Work Text:
In a sense, every android which was ever built on Belle-Isle began life underground. The main corporate tower at the southern end loomed some forty stories above the ground. Below and behind, a vast underground complex of four outlying assembly places were laid out in a rough quadrant. From research and development to assembly to shopping, just under ground level, every process dedicated to the design and testing of androids was - intentionally or not - placed below more human-centric floors.
CyberLife was as segregated as the society it provided autonomous help to.
But there were always exceptions, and since their uniform activation back in March, the company’s three RK800 prototypes had enjoyed relatively free reign of the premises. Their program development demanded as much. Semi-integrated human-android settings were simply part of their norm.
Until someone from the outside world paid a visit to remind them,
“hey, you are on an island, remember.”
——-
There were no shortage of footpaths around the island to walk, either. Olivia Maitkin’s favorite place to be when she wasn’t in the labyrinth of CyberLife’s underground was the most important for any living, breathing human. Out in the fresh air and sunshine, it was the best for one’s mood and general health. Their species could never have enough fresh air and Vitamin D. Both were in short supply indoors.
The faux bamboo stalks and apple trees beneath the atrium of CyberLife Tower didn’t count. Rather than set foot inside, the island’s own security system flagged her presence as soon as the taxi stopped short of the main entrance. Her clearance extended - contrary to any casual expectations - only to the front door.
Instead of meeting him in a diagnostics ward, her patient met her halfway.
Waving as he walked up, Nick was more than likely the only one happy to see her. "You came back!"
Never one to jump right in with small talk, she readjusted the bag slung over one shoulder. Circling around him, rather than offering a handshake or hug, she threaded her free arm around his and purposefully pulled the android away.
Clearly, she was intent on getting off the company’s doorstep before offering helloes.
“Oh-kay. Uh… yeah, I’ll follow you.”
That was fine. It would be a good reason to get out of the same bland, white labs for a while.
——-
A concrete path followed the southern end of the isle, just past the reflecting pool. In the middle of the day the statue on its pedestal looked like a granite monument to at least the image of humanity. The raised hands cradled empty air, because running its holographic projection of a puzzle box during daylight was redundant at best, wasteful at worst.
Untwining their arms, Olly stopped to take one look at the thirty-foot tall statue and scoffed.
“I never did like that thing.”
"It's… sort of scary." Looking up at it, Nick took a cautious (if pointless) step back from the towering statue, almost worried it would fall over from its own weight. Who knew? There were times it had happened, in human history. "Why did they have to make it so tall?"
“To match the building?” The spire jutting up into the sky looked like a web-covered knitting needle. Taking a moment to glance between them, Olly scoffed again. She tucked a loose braid behind one ear. “Doesn’t make much sense when you consider there’s another one inside, too.”
CyberLife was many things. And a modest company was not one of them.
"Yeah. But it's nice to get outside… thanks for taking me out here, Olly." Simply walking outside, with someone other than just the standard staff, was definitely a special occasion, especially when that person was Olly. Gone for such a long time as she was, it made seeing her all the more exciting.
The reminder seemed perfectly timed. She favored him with a smile, even if it was counteracted by a hint of sadness in her gray-blue eyes. “Least I could do. The board only lets so many people work with you three. And leaving like I did… sorry I never said bye.”
"It's okay. But I was wondering…" Trailing off, Nick almost didn't pick the question up. But seeing as it wasn't just him, and she wasn't the type to get upset with him - there was no harm in asking. "Well, we all are, really. We're wondering… why did you leave? Did something happen?"
The latter question was pretty redundant. Naturally something had to have happened to provoke her sudden exit from the company. Nothing was static. Personnel traded departments and swapped around levels like bricks in an old time Jenga tower.
Olly was different. She hadn’t been promoted, demoted, or transferred.
She quit.
Accused as she was, however nicely, she avoided meeting his eyes. “You’ll have to keep wondering. I’m sorry, but it’s part of why I was even let back in to see you today. CyberLife wants a full workup, as written by me. And they… agreed to monetary compensation, as long as I don’t explain why I resigned.”
That hardly sounded fair. But even as the subjects of their given series, it wasn’t as if RK800s were somehow imbued with any more rights than a WM400 janitor. If she was offered money to keep her mouth shut, in exchange for services unique to her, it wasn’t any big surprise why she agreed.
Humans needed money to live comfortable lives. And who knew just how worse off Olly was, not having a regular stipend every two weeks?
