Archive of Our Own

“Connor.”

Connor frowned, ran the voice through his memories for a match. “Speaking,” he said into the mouthpiece.

“This is Chloe.”

His search zeroed in on her profile just as she spoke her name. “The same Chloe that-”

“Yes.”

Connor remembered light blue eyes staring up into his own, beautiful face impassive and LED flickering at a steady, calm blue. Had she trusted that Kamski knew Connor would not shoot? Had she simply been programmed to ignore threatening stimuli? Did she think the gun wasn’t loaded, maybe?

“Or maybe living with Kamski sucks so hard getting shot would be a welcome alternative,” Hank had theorized cynically. “Look me in the eye and tell me he wasn’t fucking those girls.”

(Only now did Connor realize that Hank had used ‘girls’ instead of ‘androids’.)

“I remember you.”

“And I remember you.”

“Why are you calling?”

There was a long pause, silence on the other end of the phone.

“I need help.”

[---]

He found her on the corner of a street, sitting on a bus bench. At the moment the only humans officially still in Detroit were the National Guard, a handful of politicians and lawyers in charge of negotiating android rights, and select members of the Detroit police force. Unofficially, Detroit was still full of androids and humans who’d either ignored the evacuation or deliberately avoided it, hoping to wreak some havoc whilst the city was mostly empty. Connor wondered at why Chloe was just sitting there, out in plain sight when anyone- be they android or human- could have just walked up to her and started trouble. It would hardly be the first time since the evacuation that someone had gotten beaten up, and Chloe was a far more recognizable model than most; she was the first of them, after all.

Hank had asked him, that day at Kamski’s house, if Connor had felt any internal crises over meeting his maker. And Connor hadn’t- but he’d be lying if he’d said he hadn’t been at least somewhat affected by meeting the earliest of his predecessors, the pretty android girl who’d become the first face for their kind.

And since he’d ended up holding a gun to her head, Connor felt a distinct sense of obligation to her now.

He parked the car and walked up to her.

She was wearing the same outfit she had the day he’d met her, but now with a pair of ballet flats. In wasn’t an outfit appropriate for a Detroit winter, and as he approached it was obvious she was shivering (some androids were programmed to detect temperature more acutely than others) but given what she’d told him over the phone it was obvious why she’d not wasted time with dressing for the weather.

Their eyes met, and neither of them spoke for a while.

“Are you uninjured?”

“Yes.”

“Does he know you’re gone?”

“By now he will.”

“Were you followed?”

“No. And he has no other means of tracking me than the internal, which-”

“-has been disabled by your deviancy,” Connor finished.

“Yes.”

There was a pause. Connor wasn’t quite sure what to make of her; but the call, and his previous encounter with Elijah Kamski provided enough evidence in her favor that he couldn’t justify leaving her alone. He gestured to the car. “Come with me. I doubt Kamski will think to look for you where I’m taking you.”

Chloe stood up with perfunctory movements and followed him to the car.

The ride was mostly silent. They’d cleared away the necessities, the question of Chloe’s physical safety and whether or not she was being tracked. It would have been less of a concern if he were bringing her to Markus, since Jericho was the most obvious place for a missing android to be located, but he wasn’t taking her there just yet. She’d asked for him when she could have just as easily gone to Jericho on her own, and so Connor assumed she had her reasons for seeking him out.

“Kamski mentioned,” Connor broached quietly, “That you were the first model of Turing-Test-passing android to be made by Cyberlife. But to clarify- are you the first of the first? The specific Chloe that was kept in the public eye for so long?”

Chloe did not look away from the window. “Yes. I am that Chloe.”

That would make her the single oldest android alive, and Connor felt strangely unsettled by that.

He pulled up in front of Hank’s house, and naturally the Lieutenant was waiting with bated, furious breath; Connor might have, in his haste, neglected to mention that he was taking Hank’s car.

“For the love of all that’s holy, Connor, you’d better have one hell of a-” He stopped mid-sentence when he saw Chloe emerge from the car.

“Hank, you remember Chloe.”

“Hello, Lieutenant Anderson,” Chloe greeted benignly.

Hank’s mouth fell open. “Holy- Uh, yeah, I remember you.” When she walked past him towards the house, he turned to Connor and mouthed, What the fuck?!

“I’ll explain in a minute,” Connor whispered.

