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“How about this one?”
Connor held the prospective Christmas gift up, displaying a very warm looking bathrobe with navy blue and black stripes.
Nines paused while sifting through a rack of pajamas to look it over. “Ehh.. I don’t like that color. Too dark. It’ll show every dog hair.”
“Mm.” Connor donned a soft smile at the mention of dog hair. “Yeah, you’re right.” He put it back and continued down the line of bathrobes, scraping plastic hangers along the metal display pole. “Oh, this is better, I think?” He presented one of similar design, green and white in color, a bit of a dated look to it.
“Much better,” Nines said, “Very much Hank’s style.”
Connor held the garment up in front of himself to be extra sure it was the right one. His hand brushed over the fabric, ensuring it was soft and plush and comfortable enough for his favorite old man. His smile brightened the longer he appraised the gift. Nines could never stop himself from staring when Connor smiled like that. They’d been to so many places and done so many things in their years together. Countless beautiful sights had crossed Nines’ eyes and yet, Connor’s smile would forever be at the top of his list of favorites.
Connor glanced just then and caught him staring, a dumb look on his face. “You’re such a sap,” Connor chuffed, rolling his eyes.
“Not my fault you have the best smile ever made,” Nines defended.
He’d heard it a million times. Connor shook his head, kissed his husband’s cheek, and draped the bathrobe over his arm. “Alright. Bathrobe is a go. Let’s hit up the appliance area next?”
“Lead the way, my dear.”
It was two days before Christmas, and every inch of retail space was filled with gift ideas and deals for last-minute shoppers. Christmas music spilled from the ceiling as they walked, falling like audible snow across the fake trees and rigid mannequins wearing Santa hats.
Every shiny gadget was given an analysis along the way. Coffee makers and blenders and trinkets… Connor considered each of them. He stopped at a food processor. “Do you think he’d use that?” Nines needed only to raise a brow. The corner of Connor’s mouth pinched. “You’re right … Hmm..” A large assortment of Tupperware caught his attention next. “Ooh!” He bee-lined to them. “How about these?”
Nines turned the box over in his hands. Why was Tupperware so insanely expensive? “They look nice and sturdy.” He read some of the highlights. “Microwave safe,” he confirmed aloud, ”because you know he’s not gonna put anything but take-out in them now that we’ve moved too far for you to make sure he’s eating healthy.” Connor frowned. Nines pretended not to see it. “It’s a cute print, too.” He nodded in approval. “Yeah, I think those will work.”
Smiling again already, Connor squeezed the bathrobe in his arms and made a happy little wiggle. “Sweet. Think we’re done here, then?”
“I think so!”
Next to the checkout lines was a grand tree, dripping with Christmas decorations. There was a large round ornament, midnight blue in color, with an iridescent rainbow sheen to it; Like spilled oil shimmering on a wet road. Nines reached out to examine it gently and it unintentionally came loose from the branch, resting in his hand. “That’s beautiful,” Connor remarked.
“Looks like it wants to go home with us,” Nines said. It would look great on their tree.
Connor’s smile sold it. “There’s plenty of space for it on the tree,” he said approvingly.
‘Plenty’ was relative. They’d accumulated a lot of ornaments through the years and had a well-decorated tree. That didn’t stop Nines from nodding, keeping the glass orb safely in his hand. They’d make space. Maybe they’d buy a bigger tree next year.
They found a pair of socks near the checkout as well, a pair of slippers at a different store, and stopped for thirium on the way home.
Finger tapping the wheel as he drove, Nines mentioned, “We’ll need to go to a grocery store tomorrow, get some snacks and stuff to have in the house before Hank gets here.” Connor nodded in agreement as he watched the buildings blur by. “What do we want to make for Christmas dinner?”
“Turkey,” Connor replied. “He loved how I made it last year.” He added after a moment, “We can just buy a single turkey breast obviously. Won’t need more than that, and we’ll still be able to send him home with leftovers.” Feeding a single human didn’t take much food.