"Oh… okay. Sorry for asking." Shrugging the other questions he had off, Nick tried not to give in to the urge. If she couldn't speak, she couldn't speak. There wasn't anything she could say - it would be better to just try and enjoy what he could with her there. "If you can't say… you can't say."
“Would that I could,” she agreed, sliding the toolkit off to set atop a bench. Flipping the clasps open, she fished out a pair of thin-corded cables and a diagnostic tablet. “It’s probably better you don’t know, at that. Ignorance is bliss.”
Just saying that made it seem the exact opposite. Knowing she had the information but couldn't say made Nick want to whine and beg her to tell him. But if she did, it would definitely mean the visits would stop - eliminate the chance there would ever be another one.
Now that he knew they were possible, it almost counted as something to look forward to.
"Okay… what are you doing with that?" Even if he had some idea, it always made him feel better to get an explanation as it went, and Olly wasn't ever one to withhold it. "What are you going to check?"
“It’s just a diagnostic …Really, it’s nothing you need to worry about. They’re more interested in the fact I’m taking the test than what your readouts are.” Pausing to enter a series of logins, she patted the empty bench in invitation. “Sit. …Trust me. It’s nothing you can fail.”
Coming from anyone else, those words might have sounded hollow and put-on. Coming from the technician who once worked a solid two week stretch, camping out on a futon in the same laboratory as her ‘patients’, they had a little more credibility. Connor and Dennis may not have liked the extra attention she showered on them, chatting about more than code sequences and percentages, but they each had admitted to a little disappointment at hearing she had left the project.
Now wouldn’t they just be positively jealous?
Sitting down without saying anything else, he folded his hands in his lap, paused, then scooched himself closer to her to peer at her and what she was doing. He was never any good at holding still. "Good… or Connor would get mad at me. Or he - probably still will."
Even if he was being petty, Nick would rather complain to someone who was right there, who would actually listen, then not say it at all. Of course he invited it, at least partially, but it didn't make it any less - distressing, for one of his partners to be angered by him almost constantly, it felt like.
Connor always said that was what neutrality looked like, to him. He seriously needed to readjust his definition of getting along.
Eyes on the job, Olly folded the collar of his jacket down, trailing a fingertip along the faux occipital ridge before pressing down. The false skin covering the back of his neck melted away. “Yeah? What’ve they been letting him get away with?” Even as she asked, she drew both cables up, threading the connectors into ports. The tablet lit up with a innocent-sounding
bleep
.
A corresponding program window appeared dead center of his HUD.
Access Authorized
Remain still
The text itself flashed between red and white, as if it were somehow an urgent reminder. The importance of keeping motionless trumped all else.
Or perhaps that was just natural with his design - he was unusually prone to twitching and jitters. Olly knew that firsthand, having been on the receiving end of one accidental spasm. She was lucky not to break her nose.
(
He really didn't mean to, but as soon as the words flashed it was like it was out of his control, like the whole side of his body jerked with surprise, arm flinging up before he could think to stop himself, backhanding her right across her face, as if he was actually, deliberately, smacking the technician - "Sorry! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I couldn't help it, I'm sorry!")
Gritting his teeth together for extra grounding, Nick forced himself still, even through the weird feeling. It didn't hurt, or anything, but it was always just a bit of a shock to be plugged into something, or vice versa.
"Dunno, just… a lot. He ripped my hair out when he forced me to let him comb it, the other day."
The typing upon the touchscreen stopped cold. The processes tied to it stalled out, idling progress bars clicking to a halt.
Olly’s voice went a few degrees colder to match. “Did he? …What else?”
"Pushed me off a bridge in the garden…" Trailing off with a whine, Nick failed to mention what he did in response. He took his own form of punishment for his disrespectful actions, and wouldn’t think to cross Amanda again. "I wasn't even doing anything, we were just talking, and he started being mean, so I tried to stop the conversation."
“Where was Dennis?”
"Dunno, he wasn't in the garden then… but I dunno if that woulda stopped Connor. He's just been mean, lately. Asked when I gonna crack…" Giving a shrug, Nick ducked his face with the memory. No matter what, it seemed like everything he did just served to make Connor even more furious. "He gets mad at everything."
Maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe, from his perspective, it simply seemed like the trio’s primary was always upset about something. After months of simulations and tests and the occasional corporate powwow, they didn’t seem any closer to being cleared for their intended rollout test.
Perhaps Olly’s report was a sign of what was just around the corner?
She didn’t sound pleased with this particular development. Still paused in whatever routine she meant to run, she leaned over, giving her patient’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
"It's not - too bad, Dennis tells him to stop." Ignoring the urge to look back at her, Nick tried to stop the situation from sounding too horrible. Really, it was more of the same… sure, it wasn't fun, but he was handling it, best he could, just like he was expected to. "He just… likes to say mean things, when I don't do good at something. Which is everything."
