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Friday nights, after a long and gruelling week of work, were what Hank had dubbed ‘Movie Nights’. He ordered in some sort of takeout (usually pizza) and kicked back on the couch as he and Connor found a movie to watch on the TV. Sometimes it was a classic or a favourite he’d wanted to share with Connor— indeed, the tradition had begun because he realised that Connor had barely any popular culture knowledge and had been horrified at the notion. Other times, they put on shitty movies and laughed at how bad they were. Like crappy romance movies, Christmas or regular ones, though Hank preferred the Christmas ones as “at least there’s something fuckin’ interesting about them”.
Their choice was as such tonight—a cheesy Christmas romance movie, titled An android for Christmas, a new title released that same year. It was about an android and a human who started off hating each other, the android being bought for the human (it was set pre-Revolution, and written by a human, of course) and the human wanting nothing to do with them.
“And I don’t need a fucking android, Susan!”
Hank snorted. “I’d relate to Tom if he wasn’t such an insufferable dickhead.”
“The movie has been on for ten minutes, Hank,” Connor groaned, watching as Susan gave Tom the android anyway and told him he could do with some company after his wife had died the year previous. “Susan doesn’t appear to understand grief very well.”
“You’re telling me. Didn’t Tom’s wife get killed by an android?”
Connor nodded. “Yes, his wife was knocked down the stairs by their Roomba.”
Hank laughed. “Still fuckin’ funny.”
“She broke her neck, Hank. She died.”
“Maybe she shouldn’t have died in such a funny fuckin’ way. I mean, come on, a Roomba. It’s not like this… what’s her fuckin’ name—”
“Sarah,” Connor supplied.
“It’s not like Sarah the android is anything like a fuckin’ Roomba.”
Connor nodded, glancing across at him. “Well, yes, but it’s not inaccurate to the way some humans treat or used to treat androids. Gavin still calls me a toaster whenever he gets the opportunity, and he still treats me as the walking equivalent of a coffee maker. Despite the fact I never even make him a coffee.”
Hank scowled. “Guess the movie ain’t too inaccurate about some fuckers then… I like to think it only took me a few days to warm up to ya. Of course, I did fuckin’ threaten to put you in a dumpster and set you on fire, but… character development, am I right?”
“Yes, you never did make real on your threat. Other than the Bridge incident, but I survived that unscathed.”
“Hey, hey, I was just uh… testin’ ya.”
Connor stared at him. “So you had no intention of shooting me when you pointed a gun at my head?”
Hank held his hands in surrender. “Well, no, cause you really did seem human. Now, if we were in some alternate timeline where you’d been an insufferable dick who’d actually followed Cyberlife’s orders then I might have… considered it…”
“Wonderful. Thank you for sparing this timeline’s version of myself, Hank.”
With a bemused shake of the head, Connor turned back to the movie.
Sarah was a cleaning android and during the next scene, she found Tom’s wife’s ashes and polished the urn. Tom lost his shit and stormed out of the room with threats about sending her back to the store she came from, but when Sarah followed him, they shared a heartfelt scene while ‘Here comes Santa Claus’ played.
“The fuck is this music choice for? His wife’s fucking dead, who gives a shit about Santa Claus right now?”
“That’s a record for amount of swears per sentence, Hank. Impressive.”
Hank flipped him off. “Hey, these movies bring out the worst in me, alright? They’re corny as all shit! Seriously, how is his grief being dug back up again cause for them to fuckin’… stare into each other’s eyes? What’s fucking Christmas-sy about all this?”
Connor watched as Hank ranted, smirking. “If you don’t like the movie, Hank…”
Hank shook his head. “I hate it. And I love it. We’re watching it.”
The movie progressed to a scene where Tom came home from work to find a meal prepared for him by Sarah, except there was something about it that made him wipe tears from his eyes.
Hank chuckled. “Heh, that’s me when you try and cook anything. Brings tears to my eyes because it’s always fuckin’ burnt and then my kitchen smells like smoke for days after.”
“As you might say, Hank, fuck you.”
Hank stared at him and gasped, ignoring the screen as Tom mumbled about the food being the same dishes his late wife used to make. “I am not gonna get used to ya fuckin’ swearing. Jesus Christ.”
Connor rolled his eyes, looking back at the TV, seeing Tom digging into the meal. His eyebrow raised as he called Sarah over, and then, she ate a piece.
“What? She’s going to die??”
Hank looked back to the screen, eyes going wide as he watched Sarah eating the piece of pie. “Holy shit. You think they had her spit it out afterward?”
But Sarah simply continued to eat more of it, and visibly swallowed.
Connor narrowed his eyes, and his LED span yellow as he researched the cast of the movie. He registered the information he found with a groan.
“Of course. They got a human to play the android.”
Hank’s jaw hung open. “What the fuck. There’s so many damn androids out there! Wh… why?”
Connor shrugged. “Maybe so they could get away with android physiology inaccuracies such as that an android could eat human food. They clearly didn’t consult any androids while writing the script.”
“What a shitty fuckin’ movie,” Hank groaned, leaving it on.
During the midway point, Sarah and Tom went outside to a tree lighting ceremony, and while there, they met Susan. Susan began to tease Tom about how close he’d gotten with the android he’d said he hadn’t wanted.
Tom vehemently denied it, but when Susan walked away, the camera made it very clear that Tom was gazing longingly at Sarah, who herself was staring up at the now lit Christmas tree with wonder in her eyes.
