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The first time Markus has recorded within his logs is 09:57 A.M., November 6th.
It was only the briefest of connection, something he almost could have missed considering the day he’d been having. After climbing out of the landfill he’d been thrown into like any other trash, any other machine the humans decided they had no use for anymore, Markus was more concerned with his search for Jericho. He was walking through the world as an individual for the first time, and it was a world set on rejecting him.
And then came the connection. No words or images were communicated. It was just a presence, as if Markus were interfacing with another android though there was none around. A presence, and an identification number. Markus filed the connection under the number and then mostly ignored it, for the time being. Finding Jericho took precedence over everything.
The second time Markus has recorded within his logs is 07:51 P.M. of the same day.
At the time Markus hadn’t recognized it as the second time. He failed to connect the two experiences, despite how similar they were. He was planning the theft of Cyberlife resources with the leaders of Jericho when there was the slightest interaction with his own system, a presence and a number. Fleeting as it had been the first time.
Markus had looked up from the supplies that were being gathered, thinking someone was trying to get his attention. But none of the other androids were even looking at him, and Markus was coming to understand that the androids of Jericho regarded their personhood as sacred. They wouldn’t open a connection with a stranger if they could simply call out to him.
Again, Markus filed the connection and put it aside. Whatever it was could certainly wait until after the mission.
The third time Markus has recorded within his logs is 04:06 P.M., November 8th.
By this time Markus became suspicious of the seemingly meaningless connections. All three attached to the same identification number, received at random times or else in a pattern Markus could not derive, with no intent or communication made clear. Markus supposed there could be a nefarious purpose behind this, remembering North’s warning that he would become a target for anyone looking to stop the androids’ call for freedom.
Markus didn’t believe this fit, though. Two of the connections had been made before Markus had made himself a public figure. And no viruses had been imparted through the interactions. There was no communication even attempted, as far as Markus could tell. It reminded him of the moment when Lucy had taken his hand, synthetic skin peeling away to reveal smooth plastic. The moment of a door being opened between two people, of reaching through and meeting each other.
Was that even possible without the physical connection?
If the previous times were the brief opening of a door, what happened during Markus’ speech was akin to an explosion ripping the door off its hinges and leaving a gaping hole behind.
The influx of data was overwhelming, and Markus stuttered to a stop despite knowing the eyes of every free android were turned to him in expectation. The same number, the #313 248 317 - 51 that had been attached to every previous mysterious interfacing, accompanied by the model RK800 and the registered name Connor. Even more, an influx of feeling.
Fear hit Markus through the connection, flooding through his system as if it were his own. Connor’s fear, broadcasted to him from two feet away. And Connor’s desperation, a determination Markus had sensed when the former deviant hunter had volunteered to go on a suicide mission to Cyberlife Tower. And underneath it all, a seeping shame that felt like muck in his system, something disgusting clinging to the parts under his plastic casing.
He felt cold, though moments before he had been warm in his thick coat. The sudden chill was as solid as a wall, leaving Markus shuddering and confused.
When Markus looked over his shoulder, Connor had his gun in hand and was staring at Markus in turn. Markus didn’t want to know what Connor was getting through their connection. The fear was dying down now, though Markus still couldn’t see what had scared Connor in the first place, what had caused him to draw his gun. In place of fearing, Markus could feel Connor’s rising confusion and suspicion. Clearly he hadn’t intended to open a connection, and Markus was sure it hadn’t been his own doing.
“Markus?” North asked from his other side, quiet and concerned. It was only then that Markus remembered where he was, and what he was doing. Still, Markus only turned back to the crowd when Connor gave a small shake of his head. When, through the open connection, came the message Not now.
And while Markus continued his speech, he sensed a resolve forming within Connor. He was unsurprised to find Connor missing by the end of it.
Markus attempted to pull Connor’s location through their connection as soon as he reached relative solitude and was met with panic and a frantic STOP! It was too late, and Connor seemed to realize that as panic began to bleed into frustration. Markus felt a little guilty for the invasion of privacy, but mostly was confused when he received Connor’s location.
What could he be doing at Elijah Kamski’s house?
When Markus was close to the Kamski residence, the frustration Connor had been sharing was suddenly overshadowed by a fierce rage. Worried, and unsure whether he was worried for Connor or of what Connor might do, Markus hurried.
When he arrived, a Chloe model opened the door before he had a chance to knock. It served as just one more reminder of how much work there had to be done in finding and recalling all the enslaved androids, and then opening their eyes to the world. Markus had given a victory speech that night, but the fight was far from over.
“You’re here for Elijah,” the Chloe said, and began to lead the way through the opulent foyer. “RK800 said to expect you.”
“His name is Connor,” Markus corrected, somewhat testily. Some androids rejected their names after deviation-despite being a Traci model, North had never accepted the name as her own. Since the moment of deviation, she had been someone else. Markus treasured his own name, a gift given to him by Carl who had cared for him as much as he had been able. He suspected Connor felt differently than either North or Markus, but he had never corrected a use of his name.