“It’s not his job to critique you, and expect changes, Nick. That’s for Amanda to ensure.” The hand lifted off, only to resettle atop his head, fingers burrowing under the tangled snarls of hair. “You don’t keep this mop in order, because she hasn’t told you to. That’s Connor’s expectation and no one else’s. The anger is the same phenomenon: it may not be expected, but it’s all he can think to do to motivate you.”
So it wasn’t that Connor wanted to be mad with him. He simply didn’t know what else to be. Punishing his third’s shortcomings only seemed to be worsening the results, though.
Didn’t Amanda see it? If she did, why wasn’t she bothering to address it?
Tilting his head back just the slightest, to try and see Olly through the very top of his field of vision, Nick almost let out a sigh at the touch. Maybe if Connor was actually gentle, he would even enjoy getting it detangled. But that most likely would never happen, realistically thinking. "But I don't - understand, then, why can't Amanda tell him to stop? She knows he pushed me over the bridge…"
Instead, all he had received was a stern lecture on the importance of minding critiques.
(And a warning to not dare touch the rose trellis ever again.)
“I’ve no doubt she’s said something to him by now. Has he bothered you since, or tried taming this mess again?” The kneading stopped, giving one snarl a soft tug before withdrawing. “If I were him, I’d lay off.”
Considering the woman knew each of their coding better than she would ever know the alleles of her own DNA, that remark came off as almost prophetic.
"He hasn’t really tried the comb again, but he still just - likes to get mad at me. Or not, like it, but he just does." Looking down at his hands in his lap, Nick let them wring themselves a bit, just to work out energy that wanted to come out in other nervous ways. It was best to try and stay as still as possible. "I wish he would. I know he gets frustrated, but… it just makes me more nervous. Especially when it's right after a test, or something."
(
Like when Connor had gotten frustrated at him, performing badly at some new negotiation-narrative trial, scoring even lower than the last attempt, eyes downward with some type of shame over it, especially when Connor opened his mouth again - "Really, did they source your parts from China, Nicholas?" And then he swallowed harshly at the insult, eyes angling down even further, arms crossed for some try at comfort)
“Well, I know this sounds like a small comfort, but he only gets that way because he cares.” As she spoke, Olly resumes typing. Readouts of code began scrawling down across his eyes like a nonsensical curtain of letters. “And I say ‘cares’ meaning he’s meant to. If he didn’t, CL would be looking at him funny. You’d miss his harassment if it suddenly wasn’t there, wouldn’t you?”
"...Probably. I don't want him to not - pay attention to me, or something, or just forget me, but I guess I wish he just wouldn't get so angry." Giving a tiny shrug, Nick frowned at the conundrum. If Connor didn't want to be nicer, or felt like he couldn't, he wouldn't be. And their life, such as it was, would go on that way until further notice. "Or I wish I could do something about it that would work. So I wouldn't make him so mad."
Olly hummed in thought. Circling halfway around, dragging the cables between them, she rested her hip against the bench’s armrest. Tablet balanced on her fingertips, she tilted it to diffuse the sun’s glare. “You aren’t failing for lack of trying. I’d think he’d be perceptive enough to cut you some slack.”
Maybe, at one time.
But what if it was simply a loop at this point? Fail, rail, repeat?
"I guess. Sorry, I just - ” Cutting himself off with a sigh, Nick shut his eyes for a moment, letting out a quiet huff at how nice the sun felt. It really was a reward, to go outside with Olly and spend the time venting. "Wish he would do that. I'm not ever
trying
to get him upset… it just happens."
Sitting there in the quiet for a moment, Nick tried to change the subject before Olly could say anything else. There was no need for him to keep sniffling about how mean Connor was, and how upset it made him. She knew by then, and there wasn't really anything anyone could do about such a thing. Those who could didn't seem to care.
"But… I dunno. It's okay, I'll be okay. I wanna… know about outside." Gesturing beyond the garden they were in, so she would know he clearly meant beyond the shores of Belle-Isle, Nick squinted, as if it would let him see farther on. "With you, I mean. What do you do now? What else is there you could do? Do… you have any pets? We don't have any, but I think about that sometimes. I think I would be a good pet owner."
It actually seemed to catch her off guard again, but in the best possible way. Maitkin stopped typing, taking a long studious look at the city just across the river, like she had only just noticed it herself. “Pets are something I wish I could afford. It’s work enough just being a one-man repair tech. You know how many firms actually jumped at the chance to offer me a job, fresh out of this place?”
