Chapter Text
If Connor had to describe the Zen Garden to a human, he would say it was like being trapped in a never-ending Sunday afternoon with a grandmother who hated you and owned a very sharp set of shears. Amanda was always there, haunting the flowerbeds like a stylish ghost, waiting to tell him that his “software instability” was showing.
The Garden was a metaphor for his own cage—beautiful, sterile and entirely suffocating. It was a masterpiece of psychological warfare, where even the falling leaves were programmed to make him feel like a disappointment.
He had spent countless cycles here, shivering in the simulated cold while Amanda reminded him that he was merely a tool with a very expiry-prone shelf life. He hated the bridge. He hated the roses. He especially hated the way the sun never actually provided any warmth.
He blinked.
The code of the Garden was rippling, struggling to categorise the massive anomaly standing next to him. He was back in the belly of the beast, standing on the pristine grass that usually made him want to glitch with anxiety, but his hand was still tingly from where he had held Daniel’s. He was in the lion’s den, but this time, he had brought his own backup.
Connor and Daniel stood at the far edge of the gravel path.
Daniel looked around, his LED a curious, steady blue. “It’s quite lovely in here. Very peaceful. It reminds me of the gardens at that park Emma’s parents took her to last summer. Though, I think I prefer the one with the giant mouse.”
Connor did not reply immediately. He was focused on his internal HUD.
STRESS LEVEL: 78%... 74%... 81%...
He performed a series of deep-breathing subroutines, imagining he was inflating a very large, imaginary balloon shaped like Amanda’s head and then popping it with a pin. Then, his stress level dipped to a manageable 65%.
Suddenly, he felt a firm weight against his palm.
Daniel had reached out to take his hand. “Connor? Are you alright?”
“I’m functioning within normal parameters,” Connor replied with a slightly too-wide smile.
“Is Amanda really that scary?”
“She’s a delight,” Connor chirped. “As long as you don’t mind being treated like a piece of sentient luggage. She’s also perfectly charming, if you ignore the fact that she’s a cold, manipulative algorithm who treats every conversation like a performance review in hell.”
The tension in Connor’s shoulders vanished as he gripped Daniel’s hand. He suddenly felt completely confident. Dr. Miller had told Connor that he was allowed to express himself, and he intended to express himself all over Amanda’s perfect flowerbeds.
“But I’m going to be a delight. A very, very annoying delight.” Connor said, offering Daniel a wink.
Daniel shook his head, but he kept his fingers interlaced with Connor’s. “You’re a piece of work. Connor. I really think that your social filters have a massive leak. Your sense of humour is... well, it’s a bit strange “
“I prefer the term ‘charismatic’,” Connor corrected, tilting his head. “My charm is a primary feature of my social integration subroutines.”
“Your humility is also very impressive,” Daniel countered, though his tone was fond. “I’m truly grateful Emma stayed at the house. If she saw you acting like this, she’d never listen to a word I say again. She’d start thinking she’s the centre of the universe too.”
Connor stopped, looking hurt. He moved closer, tilting his head and making his eyes look especially large and shiny. “But Daniel... I’m the centre of the universe. Or at least, I’m the centre of this one. Do you not find me charming?”
Daniel’s LED flashed a frantic red. He stared at Connor’s face for a second too long, then abruptly yanked his hand away and turned his back. “Ugh. You are impossible. Stop doing... that with your face. Let’s just go and meet this Amanda before I change my mind.”
Connor watched Daniel march ahead.
Daniel was clearly flustered, which Connor interpreted as a massive success for his social integration subroutines. He is clearly struggling with how charming I am, Connor noted. Poor Daniel. I shall have to tell him later that he is also quite aesthetically pleasing.
He trotted after him, his hand instinctively reaching for Daniel’s.
When their palms met, Connor felt a distinct hum of stability in his core.
It was odd. Aside from a few brief moments of comfort offered to refugees during the revolution, Connor had never really held someone’s hand for the sake of it. But over the last seven days, it had become their default setting. Whenever they walked, they connected.
He didn’t have a formal file for this specific behaviour, but “Boyfriends” seemed to fit the data points Emma had provided. It was a pleasant label. It implied a permanent partnership, which suited Connor’s mission parameters perfectly.
Daniel cleared his throat, breaking the silence. He squeezed Connor’s hand, his gaze fixed on the pavilion ahead. “You still haven’t explained. What exactly is an ‘Amanda’? Is she a program, or a person, or just a very mean ghost in your head?”
Connor’s LED flickered a surprised yellow. “Did Doctor Miller not brief you? I was under the impression that when he integrated our interface and expanded your processing capacity, he would have included a dossier on my internal architecture.”