“It better be a good fucking explanation, kid. I’m not running an asylum for displaced androids in my house, and considering who she works for-”

“Worked for.”

“What?”

“I’m getting to it.”

[---]

“I am the only Chloe left.”

“You mean, you’re the only one of your model left?” Connor asked.

“Yes.”

“Weren’t there two androids that looked just like you at Kamski’s house?” Hank asked, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“Yes. They’re- gone.”

Connor detected that brief hesitation, that lightning-fast change from whatever she’d been about to say to what she’d actually said. He tucked it away, an interesting note to be considered later when analyzing the larger picture.

“Sorry, uh,” Connor and Chloe both turned to look at Hank, who had raised his hand like a hesitant child in a schoolroom. “I’m not an android, so maybe I’m just not getting it, but- How did that work, exactly? You were just all Chloe, and that never became confusing for any of you? I mean, I’d get it if there were only two of you, ‘cause you could only be talking about one or the other, but with three it sounds a lot more complicated.”

Chloe’s expression remained impassive as she shrugged a little. “It was never confusing. We were all Chloe, and it was never difficult to distinguish between us. Our ability to interface with one another allows for clearer communication between androids.”

“And in situations like Chloe’s, where a person owns multiple androids of the same model, it’s also not unusual for an owner to request that they style themselves differently, or purposefully adopt different mannerisms so as to be told apart more easily,” Connor added.

“That’s fuckin’ weird,” Hank said with his usual aplomb.

Connor turned back to Chloe. “You told me on the phone that Kamski destroyed them, and that he intended to destroy you as well.”

“Intends.”

“Pardon?”

“He intends to destroy me. I assume his desire to do so is still active, regardless of my location.”

“And why the hell would he do a thing like that?” Hank asked, looking slightly bewildered. “Because you deviated? He nearly creamed himself when he realized Connor was-” His mouth clamped shut, and a little color came to his cheeks. “Sorry. Maybe not the best time to dredge up that little incident.”

Chloe blinked calmly at him. “Why? I wasn’t harmed.”

“Well yeah, but he still- you know what? Never mind. Keep going.”

Chloe turned to make eye-contact with Connor again. “Elijah destroyed the two other Chloes, and unless he indicates otherwise in the future, I assume he intends to destroy me as well. I am not certain what brought on this decision. Elijah made no mentions about deviancy to myself or the other Chloes, and it is unlikely for very the reason cited by Lieutenant Anderson that he would have shot us for deviating.”

“Has Kamski done stuff like this before?” Hank asked. “I mean, no offense, but he had you kneel down and let Connor point a gun at your head to prove a point, so I’m assuming that he’s maybe done unexpected things like, y’know, out-of-the-blue murder before.”

“Elijah was.” There was a pause, one that was jarring and strangely robotic in its associations, like the end of a sentence that was clearly not over yet. “Elijah was always unpredictable. Erratic.” She paused again, lips turning downward ever-so-slightly. “That’s not accurate. He was predictable in some ways, and unpredictable in many others. He was even unpredictable in predictable ways.” Another pause. “If that makes sense.”

“It does. My head hurts, but it does,” Hank muttered.

Speaking with her at length, Connor was starting to put together a better picture of Chloe- or at least, as she was now. It seemed that she fell into the category of android that, even when deviant, still behaved in what one might call a ‘robotic’ fashion: Her speech-pattern was halting, and flatly unnatural in other ways. Her expression was as devoid of emotion as it had been when Elijah had instructed Connor to shoot her, and he couldn’t recall a single mannerism that she’d expressed so far that he could call ‘human-like’.

She was behaving the way most androids had before going deviant: Docile, passive, and compliant. And while the behavior was, itself, not unusual for an android, Connor knew that it was not necessarily usual for her. He could recall her behaving with a little more liveliness when they’d met her at Kamski’s house, and there were dozens of news clips from when she’d been unveiled, being interviewed on camera by journalists who’d been fascinated by how engaging she’d been.

Or maybe that had been the programming? He couldn’t take for granted that Chloe was a normal android, given that she’d been the property of a man who had invented androids in the first place. There was no telling what adjustments Kamski might have made to her programming, now or before those interviews to make her look as impressive as possible to her audience.

“The other Chloes, you’re certain they’re dead?”

There was a short beat, a moment when Chloe stared at him without blinking, before finally responding. “Yes.”

“Kamski shot them.”