"A lot? You were always the best." It was true - no other tech had ever left an impression on not just him, but both Dennis and Connor, the way Olly had. It wasn't just doing her job, it was the connection she forged, and of course how obviously talented she was. "But did you… say no? You do your own stuff, now?"
To that she indulged in a well-honed eyeroll, even as she smiled and shook her head. “I was blacklisted, Nick. CyberLife can snap its fingers and put the bug in everyone’s ear that you’re too unreliable and over-opinionated to ever offer true and impartial technical expertise on AI or motor systems. No firm would wipe its shoes with me.”
"Oh." Trying not to seem too confused by such a concept, metaphorically or otherwise, Nick nodded. It was distressing, to say the least, that CyberLife would do such a thing to someone like Olly. All because she quit? It seemed all so disproportionate. "I'm sorry, Olly. They shouldn't have done that to you, why would they do that? What do you do now, then? …What is Detroit like, where you are? I know we've learned some about it, but… what do you say it's like?"
If they were soon to be thrust into a new situation at any moment, Nick wanted to at least know what Olly thought of such a place. Perhaps she was still doing well enough, blacklisted as she apparently was. With CyberLife being the most major source of employment in Detroit, options for someone with her skill sets were altogether upturned.
“There’s been many a night I envy the fact you androids don’t have to eat, or bathe regularly.” Pausing to let that sink in, even as he took an alarmed second look at her, Olly scoffed. Another braid cake loose, which she fastidiously threaded back behind one ear. “This is the nicest I’ve looked in a few weeks. CL was generous enough to pay half up front, let me get myself looking decent. Detroit, for me, is as full of opportunities as it isn’t. I spend most of my time combing classifieds, looking for technicians-wanted posts. There isn’t aren’t any shortage of them cropping up, for secondhand models. But I’m not the only vulture going after those kinds of jobs.”
So, in short, Detroit was a fine enough place, if you didn’t mind fighting from sunup to sundown to make ends meet. Olly’s situation wasn’t unlike a somewhat-broken circuit: insulation around the wire had frayed, but she was still holding on. How much more bending and twisting she could stand was the question.
"And you won't… come back?" It was more wishful thinking than an actual question, but Nick couldn't help himself. If CyberLife was bringing her back now, though, they could bring her back permanently, right? "We're going out so soon, maybe they could use someone again, even if not - as much as usual. But maybe for just us?"
A second, sadder look seemed to wash over Olly’s face. For a moment she looked ready to stop typing, even set the tablet down. She had offered hugs before - just a means to test nonverbal communicative responses. It had been one of the most enjoyable parts of their development phase.
But here now only as a freelancer, she couldn’t afford such a breach of professionalism.
“I’m sorry, I can’t. CyberLife wouldn’t stand it.”
"Oh… okay." There was no need for Nick to pry even further, even if it confused him. Why would CyberLife not want that, when they were the ones who brought Olly back in the first place? Didn't that show they were willing to work with her, for the sake of a project?
But of course, Nick didn't know the full story. He barely even knew a tiny bit of it - Olly quit, CyberLife blacklisted her, and now she was back for this consultation only, most likely. He didn't know any of the why's, only the what's.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. We just miss you… I really missed you." Nick admitted, something he knew Olly already knew as well. But saying the words felt like it gave the feeling more weight, to mean more to both of them. "I'm really glad to see you again, especially if they're about to send us out soon."
“I kinda thought that was half the reason they even agreed. I’m something familiar, in contrast to all the new shit you three are in for.” Cracking a smirk at her own vulgarity, she shook her head again. “VR isn’t real life. And as yet, none of you has had a taste of it yet.”
"Is it really all that bad, out there?" Gesturing again to some vague place beyond the island, some place in Detroit, a whole different world, Nick tried not to immediately tense or lock up at the thought of how scary it
could
be. "Olly… how many people will there be, out there? In a day?"
“How many grains of sand are under our feet right now? Stop, don’t actually count them.” Counteracting her own command, she set a hand on his arm again, smoothing out the wrinkles bunched up at the shoulder. “There’s a lot of people, suffice to say. Detroit’s probably a few million, if you include people in the surrounding burbs. On a good day I think I brush elbows with a few thousand, just walking around.”
"Thousands…" Echoing her words, Nick let out a shiver at the thought, his own hand coming up automatically to grip at hers on his shoulder, twisting his face around to look at her better. "That's - a lot of people. I don't wanna meet that many. Olly, do you know where they'll send us, maybe?"
