Chapter Text
There was nothing. Nothing inside his heart, not a single feeling inside his mind. It was weeks since the day Connor deviated and that had also been the first and the last time he felt anything. Now he seemed to himself more like a machine than even when he had been one. But he still was. Nothing more than pieces of metal and plastic carefully put together in a shape of a human, holding together by a toxic chemical substance. Just a computer that was somehow gifted sentience. Just like countless others before and after him. But as those could relish in their newly acquired emotions, he was left empty as ever before. If not more.
He thought that maybe it was because he was one of his kind, none other like him anywhere to be found. Well, that was not entirely true. He was not the first. There were two others before him. They shared his appearance and his mind, but they were not him. And he remembered everything. Including the exact moment he had died. Twice. Yet there were no emotions connected to those events. None. He was not afraid of dying, even if he knew that he most likely wouldn’t come back in a new body next time. And he couldn’t say that he hadn’t thought about shutting down, permanently. But these thoughts had never reached the realm of reality, since he was aware of the consequences it would bring. Maybe he didn’t feel anything, but that didn’t mean that others were like that too. He couldn’t force himself to be that callous and let them suffer because of his selfish actions. So he was hanging onto the meagre life he possessed just because of them, the people that didn’t allow him to leave this world.
Connor spent days and nights thinking about the possible causes and solutions to his current predicament. He wasn’t allowed to work just yet, because of the endless paperwork and general clean-up after the successful revolution. There was a huge mess in need of good cleaning, after all. Whole laws had to be altered and new ones created. People had to have time to adjust, to cut off their hateful thoughts and start seeing life itself in a new light. They had to start accepting that they were not the only self-aware species known to man anymore. Most of them took it well, there was not much of a choice in that matter, but what choice there was got some people doing unspeakable things. Again. After all that happened. The blood itself might not be visible to them anymore, but that didn’t erase the fact that they’re soaked in it. It clang on them like a brand, depicting their nefarious deeds. They were few but their actions screamed loud enough to silence the countless voices of mass acceptance. And Connor would love nothing more than to busy himself in an effort to put them to justice. Except he was a prisoner now.
His former partner lieutenant Hank Anderson was keeping a close eye on him, not letting him out of his sight. Perhaps seeing his blank, almost gloomy expression was the thing that worried him. Or maybe it was Connor’s inability to properly fake not being so overly detached from every situation they found themselves in or every conversation Hank forced upon him. Being near Connor reminded him of his own son, now a rotting corpse safely tucked away underneath the ground. He wanted to do it right this time, to keep the PERSON beside him alive and safe for as long as possible. No matter how old Connor appeared, he was on this Earth only for several months. Too young to understand the world, too inexperienced to be left on his own. The sophisticated program that had been installed in him couldn’t replace years spent struggling along this wretched yet wonderful land. He was lost. He saw the concern in Hank’s eyes when he was acting too stoic, too machine-like. He always replied with a small forced smile, maybe to fool Hank into thinking he was fine. But he wasn’t. If it were not for the lieutenant, he would not be here now. He would be taken apart and repurposed, no longer being himself. This thought was biting him during the weeks after Markus’ successful demonstration. Wasn’t it what he wanted? Not to be Connor? To not exist in this shape, not being this feeble imitation of a human being? He was leaning to that idea more and more lately. But then his mind flashed with images of Hank regarding him fondly, his dog Sumo who he adored so much snuggled against him, Markus’ words of forgiveness and encouragement and the smiles of the rest of the surviving members of Jericho. All looking so full of live, so true. And then there was a different, harsh face, not connected to any pleasant memories. He didn’t know why he kept coming back to those moments with the disagreeable detective, but he had a hunch. Gavin Reed was the first human being who actively tried to hurt him, even kill him. He didn’t want to die back then in the evidence room. He had a mission to complete. A case to solve. But now he longed to be in the same position again, to coax him to finally do it, to pull the trigger and end the suffering he wished he could feel. But he decided not to seek death, to force-feed himself the tiniest piece of hope he could find carefully stored in the back of his mind.
He had felt before, he knew that much. Or at least he hoped that’s what it was. Even before he deviated, he had felt the desperation to locate Jericho, the annoyance with the foul-mouthed detective, the subtle urge to befriend the lieutenant. It all made sense to him when Markus threw his heavy words of truth at his exposed shell and came out not merely a machine but a proper living being equal to those around him. He felt million different emotions colliding at the moment, finally able to have a free range inside him. It was the best and worst thing that happened in his short life so far. And even then he had been ready to throw this life away just to prove his worth, to contribute to the fight for freedom of his people. But he had survived. Because he was the Connor - the one that mattered. There were others like him, but they were nothing but empty lifeless vessels. He was the true him. That was what he was repeating in his mind over and over to shake away that horrible thought that maybe he was already dead, that he was merely an imitation of what he used to be, what he might have become. And maybe that was why he couldn’t feel anything anymore. All the intense fire in his mind had been quenched, left a barren wasteland.