“Of course.” Nines glanced over and smiled. “Turkey it is. We’ll hit up the store tomorrow afternoon.”
Nines didn’t miss how Connor’s expression lit up every time they walked into the house. Christmas was his favorite time of year, and the tree they always decorated together adorned their small living room with its warm and friendly glow. Connor closed the door behind them. “Hey I’m gonna call Hank and make sure he’s all packed to head this way tomorrow.”
“Of course. Oh… but, grab the bag out of the trash first if you would? I’m gonna set this stuff in the bedroom and I’ll take the trash down to the dumpster.” He disappeared down the hall with their purchases in hand. Connor was loading a new bag into the trash bin when he returned. Nines grabbed the full one. “Thanks babe, be right back. Tell Hank I said hi!”
“Will do!”
The phone rang four times before Hank’s familiar gruff voice picked up. “Hello?”
“Hey dad!”
“Ah, hey Con! How’s it going son?”
“Going great!” Connor’s smile permeated his voice. “Just got some last minute shopping done.”
“Not for me, I hope. I don’t need nothing, you know that.”
“Yeah, yeah. You complain every year, but I know you still use that new coffee maker every day.” There was a pause, and a chuckle, and then a grumble that neither confirmed nor denied the claim. Connor asked, “You all set to hit the road tomorrow?”
“Yep, yep. I should be out of here by ten or so in the morning. That’ll put me there well before dinner.”
“I checked the weather forecast along your route … shouldn’t be snow or anything holding you up, hopefully.”
“Eh,” Hank dismissed, “it’ll be fine. Buffalo isn’t that far.”
“Stubborn as ever,” Connor muttered under his breath. There was another dismissive grunt in reply. “Just be careful, ok? Make sure Sumo is tethered in the back. You can’t have him jumping into the front seat, it’s not safe.”
“I know, I know. I’ll be fine. Quit your worrying.”
“Can’t help it,” Connor replied. His voice perked up, “We can’t wait to see you— oh! Nines is outside, but said to tell you hello!”
“Mm! Tell him I said hi.” A brief pause left them both silent. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow, ok?”
“Yeah.” Connor’s reluctance to end the call always showed. “Drive safe dad. I love you.”
“Love you too, son. I’ll call you as soon as I’m on the road.”
“Please do. Get some rest!”
“Will do. Night, Con!
“Night, dad!” Connor let the connection drop, sighing immediately thereafter. He loved it in Buffalo, but he missed Hank every single day. His heavier mood left as soon as Nines walked in, carrying a small bag. “What’s that?”
“That ornament that asked to come home with us,” he chuckled. “I forgot the teller bagged it separately.” He withdrew the paper-wrapped globe and extended it to Connor. “Will you do the honors, my love?”
“I will!” Connor took and unwrapped it carefully, stepping closer to the tree. “Hmmm…” he extended it by the velvet string to an easily seen branch. “Right here. It’s perfect.” Eyes sparkling from the twinkling lights and shiny ornaments, Connor situated the delicate glass ornament securely into a branch before taking a step back and looking over the whole tree. “Do you think he’ll like it?”
Nines stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around the being he loved most in this entire world. They stood there for a moment, both of them silently appreciating the iconic symbol of such comfort and happiness. He pressed a lengthy kiss to Connor’s temple as Connor leaned into the entire embrace. “I think he’s going to love it.” He pulled his husband backwards, earning a surprised, happy squawk as he dragged Connor down onto the couch with him.
Turning in his arms, Connor situated himself comfortably into Nines’ lap. “I love you,” Connor mumbled into the collar of his shirt.
Nines’ fingers ran through the 800’s soft hair as he hugged Connor closely against him. “I love you too,” he whispered with a kiss, keeping Connor’s lips pressed to his with a hand at the back of his neck.
Nines sighed, letting his hand linger there. This was always the hardest part.