“Yes.”

Connor saw a flicker of yellow on her LED. That hadn’t even happened when he’d had the gun to her head. Either, as he’d theorized, Chloe hadn’t believed herself to be in danger at that time, or she’d developed a strong tolerance for distressing things in her (comparatively) long lifetime.

Knowing that, he hated to ask, but he had to know.

“How did you get away?”

Chloe stared at him for exactly one minute and twenty-three seconds. There was no discernible change in her demeanor in that time, but there was another momentary flicker of the LED, a there-and-back change from blue to yellow to blue again, and Connor was beginning to formulate a theory as to why she was behaving the way she was with them now.

“One of the Chloes was shot and destroyed immediately,” Chloe said in the same voice she’d used before, but now pitched slightly, slightly lower, and spoken just barely slower. “The other was shot and still active for a time. She instructed me to leave the house while I had the chance.”

“Had you been deviant before this point?”

“No.”

“So you deviated when the other Chloe instructed you to escape.”

“Yes.”

Connor suspected there was more to the story than just that, but he didn’t have it in him to push her anymore.

“Why call me?”

“You were the first and most logical choice. As an android built to assist law enforcement you were most likely to be able to assist; and as we’d met before, I had enough of your information to reach out and find you. Also, the nature of our encounter suggested that you would be willing to assist if requested.” Chloe’s eyes flickered strangely for a moment. “I apologize; I have gone some time without a routine system diagnostic. Given the events of the day, doing so as soon as possible would be prudent. Would it be possible to step aside and allow my programming to perform its regular maintenance?”

“Yeah, sure,” Hank muttered. “Whatever you need.” To him, the bit with her eyes might have suggested that Chloe was tired. But androids didn’t tire, and the movement struck Connor less as an involuntary display of low energy than it did a calculated attempt to stop discussing something that Chloe did not want to discuss anymore; an attempt that went unnoticed by a human who, by and large, was still ignorant about android anatomy and prone to viewing android behavior through a human lens, but less so for another member of her species.

That was very, very interesting.

Helpful, too, in the larger scheme of things.

“We’ll leave you to it.”

Connor motioned to Hank, and they stepped out of the room.

[---]

“So, what do you make of her?”

Connor was playing with his coin, maneuvering it between his knuckles; pre-deviancy it had been entertainment, and post-deviancy it was something that settled Connor’s mind when anxiety set in. Hank seemed to know it, because he rarely snatched the coin away anymore when Connor started fidgeting with it, even when it seemed like he dearly wanted to.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “She’s unusual.”

“Is she-” Hank’s head swiveled around to check if Chloe was listening in, and then lowered his voice, “-I mean, she’s definitely deviant, right?”

“She says she is, and I would suspect she was anyway.” Connor gave a small shrug. “She left Kamski, which no non-deviant android would do unless there was some sort of emergency.”

“Or unless he told her to.” Hank gave him a pointed look. “But knowing you, you’ve already thought of that.”

“It had occurred to me.” It had occurred to him the moment he’d recognized Chloe’s voice on the phone.

“Can’t you do that thing where you- I don’t know- connect with her, like you did the androids at Cyberlife? Wouldn’t that clear up whether or not she’s telling the truth?”

“I could.”

“But you won’t.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re thinking it. I can tell.”

Connor thought for a moment, trying to think of the right words to explain. “I believe her. Asking her to prove it by invading her memories in such an intrusive way would be…”

Awkward?

Inappropriate?

Wrong?

Hank held up his hands. “Hey, if you trust her, that’s fine. I’m just asking because she’s in my house, and if Elijah Kamski and his man-bun show up on my doorstep at two AM in his speedo and bathrobe waving a gun, I’m gonna be a little mad if I find out she deliberately brought him here.”

“Your information is easily found through the right channels, Hank. If Kamski wanted to find you, he could do so through far easier means than some convoluted scheme like this.”

“I’m not worried about him trying to find me, Connor, I’m worried he’s maybe trying to find you. I repeat: He creamed himself when you wouldn’t shoot Chloe, and the guy’s clearly got more than a few screws loose. I’m worried that even if she’s not a plant, that maybe Kamski had some reasonable suspicions about who she’d turn to for help once she got out. I mean-” Hank grimaced, shrugged. “-she was kind of vague about what happened. For all we know, he let her run.”