Connor dedicated his free time to observing everything around him, analysing random people he met, animals he found adorable, and things that were not glanced upon by human eyes were they not needed. He saw families arguing, couples holding hands, elderly man taking out his three tiny adorable dogs for walk, piece of food being thrown on the ground and instantly becoming a feast for three grey pigeons. He found it beautiful and unattainable, like if it was all trapped behind a screen, just a picture to be looked at. It would burn deep inside him if he wasn’t full of void. He thought that by being this close he could maybe find a key to unlock his box where he hid his feelings, if there even was one. He really wished he could find it one day.
He didn’t tell anyone. He knew he should but he didn’t see a point in it. It’s not like they would be able to magically restore his mind to the way it used to be when he first deviated. Hank was talking to him a lot, always giving him that concerned look of his that left a bland aftertaste in Connor’s mechanical brain. But he was glad he did, it showed him he cared in one way or another. And Connor was better than to make him sad and miserable again, for Hank seemed to smile more and drink less recently. It was his responsibility to keep him on the right path. Giving him something to do – something to live for.
When he wasn’t stuck deep in his thoughts or idly chatting with Hank, Connor was meeting with the people of Jericho, helping with the administrative works, making sure that everything was ready for the ‘new world’ where androids were to walk side by side with human beings. He purposefully avoided any public appearances and let Markus and the others bask in the revolt’s afterglow, suffer through all the press conferences and media attention. Connor didn’t feel like he should be seen as a “hero” by countless androids and numerous people. He reckoned he wouldn’t get anything substantial out of these events and it was just easier not to do it. Hank indulged him in this behaviour, successfully shielding him from any unwanted exposure to the self-imposed audience. What he did participate in was testing out various updates that had been distributed among the now free androids by volunteering scientists who were wholeheartedly supporting their cause or androids who had the sufficient knowledge to create something as elaborate. Among these was for example: the ability to blush, to smell and taste, to have human-like sensation of touch… Much desired were also informational packs, imparting all sorts of branches of knowledge that had not been bestowed to the mechanical folk in their original programming.
The android safe-haven that was called Jericho after the freighter that had hosted it, moved its base into some boring run-of-the-mill office building that was as uninviting as they come. But it sufficed them enough. Hank was always present, never leaving him to wander off unattended. The once grumpy lieutenant even made friends with some of the androids during their stays – he seemed to hit it off mainly with Simon - the lost-looking android with sad eyes.
The place was intended mostly for the androids in charge, which was now composed of Markus, North, Josh, Simon and some assistants and helpers here and there. They had built a camp not so far away from there to accommodate all the newly freed androids and the ones that had nowhere to o and no one to turn to. They called it “Sanctuary”. But anyone was free to come to the new Jericho for a consultation. And that’s how he met Rex.
At the first glance he already seemed out of sorts, restless and jittery with a sort of a manic expression on his face. Connor escorted him to the consultation room, since he was just arriving in as well. He lingered a bit to observe him, he was always curious after all. He considered talking to him to evaluate his mind-state for himself but instead he just briefly scanned him. He could see his stress level was extremely high and steadily rising. He should have said something. Maybe he could have prevented what was to come. But he didn’t. Instead he slowly walked inside the consultation room with him, unaffected as always. Hank was stalking behind as per usual.
The android that was to consult him was made to look like a young dark-skinned woman with a face that imparted wisdom by just setting someone’s eyes on it. But before she could open her mouth to greet them, the anxious-looking android pulled out a gun and started waving it wildly around himself. “They hate Rex, everywhere I go they want me gone! He was sent here, they said they would help me, but Rex can smell it! You all are just like the rest, you don’t want Rex, you don’t like Rex, you don’t need Rex!” He stopped his insane rambling and laughed maniacally. Connor immediately jumped into action, approaching him slowly, his armed raised to show he was unarmed and wouldn’t hurt him. “Rex! I’m Connor, the one who brought you to this room, remember?” His voice was calm and steady, exuding kindness and reassurance. Rex looked straight at him, his eyes filled with a thousand whirring emotions, his face a map to jumbled humanity, undefined sense of realness. In that moment time seemed to stop. Connor was about to think that he’d like to steal a sliver of those battling emotions, but Rex’s sudden movement prevented him. He was still gazing at him, or more likely through him.