“Yes,” Chloe agreed easily, and Markus wondered what she thought of the topic. If she hadn’t deviated, it was likely she thought nothing at all about what name Connor preferred. When she opened the door to what might have been a home office as much as a lounge, Markus heard the shouting when before there had been silence.
“-tricked me!” Connor was saying. He appeared to be pacing the width of the room in front of Kamski, who was sat on a plush couch wearing an expensive crimson robe and a cruel smirk.
“I was completely honest with you,” Kamski returned easily, and then turned his gaze to the doorway. “Ah, Markus. We’ve been expecting you. I’m sure you know what’s going on, then?”
Across the connection still open, Markus felt Connor’s flash of annoyance and the return of ugly shame. When Markus was activated, he’d already been delivered to Carl. He had never met his creator before, and now that he had he decided he didn’t like Kamski at all. He couldn’t like anyone who made Connor feel like that.
“Something you’ve done, I’m sure.” Markus felt a spark of relief coming from Connor, feels the unspoken you’re on my side and hopes he’s sending back a clear I am. As long as Markus lives, Connor will never be without an ally or a friend.
“Not exactly.” Unfortunately, Kamski only looked pleased at Markus’ response. “After all, I’m not the one who activated Connor’s override programming. Or accessed the back exit.”
“Override?” Markus repeated, and felt Connor’s shame growing.
“Didn’t Connor tell you?” Kamski was enjoying this, poised to wield the information he held like a sword. “Cyberlife activated a program in place to take control of his body after deviation.”
Now, an image came through the connection. Somewhere cold and desolate, ravaged by a terrible blizzard. The echo of a voice, You accomplished your mission , and that fear Markus had felt when the connection first blew open on the stage.
“How could they do that?” Markus demanded, feeling that same fear take root within him. Fear for Connor, losing himself so soon after finding it. Fear for other androids, if Cyberlife could use this program on other deviants. “How could they take control after deviation?”
“It was planned,” Kamski answered easily, and Connor flinched. “Connor was always meant to be a deviant. That’s why he had so many choices, and so little limitations in his programming. Did you never wonder why you could walk out of here without the information you were sent to obtain?” This was directed directly to Connor, feeding into the self-doubt Markus could feel from him. “You were allowed a facsimile of free will, in the hope that you would develop the authentic article. And I gave you a way to protect yourself.”
“You didn’t tell me!”
“I told you what you needed to know and it worked. You remain safe.”
“How do I close the link?” Connor demanded harshly, and Markus knew his hurt could be felt through the connection. He understood how Connor felt. Interfacing was personal, and this was a more intimate and prolonged connection. But Markus still wished Connor would be less objectionable to the idea. After all, Markus had never done anything but try to help Connor since they had first met. And he liked Connor.
“You can’t,” Kamski told them simply. “You were never designed to exist alone. I had to hide my programming where Cyberlife couldn’t find it and ruin it, but now that it’s been activated I wouldn’t try to disconnect. You are both RK prototypes. I created you to share this connection.”
“There has to be a way,” Connor argued, and it almost sounded like begging.
“And if there is? Would you honestly rather go back to Amanda?” The name meant nothing to Markus, but it caused another jolt of fear in Connor. Enough that Markus could see the threat for what it was.
“That’s enough,” Markus decided, and Kamski’s gaze settled on him once again. “We’re done here.”
Markus took Connor’s arm and started leading him out the room. There’s nothing he can give us, he advised through the connection when he sensed Connor’s hesitance. Trust me. And Connor followed him.
“Feel free to come back,” Kamski offered casually, though Markus suspected it was anything but. “If you want to try some…experimentation.”
Perhaps as a testament to the effect Markus had on androids, or perhaps simply more evidence of the loyalty intrinsic to Connor, Markus led the way away from Kamski and his malicious promises and Connor followed without pause. Markus didn’t know where to take Connor, or where he’d want to go, so he headed towards a nearby bus stop. Connor could go anywhere he liked, now. They were free.
Markus felt Connor’s continued guilt, and when they finally reached the stop he couldn’t help but address it. “I don’t blame you. What Cyberlife did…it isn’t your fault.”
“I would have killed you,” Connor responded. He was staring at the ground, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t know if Cyberlife has any similar programs, or if the original is removed from my system. I could be a weapon without even knowing it. I could-”
“Connor,” Markus interrupted, trying for soothing. But he didn’t know the answer to any of those problems either. He didn’t know it was possible for Cyberlife to take control of a deviated android at all. The only thing he could think to offer was, “I trust you.”
He could feel through the connection that it didn’t assuage Connor’s fear, or his guilt. But it did serve to assure him, and he could feel Markus’ sincerity through the connection.
“I don’t know what this is yet. But we’re going to find out. I’m going to help you,” Markus promised, hoping Connor would see it as the superior alternative to Kamski and his dubious offer of help.
Connor didn’t respond other than to reach out and take Markus’ hand. The synthetic skin peeled back, though it was mostly redundant since the connection built into their programming was still open and strong. And coming through it was Connor’s own trust and relief.
And thank you.