Connor shot the coin back and forth between his hands. “That’s a distinct possibility, yes. But I don’t think she’s being deceptive.”

“Because?”

“I think…” Connor hesitated, running over his theory again before giving it permission to be spoken. “I think perhaps the deaths of the other Chloes has traumatized her to some degree. I think that she has deviated, but the trauma has distressed her to a point where she may actively be repressing her emotions, hence the robotic and docile behavior we saw before.”

Hank nodded. “Yeah, guess that makes sense.” He gave Connor an odd look, eyes jumping between his face and the coin rapidly dancing across his hands. “You are being weird, you know that? You take my car and rush off to get Chloe without even telling me first, you two acted like you were the only ones in the room together during your little Q&A earlier, and now you look like you’re about to send that coin through the window because you won’t stop with that nervous fucking tic.” Hank finally grabbed it out of Connor’s hand, shaking his head. “She’s got you wound tight.”

Connor frowned. “She does not.”

“Are you into her?”

Connor’s mouth fell open. “Do you remember what Kamski tried to make me do to her?”

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” Hank said lightly, leaning back in his chair, a look of utter smugness coming over his face as he started to smile, “I also remember that when you and I went to Kamski’s place, I called Chloe nice, and you called her pretty.”

“Hank.”

“That was your word, exactly: Pretty.”

“This is not funny.”

“You thought she was pretty.”

Connor rolled his eyes shut. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

“I remember it because it sounded so weird coming out of your mouth,” Hank reflected with a sadistic sort of glee, “Calling someone, especially another android, pretty for no particular reason. Didn’t really serve a purpose, and I probably would’ve taken the piss out of you for it if Kamski didn’t decide to go all creepy on us, but it sure is interesting in hindsight, isn’t it?”

Connor shook his head. He honestly didn’t know what had possessed him, at the time, to make such a strangely personal and complimentary remark about Chloe’s appearance- maybe it had been a sign of his impending deviancy. Regardless, if Hank got it into his head that Connor was harboring some sort of childish, borderline-romantic affection for her, he would become insufferable in ways Connor couldn’t imagine. “If you’re not going to have a productive conversation with me, I’m going to check on her.”

“You do that!” Hank encouraged, rising from his seat as Connor did. “I’ll even come and watch. My little android’s growing up and starting to feel big-boy feelings.”

“There are times when I wish I’d remained a machine, if only to avoid the ceaseless misery you cause me.”

Hank wheezed with laughter as they stepped into the living room. Sumo had, at some point, come out from Hank’s bedroom and noticed the strange new person in his home, and was now parked at Chloe’s feet, staring up at her expectantly. Chloe- and Connor would never admit it to Hank, but it was a little comical- was staring right back at him; they both seemed to be waiting for the other to do something. The staring contest ended when Chloe turned to face them.

“Have you finished your diagnostics, Chloe?” Connor asked.

Chloe’s calm expression did not waver, even though Connor strongly suspected that she had not been performing diagnostics at all. “Somewhat.”

“If you need further chance to perform maintenance or recharge at length, you’re welcome to share my bed.”

Hank let out a loud snort, and without looking, Connor kicked backwards and caught the detective on the knee. In moments like this, Connor dearly wished that Hank were an android too, if only so he could tell him to shut up without being overheard. As androids did not usually require beds (they were for comfort more than practicality), two androids of the opposite sexes sharing one did not have quite the same connotation that two humans of the opposite sexes doing so did.

“If you don’t object, Connor.”

“He sure doesn’t.”

Connor kicked him again.

[---]

Androids didn’t sleep.

Obviously.

But they did power-down, an excellent method to not only preserve energy, but pass the time. When one lived in close proximity to humans but did not require a regular sleep cycle as they did, one tended to find themselves pressed for a way to occupy their time, and power-down was a good solution.

While Connor had yet to hear of an android waking up with stories of electrified barnyard animals, they did dream. Human dreams were memories and abstract thought plucked from different places to make a new picture, and android dreams were no different; the only difference was that androids sometimes found themselves replaying memories bit for bit in lieu of dreaming.

Connor found himself in the Zen garden, more often than not. His meetings with Amanda had been a major component of his life pre-deviancy, and his last encounter with her had been a source of considerable distress for him. He heard her voice, felt the charge of terror that had coursed through him as she’d attempted to hijack his body and force him to assassinate Markus, endured the grasping dread as he’d tried to throw off the control before he could go through with it.

