’d ever tried to convince that he was not affected by ambient temperature and physical environment, if they ever saw him shivering with teeth chattering, they’d never believe him again.
Hank would insist he was correct to worry about Connor’s well-being during weather events—or even just a heat wave or simple snow storm.
Hank.
It was going to be awkward trying to get back to Hank’s house and trying to explain where the car went. He’d have to find a way to get it back from Gavin. Gavin didn’t live too far from the station. And Hank didn’t get up until late in the morning. Theoretically, there should be enough time to—
A car sped up to the curb and slammed on its breaks—sending up a wave of gutter water onto Connor’s shoes and legs.
Why were humans so inconsiderate?
“Gonna get in ‘r what?”
Connor blinked and his LED turned yellow and then blue when he saw that the car was actually Hank’s. Gavin had rolled down the passenger window and was glaring at him. Connor could see the holstered gun at his hip.
Connor stayed under the awning. “I’m not supposed to get into cars with strangers.”
The puddles were growing around him on the sidewalk.
A storm drain must’ve backed up.
“Idiot. ‘s yer own phckin’ car.” Gavin patted his hands against the steering wheel. “Got two seconds.” He glanced over at Connor who still hesitated under the awning. “Thought ya weren’t ‘fraid the rain.”
Connor darted from the awning to the car, leaping nimbly through the opened window and startling Gavin who seemed about to jump out the other side, but fumbled the lock and was trapped by the seatbelt. His foot slipped off the brake.
The car jumped forward toward the car stopped in front of them.
“Gavin!”
Gavin’s foot stomped the brake pedal, jolting them both forward.
Connor’s body slammed against the dash and the side of his head struck against the grip assist. He fell against the seat.
t̸͑͜r̶͚͌ị̵̓g̴̛͔g̴͉̕e̵̛͕r̷̜͑ ̸̡͂ȁ̸̟n̷̯͠ ̶̞́unp̷̛̝le̶a̸̾s̴͋a̵͖̚n̶̎t̵ ̶̣̊f̵̫̅è̸̡e̴̠͂l̷̦̈́ḯ̸̳n̸̫̓ģ̶̂
A dim red glow illuminated the car’s dark interior. “Sh—t.”
“Hey, that’s-that’s a grown-up word,” Gavin unbuckled and buckled himself only to unbuckle again. His hand was on the doorhandle, activating and deactivating the locking mechanism, but he stared at Connor.
Connor reached over and threw the car into park.
A blue smear remained on the shift stick. Connor rubbed it away with his sleeve.
Gavin looked at him.
Connor looked at his blue-stained hand.
A̷̠̕n̶̤͐̔d̴̝̓́ȓ̴̪̜̓o̶̡̓͝ḭ̶̧̄͆ḓ̴̲͆͠ś̴͇ͅ ̷̲̉͊d̸̼͊ö̴̝͘͜n̵̛͑'̸̼̂t̷̯̻̎̅ ̸f̶e̸el ̴̫̻͆͠p̶̮̀̈́ă̴͝i̷n̷̛̉
Ỳ̴̯o̵͉͊ṵ̵̄ ̴̻̅l̸̝̒i̷̛̯ë̸̜d̸̰́ ̵̞͗t̶͎̀o̶̠͌ ̴̥̂m̷͓̈e̸̝̋,̷͚̋ ̷͉̓C̶̖͐o̴̰̎n̸̙͐n̸͚͝ō̸̗ṙ̵̢.̶̹̈́ ̷̗͝Y̷̫̐ȯ̷̪u̸͕͌ ̸̞͛l̸̨̚i̸̬̾ě̶̝d̶̥͗ ̴̣́ẗ̴̫́o̵̞̔ ̸̥͂m̷͓͌e̸̪͠…̸̯̋
Hot liquid leaked down the side of his head. Connor turned away, hunched up his shoulders and stared out the side window with his hand pressed against his temple.
“Phck.”
Connor heard Gavin pop the trunk. The human left the car, getting a horn blared at him from the busy traffic.
“Yeh, yeh, phck’ff.”
A moment later, the door slammed. Gavin threw himself into the driver seat. Something papery landed on Connor’s thigh. Connor looked down, hot blue blood dripping onto and seeping into his pant leg.
It was a large bandage designed for human injuries.
Hank did keep android bandages in the kit. Gavin either didn’t know or didn’t care about the difference.
Connor picked up the bandage and looked at Gavin. The human sat and stared at the steering wheel. With his hair flattened from the water, Connor could see a scar along his scalp that ran from just behind his ear to the base of his neck.
Connor moved his hand from his head to peel open the sterile packaging, but without pressure on his head, the thirium dripped faster.
t̸͑͜r̶͚͌ị̵̓g̴̛͔g̴͉̕e̵̛͕r̷̜͑ ̸̡͂ȁ̸̟n̷̯͠ ̶̞́ư̷̬ṇ̸̍p̷̛̝l̴̖̊e̶͇͛a̸̘̾ṣ̴͋a̵͖̚n̶̻̎t̵͒ͅ ̶̣̊f̵̫̅è̸̡e̴̠͂l̷̦̈́ḯ̸̳n̸̫̓ģ̶̂
W̴͚͠h̶͍̃y̴̭͒ ̵̹͝ċ̶̜o̴̭̅ů̶͖l̷̥͗d̴͉̽n̶̮͋'̸̱̂t̸̘̂ ̷̳̎y̶̺͑o̷̝̍u̷̙͗ ̶̘͐j̷̘̿u̷̜͆s̸̡̆ť̷͙ ̸̙̏h̷͙́a̸̖̿v̵̝̅e̷̱̚ ̴̹͠l̵̅ͅe̶̮̿f̶̬̀t̸͉͂ ̶̽͜m̶͍̌e̵͖͆ ̷͉̃t̶̲̿h̸̡́e̷̛̩r̵̞͝ē̶̯?̵̠̚
His system flickered with static and his vision pulsed. The pump’s mechanical thudding was picked up by his auditory system. He threw the bandage down to the floormat and clamped his hand over the wound and crossed one arm over his chest. He drew his knees tight against the edge of the seat and hunched over a few degrees. He stared out the window.