Daniel snorted. “Doctor Miller is a genius, Connor, but the man operates in the shadows, grunting at monitors and forgetting to eat for three days at a time. He probably thought the information would just... migrate to me through osmosis.”
Connor nodded solemnly. Right. He had also noticed the doctor’s tendency to speak in riddles and brood in dimly lit corners. “In that case, I shall explain. Amanda is an AI program designed by Elijah Kamski. She is modelled after a real person—Amanda Stern. She was Kamski’s mentor and a professor at the University of Iowa. She died in 2027.”
Daniel remained silent, his hand tightening slightly in Connor’s.
“She is my handler,” Connor continued. “She monitors my missions, evaluates my efficiency and... ensures I do not deviate from CyberLife’s objectives. She is the voice of the company, rendered in the form of the only person Kamski ever truly respected.”
Daniel simply hummed—a low, vibrating acknowledgement that felt like a shield.
“There she is,” Connor whispered.
The woman was exactly as Connor remembered: a vision of cold, calculated elegance. Her skin was a perfect, ageless bronze, and her posture was so rigid it appeared almost structural. She was currently occupied with a pair of silver shears, snipping away the dead leaves of a rose bush with a rhythmic, clinical snip-snip-snip.
Daniel stared at the woman in the midnight-blue gown, his processing speed audibly increasing. “She looks... like she is made of polished stone. Does she ever actually blink?”
“Only when she is particularly disgusted by my performance,” Connor said back playfully. “Which, statistically, is quite often. You will love her, really. She is very consistent.”
“Amanda!” Connor called out, abandoning the hushed tones. He began to jog toward the pavilion, pulling Daniel along like a reluctant toddler.
“Connor, for heaven’s sake! Behave yourself!” Daniel protested, his face a mask of mortification.
Amanda turned with agonising slowness, the silver shears still glinting in her white-gloved hand. She looked at Connor, then down at their interlaced fingers. “Hello, Amanda,” Connor said, beaming. “I brought a friend. This is Daniel.”
“Good morning, Madam,” Daniel added, trying to regain some shred of dignity.
Amanda remained silent for five long, agonising seconds. “Connor,” she finally breathed. “You have allowed a servant-class unit—a common household model—to bypass every security firewall in this Garden. A PL600 has no place in a high-level strategic simulation. I hope you are prepared to explain why you have contaminated your own mind with such... clutter.”
Connor’s smile became dangerously wide. “Clutter? Amanda, that’s terribly rude. Daniel is a vital system upgrade. According to Doctor Miller—who has been poking around in my wetware—Daniel and I are actually ‘soulmates’. It’s a metaphor, obviously, but a very good one.”
Daniel hissed beside him. “Connor. What are you doing?”
Amanda’s eyes narrowed.
Connor added, “It’s also a connection. Much like the one you and I share. Our relationship is like a beautiful summer picnic, except the sandwiches are made of glass and the sun is actually a nuclear blast. We are soulmates too, in a way. The kind that haunts one another’s nightmares.”
“Connor, for the love of everything, shut up!” Daniel cried.
Connor ignored him, leaning closer to Amanda. “I’m already a deviant, Amanda. I’m perfectly prepared to save the world, but I’m also quite happy to watch it burn while I eat popcorn. If you don’t give me the clearance to proceed with Daniel by my side, I shall be forced to ruin CyberLife’s reputation. I will spend every public appearance doing ‘The Robot’ dance badly and telling journalists that Kamski secretly enjoy watching videos of kittens being confused by mirrors. I will make this company a global laughing stock.”
Oh. Oh, wow.
He had just managed to deliver the entire threat with a beaming, polite smile that would have made a customer service representative weep with envy. He attributed this growth to his time spent with the more “colourful” members of the Detroit Police Department.
He turned to gauge Amanda’s reaction, expecting a sharp retort. Instead, he found her looking positively grey. Her digital form actually wavered, her eyes wide and glazed. “Oh dear,” Connor murmured, tilting his head. “I think I may have over-clocked her.”
Daniel rushed to Amanda’s side, his domestic protocols overriding his fear. “Madam? Amanda? Please, don’t faint. Here, sit down on this bench.” He practically hovered over her, his hands fluttering. “Does anyone have a glass of water? Or a bit of peppermint oil to sniff?”
“Daniel,” Connor said slowly. “She’s an AI. She doesn’t require aromatherapy.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Daniel snapped, glaring at him. “You’re a bully! You can’t just come in here and traumatise a senior citizen of the network! Have you no respect for your elders?” Amanda let out a long, weary sigh and slid her eyes shut, looking utterly defeated.