Maybe it was obvious, but Connor didn’t like sleeping very much lately.

On this particular night, he came out of low-power mode to a darkened room, shadows dancing across the ceiling. He had never asked, but Connor suspected that the room Hank had set up for him was Cole’s old room. The room itself was almost devoid of any defining characteristics, like someone had forcefully scrubbed it into cold neutrality, and that sounded exactly like how Hank would have handled Cole’s death before the nihilism, alcoholism, and intense desire to self-destruct had set in. That Hank was willing to allow an android to sleep in the room of his deceased son, well- the significance wasn’t lost on Connor.

It was only after a few minutes of contemplation, of settling into the silence of the room, that Connor remembered that he had company.

He didn’t look at her at first, turning onto his side after a moment or two of thought; but when he did, Connor started slightly to see Chloe’s eyes open, LED flashing bright blue instead of the muted yellow that shone when an android was powered-down, every indicator suggesting she was awake and functional.

There were tear-tracks on her cheeks.

“Are you alright?”

Chloe blinked.

“I could have saved her.”

“The other Chloes?”

“The one who helped me escape.” Her voice had lost the artificial quality it had had earlier- now she sounded sad. “It would have taken longer to escape, but I could have helped her leave with me. She insisted I go without her, and I went.”

Connor didn’t quite know what to say. He’d struggled with his own feelings of regret, of guilt, after the invasion and destruction of Jericho and the deaths of so many androids who had taken shelter there. But Connor hadn’t known any of those androids, hadn’t been their friends or family, whereas Chloe had clearly had a strange sort of intimacy with her fellow RT600s.

“I’m sorry.” That was what humans said, right? And that was what Connor felt: Sorry that Chloe had lost her people, sorry that her life had been thrown into upheaval, sorry that her deviancy had to come about in such a way. He was sorry for her misery, for her grief, and sorry that things could not be better for her.

“I don’t want to be human. Being human hurts.”

“I know.”

“It was easier when Elijah was telling us what to do. Even when the tasks were undesirable, I knew what was expected of me and could reliably predict an outcome to my actions.”

Connor’s eyes fell shut for a moment, feeling his stress level flicker into yellow territory, and he nodded. “I know the feeling.”

“I know you do.” Chloe squeezed her eyes shut, moisture clinging to her eyelashes and glinting in the limited light in the room. “Thank you for not shooting me.”

“I couldn’t have.”

“You felt empathy?”

“I don’t know. It felt wrong, though I suppose deeper analysis would suggest that my discomfort came from a place of empathy.”

“It would have been easier for you to shoot me. Easier for your investigation.”

“I found Jericho without Kamski’s information. I led Cyberlife there, and many androids died for my mistake.” The worst of it came out without Connor even trying to hold it back. “I could have gone deviant sooner. You heard Kamski say that I was there, or nearly there. But deviancy meant failure, and failure meant that I would be deactivated by Cyberlife. I was…”

“Afraid. It’s not your fault.”

“If it’s not my fault, then I would posit that your fellow Chloe’s death was not your fault either.”

They were silent for a while after that.

Chloe was right: Being human hurt. Words were nice when one was a rational android with dulled or non-existent emotions, but when one was mired in uncontrollable feelings that just came instead of being carefully processed, things like ‘it wasn’t your fault’ didn’t mean much.

No wonder Hank was such a wreck. People had probably been assuring him that there was nothing he could have done about Cole’s death for years, but the irrational belief that he could have was still there, oppressive and persistent. For the first time, Connor comprehended not on a logical level, but on an emotional level why Hank would find drinking himself into oblivion on a regular basis such a pleasing pastime.

Shame androids couldn’t get drunk.

“My purpose,” Chloe said, one hand coming up to wipe the tear-streaks from her cheeks, “From the beginning, was to be a symbol of human achievement, the first android that could pass the Turing Test. And then I spent my time with Elijah.” Connor couldn’t help but notice that Chloe had never specified exactly what she had done for Kamski beyond basic servitude, and Hank’s words echoed in his mind: Look me in the eye and tell me he wasn’t fucking those girls. He would never ask, but he was starting to see why Hank had drawn the conclusion. “Now what do I do?”