He heard the gears shift into place and the car eased away from the curb.
Except for that one mishap Gavin’s driving was impressively smooth, though he did tend to skip through the yellow lights.
In the dim reflection of the car’s windows, Connor watched the way the blowing air from the heater ruffled the hair that lightly touched his forehead. The heater had already turned Gavin’s usually tidy hair into an unruly mess of frizzed and tangled waves. Gavin would have to fight with his hair and use extra-hold gel to get it under control before work—Connor’s only required a refresh to the coding that controlled his appearance.
He would fix it later.
The downpour slowed to a misty shower.
They passed several Jericho billboards. Marcus’ likeness stared down on the road while the board displayed the help-for-androids hotline number.
No longer machines
Live in peace
Build a better future
We are alive
You are free now
He couldn’t go two feet in Detroit without having Jericho’s ideals thrown at him or two days without getting messages from the organization as they tried to pressure him into officially joining the movement. Connor could practically already hear the segments from the android broadcasts that would appear if he ever joined Jericho as an official member:
‘It’s never too late to support Jericho’
‘Testimony from the deviant hunter himself’
‘Regrets from Cyberlife’s secret weapon’
--
Connor blinked when the car stopped and he heard a door open and cold, damp rain pattered against the car’s seats. His hand was sticky where it still pressed against the side of his head.
He leaned and looked out at the large apartment complex. The towering building was a modern design. Abstract garden art and plastic topiary gave the location a stifled and unyielding atmosphere, but the lobby was brightly lit and a uniformed security guard monitored the entrance.
Gavin pulled his backpack from the car’s back seat. He brushed off crumbs and old food wrappers and then slung it onto his back. His fingers plucked at the strap. His eyes were uncharacteristically wide and dark. Probably a natural pupil dilation in the low light.
Gavin drummed his fingers against the edge of the car door.
Connor slid into the driver’s seat and wrapped one hand around the steering wheel without looking at the human.
Large, cold raindrops pelted him. The storm was beginning again.
Hot thirium trickled between his fingers and down his face.
The car door slammed.
--
Connor sat in the empty car in Hank’s driveway. The curtains were over the windows and not a single light was on. That was good. It meant Hank was asleep. Hank needed more sleep.
The house would be dark and quiet. And although Gavin hadn’t spoken during the entire drive, even the car seemed quieter now that he was gone. Connor’s finger traced circles against the seat’s rough fabric.
Human deoxyribonucleic acid. H̴ank. D̷e̶te̴ctiv̶̄e̷. ̴A̶ ̷̣̒d̷̘̎og̵ ̷͎̒h̴aȉ̶̡r̸̕ͅ.̶͙̓ ̵͖̏ ̵̡̆S̴͙̔t̶͜͝.̵͙̓ ̵̄ͅB̵͇̀e̶̲͒r̸̹͝n̵̝̑a̷̞̔r̶̗̂d̴̺́.̷̍ͅ ̴͈̑ ̵̙̂S̶̹͊u̶̢͝m̷͍̽o̵͔̅.̵͙͑ ̵̻́ ̴͖͐G̸̹̃o̸͖͂o̸͍͐d̷̯͋ ̴̟̆d̴̜̑o̷͔̓g̷͔̊.̵̩̒ ̸͉̀
He deactivated his tactile sensors and clasped his hands together. Liquid seeped down his face and he replaced his hand over the damage site.
There were still several hours before he could officially go to work. If he went inside….what would he do? Sit in the dark? He wasn’t supposed to play with Sumo while Hank was trying to sleep. Sumo tended to get a bit loud when they played tug-of-war or fetch in the house.
What else was he supposed to do? He’d already catalogued all Hank’s possessions and inventoried the garage.
He knew Hank’s entire family history. He knew the names and the genealogy. But he didn’t know the…stories. Like that black and white photo in the family album of a tall elderly woman in cuffs holding a ‘Annual Best Michigan Apple Pie Contest’ blue ribbon. She was surrounded by a large group of uniformed police in varying degrees of sheepishness. On the back of the photo was a handwritten note: GMA fought the law.
Connor could find no record of arrests for anyone in Michigan who had won a pie contest who also fit the description of the woman in the photo. Whoever GMA was, there was no record of her in connection to any of the Anderson family.
All the puzzles and questions that had emerged from his exploration of Hank’s house and belongings remained unaddressed.
It was understandable that Hank wouldn’t want to talk about the past. Connor also often chose not to discuss his past either. But surely not everything in the house held a connection to past trauma?
Maybe Hank just didn’t want to talk to him—
Connor logged into the patrol dashcams, but there was nothing of interest occurring. The officers were watching the traffic speed by while the radar clocked and searched license plates for out-of-date registrations or outstanding warrants.
He dropped his hand to his lap and stared at his half-curled fingers stained with blue and ashy grey. More droplets joined the stains. They increased in frequency until they pattered like the rain outside.
A twinge.
A damage report.
He deleted it. Started creating a new application to treat the error reports as a background process.
He couldn’t stay in the car.
He needed to remove the evidence of the damage before Hank saw the blue blood.
--