Years ago now, he’d mastered interfacing with Connor undetected. It took only a blink for the 800 to sink fully against him, consciousness pulled from him unknowingly. Nines kissed him on the temple again, and the gesture was just as filled with love as all the others, though the smile fell from his lips.
Once inside of Connor’s software, Nines pushed easily past the inferior firewalls, navigating programming he knew as well as his own. He accessed Connor’s hard drive and pushed beyond, into the core of Connor’s memory files.
Dismissing his system’s pre-programmed warning about opening his own files within an interface, he tapped into the most heavily encrypted database in his own system. With expert precision, he intertwined the coding.
He wove into Connor’s memory the delight on Hank’s face at seeing their Christmas tree, and his praise of Connor’s cooking. He implanted memories of Sumo nearly knocking the turkey off the counter top, and the three of them watching the giant dog bound across the pebbled beach. The water had been so cold, and Sumo hadn’t cared a bit.
There were memories of Hank singing along poorly to Christmas music, and the silence of watching flurries fall. Nines included every laugh, ever smile, every moment shared between Connor and his beloved but increasingly frail father figure.
Most of the memories were Connor’s own. He’d observed and written them, and his emotion behind them was intact.
They were, however, old memories. Twenty-three years old, in fact. New memories of Hank were unattainable. He’d died peacefully more than eighteen years ago, surrounded by everyone he loved, Connor included.
Connor couldn’t remember that though, because just like human bones and muscles grow old, so do wires and hard drives.
So they had this. This manipulation — this toying with Connor’s system — it was the only way Connor could have his human back again, if only for a day or two. Once he was brought back online, the memories would be lost again after 48 hours, moment by moment, as Connor’s system attempted to move them from temp files and commit them to his permanent storage database. He’d lost the capability to remember anything for longer than 48 hours two years before Hank had died.
They’d moved away because it became too confusing for Connor to drive by Hank's house to say hello, only to find it repainted and filled with strangers. The new owners were gracious enough to have not called the police when a furious and desperately confused Connor called Nines from their doorstep, insisting that people had broken into Hank’s house and hidden him somewhere. It had happened on two separate occasions.
Many hopes had been wasted on repairs. CyberLife had attempted, twice, to restore Connor’s ability to retain long-term memory files. The first time, there was improvement, but it lasted only six months. The second time, they’d lost as much of Connor as they’d saved. Things he should’ve remembered that predated his system failure had been lost. They’d known there would be risk. Transferring corrupted files was always delicate. But to hear Connor ask Nines how they’d met, or what had ever happened to Gavin Reed? … Nines couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t risk losing all he had left of Connor to the chance of restoring him.
So very many tears had fallen. So many times Nines had watched Connor’s heart break, in the beginning, when he’d told him over and again that Hank was gone and his memories had failed him. So many times, Nines had driven Connor to a gravestone and watched him weep for someone so freshly present in his broken mind.
Every couple of days, for almost three years, Nines broke Connor’s heart, as well as his own.
For his own sanity, and for Connor’s, they’d made a home in New York. Nines talked about it daily, at least in some small way, so that Connor never had the opportunity to fully forget that they lived there now. He seemed to accept it and feel at home, even if the circumstances were lost to him.
Nines had bought a phone, and hacked it to Hank’s old phone number. Connor had never noticed that Nines’ body and Hank’s voice were never together in the same room.
Sometimes there would be a look. A glimpse of something like worry that crossed Connor’s face. Nines could only imagine there was occasionally a thread of awareness — Internal conflict between corrupted memories or the disconnect between them and the current date. They never lasted long though, those looks of confusion.
It was all a lie. And Nines hated himself for it.
But Connor was happy. Genuinely happy, it seemed, at least most of the time. So was it really so terrible? Nines wasn’t sure.
Either way, he’d be spending another Christmas in the quiet company of Connor’s downpowered body. There would be no trip to the grocery store tomorrow. He’d return the gifts on the 26th, and then he’d bring Connor online again. And for the two days following Christmas, they’d talk and laugh about how much Hank loved the tree, and how much fun Sumo had running on the beach.