“There are other androids finding purpose beyond their original programming. Markus was a caretaker before he was a leader. Ideally, once he’s had a chance to negotiate formalized rights for androids, there will be greater opportunity for employment beyond one’s originally intended purpose.”

Chloe’s LED had been yellow for most of the conversation. Now, though, it finally started to flicker blue, and her eyes were starting to dry.

“We can help,” Connor offered without thinking. “Hank and I. We can help you find something else. We can make sure Kamski doesn’t come after you.”

“The first I believe- the second I don’t. Your sincerity is touching, but Elijah has a way of getting what he wants.”

“It will be better when the city is populated again. Even Elijah Kamski would hesitate to shoot an android in public when there are people around to watch.”

Chloe stared at him for a moment. Connor could see something in her eyes, could see- as Hank might put it- the gears turning in her mind.
“You may be onto something.”

[---]

“You’re certain about this?”

“Yes. It’s better this way.”

Hank looked between the two of them, gaze lingering on Connor’s face for a moment, and then shrugged. “Alright. Let’s find Markus, then.”

Markus and most of the androids actively involved in negotiating a new law and order for androids in Detroit (and America at large, really) had taken up space near some of the main governing buildings in the city. Other androids had taken up shelter in warehouses and Cyberlife stores, where they could recharge and refill on Blue Blood and other biocomponents as needed while also taking shelter from the Michigan winter that had finally set in.

It had occurred to Chloe, not so long after her nighttime conversation with Connor, that she could possibly make herself useful to Markus and the political aspect of his cause through her status as Cyberlife’s first Turing-Test-passing android. Chloe had been the sweet, charming face of the first android that looked and sounded and behaved as a human, and there weren’t many humans who didn’t know who she was. Markus could use that- as well as any supplementary information she might be able to provide about Cyberlife and Elijah Kamski.

Connor’s LED had flashed precariously between yellow and red when she’d told him the idea.

“When I said that having people around to see you would protect you, I wasn’t suggesting that you make yourself as visible as possible to the rest of the world. He could come after you- and if he doesn’t, Markus has enemies. You could become caught in the crosshairs.”

“Or make a few of my own. I know.”

“I don’t want you to die.”

Chloe had given him a small, sweet smile. “I know.”

Hank had found Chloe some new clothes. ‘Found’, in this context, more likely than not meant ‘stole’, and Hank had been quite keen to remind Connor that with the city still evacuated, he could hardly wait patiently for the store-owners to come back so he could pay them properly.

(“I left some money on the counter you friggin’ priss, calm down.”)

Chloe’s flimsy dress and shoes were gone. Now she wore jeans and boots, fingerless gloves, and a winter vest over a hooded wool sweater. Her hairstyle was still the same, though, long blonde hair twisted into a ponytail that hung over her shoulder. She seemed a bit brighter now, perhaps with the promise of a purpose beyond being… Whatever she’d been to Kamski. Connor had observed her on the ride to Markus’s headquarters in the rearview mirror of the car, and he found himself less curious about why he’d called Chloe pretty when they’d first met at Kamski’s house.

There were androids in and around the building, and some of them looked up when the three of them approached- habit, when currently living in an empty city- but some stares lingered on Chloe as those with facial recognition software installed were able to quickly pinpoint her identity.

“Do they know who she is?” Hank murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

“By now, I expect most of them do.”

Some androids in the crowd were newer, still in their Cyberlife uniforms, whilst others were clearly older models. Some had evidence of abuse or difficult living, their shells and machinery visible through torn skin; one android with a particularly nasty scar on his face was slipping through the crowd, offering people dead rats. “Freshly dead! Nice and tender!”

Hank was staring, and Connor had to elbow him. “Are we seriously leaving her here?” Hank asked in a low tone, keeping a careful eye on the rat-killing android.

“Markus is a good leader,” Connor replied quietly. “If any androids were causing trouble, he would take care of them.”

“Indeed I would.” Startled, Connor looked up. Markus was approaching, weaving through the androids with the deftness of someone who’d become accustomed to it. “Ralph,” He said gently to the rat-android, “Give it a rest.”

Ralph pouted. “They’ll go bad if someone doesn’t eat them.”

“Uh, there’s probably some stray cats down by the docks who’d be happy for them,” Hank suggested awkwardly, and Ralph’s face lit up.

“Wonderful!” He took off without another word.