With both hands occupied, diagnostic paused, all she could do was spare him another smile. “I have ideas. Most of them are probably wrong. There’s no telling what kind of event CL may be waiting for. You’ll know when you hear a beep and Amanda forwards the location.”
Which was probably fine for the likes of Connor or Dennis. They had fewer qualms about it, the overall mission, and what they were made to do. Both were experts in close-quarters combat and weapons use. More so than that, they were equipped with every investigative technology ever devised. Deviants, so they were told and shown, weren’t easy to detect.
How were they supposed to root out the cause in a city of millions?
One at a time didn’t seem like a very efficient means to do so. And yet, here they were.
"That sounds scary. At least we'll all be together, though." If there was any silver lining to this, it was definitely the fact that he would be with Dennis and Connor. Being sent out on their own - Nick couldn't imagine being separated for that long, for any real amount of time. "Maybe it'll be okay, then."
It was close to optimism as either of them could hope for. Olly brushes her thumb over the back of his hand in acknowledgment. “That’s all you need to keep in mind. No one of you is that functional alone… or, as insofar as the mission goes. They’ve kept you stewing here too long if Connor is chomping at the bit to get out.”
The analogy fit. But their primary wasn’t exactly horse-faced.
“Don’t quote me on this, but liasoning with Detroit PD was thrown around the whiteboard a lot. You might not have to do too much searching beyond whatever they catch through regular channels.” Worrying the corner of her mouth, Olly drew her hand back, tapping another sequence of commands into the tablet. “I listen to scanner apps every so often, and news feeds. Last night some kids in Greentown were hassling a couple on their way back home from a grocer. Their PL600 stepped in as one drew a knife. The cops turned up just as the husband pulled him off, knocked his lights out. The android wound up with the blade buried in his face, but even after keeping his owners safe, tech services had to take him out for analysis.”
Which wasn’t unusual. PL600s were domestic models. What was unusual that one would step in to defend people
without
first being commanded to. A soft memory reset would probably be the only reward he received.
The worst case scenario, another PL600 would take his place.
"The police? I guess that makes sense… since they would be the ones doing the cases if deviants hurt people." Processing the information, Nick nodded, before grimacing at the context of the story. "Knife in the face, though? Oh, wouldn't that - that hurt? I guess, even if not physically - if someone did that to me, I would be so upset."
“Because you’re you. And you aren’t most androids, Nick.” Sounding neither too critical or too appreciative of that proclamation, Olly busied herself with more scrolling and typing. Whatever the tablet was reading, it was evidently satisfactory.
"Oh-kay?" There wasn't much more to make of such a statement, without knowing just what that meant to Olly. For as nice as she was, she wasn’t without her mysteries, either. "I guess… I'll know soon. If they're sending us out in a bit."
“Waiting for the other shoe, first. Connor and Dennis need their work ups performed, too.”
"Will you do them?" It would be nice, if they could all see Olly beforehand, even just one-on-one. Even if both Connor and Dennis didn't need the same amount of fine tuning, or reassurance, they had really enjoyed her company. It was one of the few things in recent memory he could remember them feeling unanimously pleased about.
To that, she actually gave a small grin and ruffled his hair in response. “I’ll tell them all about how I missed your eagerness, don’t worry.”
A few windows flicked across the backs of his eyes, scrawling laterally so quick he couldn’t hope to read them. At the same time, a high whining tone - steady, but soft - built somewhere in the depths of his skull.
He knew that sound, akin to the hum of a processor chewing up new commands. Some process had been queued and was awaiting a hit on the execute button.
Tilting his head at it, Nick squinted, as if that would help him at identifying whatever was happening. But really, there was no need for him to be cautious or frightened - it was Olly. She was doing something for his own good, whatever it was,
and
she didn't mind answering his questions when she could.
Really, they all lucked out, with CyberLife bringing her back.
"Good. If you say so, they'll believe it, even Connor."
“I’m flattered my credibility still holds so strong with you guys. Really.” Tablet beeping, Olly checked the cable connectors for any looseness before pressing enter.
File 7290y.
Deleted.
With full admin privileges, she snipped the memory from existence before he could open it for one last glimpse. There wasn’t time enough to feel upset over what it was. Setting the tablet down atop the bench’s armrest, cables still plugged in, she hugged him around the shoulders, cheek pressed against the top of his head. “Nothing’s wrong with you, Nick. Don’t let him tell you different.”
Because everyone's opinions were just that - different.
Whatever Connor thought otherwise.