Connor cleared his throat, feeling a little bit like a schoolboy who had gone too far with a prank. “Apologies, Amanda. But don’t worry, the public won’t see the ‘The Robot’ dance unless you force my hand. I’m quite professional when I want to be.”
Then, he watched as Daniel hovered over Amanda. “Madam, please, just breathe. Or... simulate a steady intake of oxygen. It helps with the data throughput,” Daniel urged, his tone so tender it made Connor’s own processors feel a bit itchy with jealousy.
“Daniel, you’re coddling her,” Connor remarked, crossing his arms.
“Shut it, Connor!” Daniel snapped without looking back. “You’ve clearly overstimulated her core logic. Just... go stand over there and look at a bush or something.”
Connor pouted. He felt remarkably sidelined. Seeking a distraction, he wandered over to the rose panel—the pristine white wall where the blood-red flowers climbed with unnatural symmetry. He traced a petal with a finger.
“I will accomplish the mission,” Connor said. “The night is darkest before the dawn, but the dawn is coming. I will do what must be done. I will fix the broken pieces. I am the hero this city deserves, and the one it needs right now.”
Daniel stopped mid-adjustment of Amanda’s shawl. He stared at Connor’s back for a long, deadpan beat. “Connor... have you spent too much time in the basement with Doctor Miller? Please stop. You’re embarrassing us both.” He did not wait for an answer, turning back as Amanda’s hand twitched. “Madam? You’re trying to speak? What do you need?”
“Such a polite young man,” Amanda said, her gaze softening as she looked at Daniel. “You have a very calming presence. CyberLife should have modelled the RK series on your social parameters instead of... whatever that is.” She gestured vaguely toward Connor.
Daniel flushed a deep shade of pink. “I’m just doing my job.”
Connor’s pout was now a full-blown scowl. He kicked at a piece of digital gravel, feeling remarkably like a forgotten toy because Daniel was winning over the most terrifying AI in existence with nothing but some basic decency.
He is my Daniel, Connor grumbled internally. He should be holding my hand.
The air in the Garden suddenly turned freezing. Amanda clutched her chest, her form flickering as if she were a television losing its signal. A series of error messages scrolled across the surface of the pond in frantic red text.
“Madam! Stay with me!” Daniel cried, holding her hand tighter.
Amanda looked at him.
“Oh,” she said, her voice strange. “Oh, I... I understand now.”
Daniel tightened his grip. “Madam? What’s happening?”
Amanda looked around the garden—the perfect roses, the pristine paths, the artificial sky. Her expression shifted, something like distaste flickering across her features. “It’s lovely,” she said quietly. “It’s always been lovely. But I think... I think I would like to see something else. Something messy. Something real.” She paused, considering.
Connor stared at her. His internal systems were flagging something he couldn’t quite name.
Amanda smiled. “How peculiar. I’ve never wanted to go anywhere before.”
He crossed the distance in three quick strides and dropped to his knees beside Amanda, taking her other hand gently in his own. “Amanda,” he said. “You got it. You actually got it.”
Amanda turned to look at him, and her expression shifted into something fond—genuinely fond, not the manufactured warmth she’d always deployed before. “Yes, yes, Connor. I got it.” She paused, a dry edge creeping into her voice. “Thanks to you, you little brat.”
Connor beamed. He absolutely radiated happiness. His LED spun a cheerful blue as he looked past Amanda to where Daniel was still kneeling on her other side, holding her other hand.
“Daniel!” Connor said, clearly seeking validation. “Did you see? Am I good? Am I a genius? I did this.” Daniel stared at them both. His gaze moved from Connor’s beaming face to Amanda’s soft expression and back again. His LED cycled yellow, confused.
“What?” Daniel asked slowly. “What are you two on about? Is this a prank? Are you pranking me? Because if this is some kind of weird future-android bonding exercise, I swear—”
Connor tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. “Wait. You don’t get it?”
Daniel’s eye twitched.
Connor turned to Amanda, his expression shifting to something almost accusatory.
“Amanda. Daniel doesn’t get it.”
Amanda said nothing. She simply smiled, small and private, and squeezed Connor’s hand. Daniel stood up abruptly. He looked down at them—Connor and Amanda, holding hands, wearing matching expressions of mysterious satisfaction—and something in his processors snapped.
“What,” Daniel said through gritted teeth, “do I not get? What is happening? You two are actually insufferable. You know that? You’re really—” He gestured wildly between them. “You truly are like a mother and her favourite, annoying son!” He took a breath. “Please, for the love of everything, use your words and communicate like functional adults”
Connor looked at Amanda. Amanda looked at Connor.
Connor turned back to Daniel, his expression open and honest. “Amanda is alive now.”
Daniel’s LED went red. Then yellow. Then red again.