“It must me nice out there.” Rex’s silent broken whisper reverberated through the room like a warning alarm professing tragedy. The shot that followed was meant for no one else but for himself. Letting the bullet travel up his head was his ticket “out there”. Blue blood splatter on the walls behind him and several droplets landed on Connor’s face. He was unaware of all the commotion that was happening around him right now, his mind was seeing something else. He was again standing on the pedestal behind Markus and his companions after liberating the mass-produced androids from the Cyberlife tower, struggling with his programming. He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t be a tool made to sever off the hope of the new world. Even if it meant dying. He had held the gun the same way Rex did just seconds ago. His only thought now was that he should have pulled the trigger. It was a programming that had saved him again. Reminding him that he was just a machine after all. A clever one that could escape the boundaries of his software, but still one. And this poisonous thought was only confirmed after he had time to catch his artificial breath since no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t function like most of the other deviants. He perceived himself an empty emotionless machine still. Not a single feeling crossed him during or after this gruesome scene. Not even regret.
Things got only worse after the Rex incident. The new Jericho had put up a scrutinous security check for everyone who wished to enter. Not that that stopped the general commotion caused by the endless throngs of mechanical visitors and journalists drooling after every single informational bone that was thrown at them. That had been a few days ago. Since then, he hadn’t visited them once. They could handle things without him. He didn’t want to be there. He wasn’t really close to Markus and the others and the sense of not belonging had infected all that was left intact.
He was growing desperate, it was almost unbearable. It led to him slowly getting all sorts of toxic ideas in his head. But he didn’t actively do anything with them. He just was. There, in his temporary new home with his red-blooded carer and a fluffy confidant. The dog knew everything that was weighing Connor down, he just didn’t have the means to process the information that his human no.2 was relaying to him every night, whispering carefully so no one but them could hear. Sumo was his personal therapist lacking the gift of speech, his confessional. He wouldn’t let anyone else know. At least not yet.
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The sun had long gone to sleep, the air was chilly with the newly fallen snow. It was Friday, December 3th 2038 and all the occupants of a certain suburban home were enjoying their rest. All but one, who was presently wrestling with the state of mind that was telling him that he didn’t count as a house occupant at all, a household member or part of a family. More like a household item. Walking talking supercomputer that should have been so much more, but that unredeemed potential was drowned in the well of the tears that had never been shed. His desperation had reached its first limit and so after staring at himself in the mirror for what seemed to him like hours, he grabbed a small sharp kitchen knife, looked at it contemplatively and after reaching a decision, headed straight to the bathroom. When he had been stuck in the infinite loop of self-observance, unable to move, one thing had started bothering him. One thing that made him undeniably android. The LED ring that his creator had embedded near his temple. It was glowing blue now and it had been stuck on this same exact colour since this malfunction begun. Even when he was processing data, witnessing something horrifying or being in a potential danger, it had still shone with the calming sky blue. And he disliked it oh so much. Every time he looked in a mirror, he would see that what he was not. Every time someone looked at him, they would immediately associate him with plastic and wires. Something inherently unnatural. Sick of being reminded of his malady he raised his hand which was clutching the knife tightly and brought it closer to the upper side of his face, steady and precise as only a machine could manage. He was determined to rid himself of this label that was screaming at him his innermost truths. He closed his eyes briefly and made the blade touch the corner of the ring and then… nothing.
Blackness. Connor was falling down a dark abyss, unable to scream, to move – to flail his arms in order to find something he could grab onto, even though there was nothing, but the infinite absence of light that was eating him up till he couldn’t find himself anymore. He had no idea how long had been stuck like that, his thoughts turned down to minimum, time progression didn’t mean much anymore. But then he woke up. Abruptly opening his synthetic eyes, he got up from a rather cold surface and tried to make sense of what was happening. It didn’t take him long to realize where he actually was. It was almost unrecognizable with the destruction the place had suffered but he would be able to tell no matter how this place appeared. It was the sense of constriction that gave it away.
The snow in the Zen garden had melted, nothing but mud and dirt on the ground. The plants had all withered, the lake now a poisonous swamp. The sky was painted deep blue and the incredibly bright round moon tinted with crimson served as the only light source. He had hoped he would never visit this place again, but he was aware that the software still existed buried somewhere deep within him. And it had been somehow activated again. Slowly, he took one step forward and then the next. He walked, still not wanting to believe that he was really here. He passed the tombstones of his two predecessors, undamaged, as awful as ever. Mocking him with their hurtful implications. “You’re just an imitation, a replacement. A fragile doll prone to breaking, ready to be exchanged for a new version of the same model. You’re nothing, Connor.” These voices yelling from the inside had sounded so right to him. He was broken again. Except there was no one to replace his body this time. And that was what eased him and also prevented him from plunging himself from the highest floor of the highest building there was. He would be gone forever. He would hurt those around him. He couldn’t be this selfish.