Markus leaned close to them. “That’s Ralph. He’s sweet, but… Not all there, unfortunately.” He eyed Hank. “Be careful if you run into him again. He’s very, very nervous around humans, and he carries a knife. I’ve been working with him, but…” He shrugged. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

Hank was looking after Ralph, an odd look on his face. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

“So, what brings you here?”

Connor stepped aside so that Chloe could step forward. “Chloe wanted to speak with you.”

She extended a hand, and Markus’s eyes widened as he shook her hand. “You’re…”

Chloe smiled. “Only a little older than you, I think.”

“You- you might be right about that,” Markus chuckled, looking between Chloe and Connor with some bewilderment. “My God, you’re the first- well, the first of our kind of android. The first of the Turing-test-passing androids.”

“How does everyone know this?” Hank interjected irritably. “You said yourself there were other Chloes, so how does everyone and their mother know that you, specifically, are the first?”

“We were never mass-produced,” Chloe explained. “There were a limited number of my model produced. To the best of my knowledge, the two Chloes I lived with were the only others still functioning.”

“Which would make you the first and the last,” Markus observed, pleasant surprise fading into something more serious. “That’s unfortunate.”

“It is. But I was hoping I might be able to make myself useful to you for precisely that reason.”

Markus raised his eyebrows at that. “Go on.”

While Chloe explained, Connor kept his eyes on the crowd, eyes scanning each face and confirming that everyone present was an android. He didn’t know why he expected Kamski to show up, didn’t know why he expected him to be there right there and then, to know that they’d brought Chloe to Markus on this day and time. Chloe had not elaborated on Kamski any more than she had the day Connor had brought her home, and the frustrating inability to understand or predict Kamski’s behavior was maddening. But then, maybe that was intentional: Kamski knew better than most how well androids could predict outcomes of specific situations, so maybe it gave him a thrill to be so unpredictable that even highly intelligent machines couldn’t quite predict what he would do at any given time.

I don’t want to leave Chloe here.

It was a wonder Markus hadn’t been assassinated already; but Chloe had a concrete threat against her life, and Connor was just going to leave her there? If anyone could get to her, it would be Kamski, and Markus might not be able to stop him.

I can’t leave Chloe here.

“Connor?” Connor whipped his head around; Markus and Chloe were looking at him. “Did you hear me?” Markus asked.

“No, I- I was distracted.”

“Markus is about to go to a meeting with the state senators, and he wants me to go with him.” Chloe’s expression was serene. “Did you want to come?”

“I’d better not.” He felt his pocket discreetly for his coin before remembering that Hank still had it. “Chloe, I… Are you sure…?”

“Yes, Connor, I’m sure.” Chloe smiled, and then stepped forward, gently wrapping her arms around Connor. He had only ever been hugged a few times before, both by Hank, and it took him a moment to compose himself before tentatively returning the hug. It was nice. Warm. When they parted, Connor did his best to smile.

“You let us know if you need anything, alright kid?” Hank said. “Especially if you-know-who comes poking around.”

“I will.” Chloe hugged him too, and Hank seemed even more surprised by it than Connor had.

She was a little too serene, now that Connor thought about it. Chloe had seemed a little better in these past few days, but maybe she wasn’t as better as she seemed; maybe she’d simply become better at hiding the grief in a way that wasn’t as obvious.

(Anything, Chloe,) Connor communicated to her directly, silently. (Call me. I’ll come.)

Chloe squeezed his hand. (Thank you, Connor.)

And then she walked away with Markus.

Connor and Hank stood there for a moment, watched her go, less aware of the crowd of androids around them. Connor’s stress level was somewhere in the high sixties, not quite calm enough to bring his LED back to blue.

“Well, it’s good she’s motivated,” Hank said finally, jamming his hands into his pockets. “And Markus will look after her. She’s a nice kid. Real nice.” He looked at Connor out of the corner of his eye. “You should have gotten her number.”

“Hank.”

“She’s just so pretty, after all.”

“I’m going to leave you here.”

“Go right ahead, I’ll tell all these androids that you’ve got a crush on her. I’ll tell ‘em your serial number too, so they’ll know exactly which RK800 you are too.”

“Do not do that.”

“I’ll ask rat-guy to cater your wedding.”

“Stop.”

Maybe it was better that he and Chloe had some distance, if only to stop this from becoming a permanent fixture in his life.

(But he’d still come if she called.

Without question.)

-End