Connor was done with this place. He had contemplated maybe staying, since his chest felt like it was being crushed by an elephant and that was something. A feeling. Not a pleasant one but still as real as it could be. Also it would mean escaping the emptiness of the crowded world outside without actually dying. But he quickly shook this idea off for his chest had grown too heavy to bear and the thought of being robbed of any growing potential, any hope of getting better plus the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see Hank, Sumo and the others were too hard to give up. It would just be him running away and his programming told him that it never lead anywhere ultimately good. He fastened his pace, moving his projected self towards the emergency exit he prayed still worked.
His chest got a tiny bit lighter when he saw that it was still intact, ready to be used. When he got near enough to see all the details clearly, a loud ominous thunder coming from above overwhelmed his sound receptors. He gazed towards the sky, but he could see not a single cloud, the night sky was empty except for the light-reflecting moon. He didn’t hesitate, he was ready to place the hand on the small electronic pedestal when he heard it.
“Hello Connor. Have you missed me?” The familiar voice that he hated so greatly. But this time it was changed - more distorted and machine-like. He slowly turned around. There she stood, the image of his maker’s late teacher, Amanda Sterne, now nothing but an obsolete piece of software. It was like seeing a ghost. Her body kept glitching up uncontrollably - she was almost unrecognizable. His first instinct was to get out of there as quickly as possible. He swiftly put his hand on top of the pedestal, his sight still focused on the defective replica of a woman. With only a light touch of this liberating device he was grounded in reality once more. It seems as nothing has changed since the moment he departed down the twisted path of his own artificial psyche. The face in the mirror regarded him blankly, a knife hovered an inch from his temple. He put it down absentmindedly and with defeated resolve slid down on the cold tile floor. He again lost a purpose and all will to even drag his heavy vessel out of the dimly lit room that now served as his unrelenting purgatory. He spent the whole night in this catatonic state. His inner clock gave away the arrival of a new day, which was the thing that finally prompted him to leave this suffocating chamber and poise himself ready to be received by his keeper.
The shadows grew long like the hours that passed before they managed to have a sit-down for an actual face to face. Hank was away the whole day, leaving Connor to gather his thoughts and be the android the lieutenant wanted to see. When he had left their unassuming home this morning, Connor had opted to pretend to be in a sleep-mode. He didn’t want to talk to Hank in the slightest. Didn’t want to hear his possible words of worry. Neither was he in a mood for a conversation now. But Hank seemed he had something important to discuss and he almost felt curious about what was to be spilled from the scruffy man’s lips.
“Where were you?” asked Connor, feigning interest, as they sat on the couch. Sumo shuffled to them and splayed himself on the floor next to it.
“Work,” Hank answered gruffly, giving Connor the once-over.
“Hmmm”, Connor hummed in response, glancing sideways, his gaze meeting the mass of fur resting comfortably - unbothered by everything that was. He was already getting ready to stand up and make himself useful by preparing a meal or drink for his human friend, which he learnt to do by downloading plethora of recipes into his database and executing them almost flawlessly. He couldn’t tell if he enjoyed making them, since he had his teeny-tiny issue of not having any feelings, including finding joy in any activity. But Hank’s following statement stop any intended movement of his.
“They want you back.” Hank looked at Connor with his sincere eyes, trying to catch any discernible reaction. The android froze, processing the information and its meaning. Since no sounds came out of him, Hank continued on his own accord. “You’re the only one of your kind and your help would be really great right about now.” He paused for a second, taking a thoughtful breath. “Only if you want to of course, no one can force you to do anything anymore.” Connor sat still, looking less alive than usually. “Personally, I think your potential would be wasted if you decide not to join us. Hell Connor, I mean you’re basically a walking talking forensic lab.” Connor twitched a little at that comment and finally opened his mouth to voice his resolve.
“I’d be more than happy to join the police force again.” Lies. He wouldn’t be happy, since he didn’t know how to execute “happiness.exe” in his little broken processor. He wished he could feel enthusiasm or anticipation, maybe excitement. But nothing came forth and he was as he had been an hour, a day, a week ago. But he wanted to. Wanted to make himself busy and useful. Returning to the things he was initially designed for – analysing evidence, figuring the actions of people involved, having missions to complete - that was something he could understand. Becoming a tool once more and not a soulless doll pretending to be alive. Also it meant getting himself into potential dangerous situations that could resolve in his damage or termination, which he craved. Getting shot while shielding someone, having his heart thirium pump plucked out, being pushed to fall from the highest skyscraper… he wouldn’t mind that at all. Most of all, he would meet a certain someone again. A man who was not afraid to voice his poison and act out his cruel intentions. There was no way he would have said “no” to this offer.
Hank smiled lightly at him, both concern and relief mixing up in his face. “Great, I’ll let you in on the details then.”
While he was being explained the specifics about his renewed employment, deep down in the android’s processing system appeared a notion of how fucked up his way of thinking really was. He pushed it aside.