“It’s… it’s wonderful, Tom. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
“You and tinsel,” Hank remarked.
Connor nodded. “I love tinsel. It’s one of the greatest wonders of the Christmas season. It—”
“Christ, here we go again. Me and my big fuckin’ mouth.”
“Tinsel is a wonderful decoration,” Connor continued, “it makes pleasant sounds and is nice to touch. It’s metallic and shiny and you can wrap it around anything; your bedframe, your windows, your doorway, your tree, your—”
“Can it, tinsel boy, you’re gonna miss the lovey dovey shit they’re doing right now!”
Connor glanced to the screen and watched as the two characters shared what was intended to be a touching moment. They stared into each other’s eyes, the lights of the tree reflecting a bright glow on their cheeks. They seemed to lean in a little closer, and then…
Tom pulled away.
Connor quirked a brow as he watched this scene play out. “What exactly were they going to do? Touch noses?”
“They were gonna kiss, dumbass,” Hank said, with little heat behind his words.
Connor’s LED span yellow as he registered this. “Oh. Well… why?”
Hank laughed. “The fuck you mean why? Like in every damn romance movie we’ve watched?”
Connor nodded, glancing down at his lap. “I know they always… do that. But I always wonder why. Why do they interlock lips like that?”
“Jesus fuck, that’s about the worst damn way of describing kissing… I don’t know. Cause it always happens in these movies, and they enjoy it?”
That made enough sense to Connor, he figured, nodding and dropping the subject.
But the subject wasn’t so easily let go as the movie reached its final scenes later on in the evening, getting to the point of dramatic tension as Sarah became a deviant and Tom questioned what to do with her. She was going to run away, and he wanted to stop her, but then he had a flashback to his wife falling down the stairs after tripping over the Roomba.
“God. That really is… shitty writing, huh.”
“Down she goes again…” Connor sighed. “Why was the Roomba on the top floor of the house? We saw it earlier in the flashback downstairs… they can’t climb stairs.”
“Deviant Roomba,” Hank suggested, “it grew legs and climbed up there specifically to kill her.”
With a chuckle, Connor looked back to the screen, watching as Tom came back to reality and Sarah was gone. He ran outside screaming for her, unable to see far ahead because there was a raging snowstorm.
“Why doesn’t he just fuckin’ phone her?”
“Yes… androids do have the ability to receive calls in their minds; it would make a lot more sense than running out into the blizzard.”
“Imagine there’s a Roomba outside and he fuckin’ trips over it and dies. And then they play fuckin’ Frosty the Snowman or some shit as he bleeds out.”
Alas, Tom did not die in the movie, instead catching up with Sarah just as she was about to board a bus that was heading out of the city. He pleaded with her not to go, and after some back and forth, she agreed. They stood out in the snow and embraced, before kissing.
Connor felt something in him recoil upon seeing this and turned his head to the side. It brought up that question again… why? Why did they want to do that? It seemed so… strange, and unreal to him. Imagining himself doing that with anyone—absolutely not, was his immediate reaction. He felt a cold feeling curl up inside him, clinging to his insides.
“They’ve finished kissing,” Hank told him, and Connor looked up to him, startled to realise Hank had noticed.
“Ah, I… I see…”
As the end scene played, neither of them were really paying attention to the movie anymore.
“So, I notice you always do that,” Hank began, “whenever the characters kiss you look away and look like you’ve bitten into a sour lemon, and generally you just seem kind of… I don’t know, uninterested in the romance in romance movies?”
“I enjoy watching them with you,” Connor assured, “they’re… humorous to watch. To see this fictional concept on the screen and tear apart the shitty writing and acting.”
“Fictional concept?”
“Well, of course. People enjoying the romance? I know that humans enter what they call romantic relationships, but… all this kissing and such, that’s just for show, isn’t it?” He titled his head. “I mean, no one actually wants and enjoys that, do they?”
Hank stared at him. After a long pause, he answered. “…I mean, yeah, they do. People enjoy that. Some people. They have romantic relationships where they kiss and all that shit.”
“I’m not saying people don’t enjoy relationships. Having a close partnership sounds pleasant. Someone who you get on with, to share your life with… but really, all of that, is it—”
“Yes. That’s… romantic attraction, Connor. It’s a real thing.”
“Oh.”
His LED spun yellow as he processed this. So what he saw on these romance movies, and between partners out in public, that was all something people felt. Some part of humans where they wanted these things, wanted these relationships with other people, it…
He didn’t feel that.
“Is there something wrong with me, then?”
“There is nothing wrong with ya, other than your cooking skills.”
“I’m being serious, Hank,” Connor complained, “I don’t… feel this ‘romantic attraction’ as you put it. I don’t think I can even describe what it is, I don’t understand how it can be such a part of someone’s experience, what it even feels like, I… but if this is a part of being human then why don’t I feel it?”
Hank placed a hand on his leg. “Alright then, seriously, there’s nothing fuckin’ wrong with you. Alright? Not all humans feel this. Some feel it in different ways, there’s a whole variety of different ways humans can feel or not feel it. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you sound like you both don’t feel it at all and find it kind of gross.”
“Correct. Not in a judgemental way, but… I can enjoy those movies until they begin kissing, and yet while I enjoy them otherwise… the way this genre seems so popular among human media, among humans themselves… it’s frustrating. It doesn’t make sense. Why am I not like them?”
“Don’t need to be. So what if you don’t feel romantic attraction? It ain’t something wrong with you. If it helps, why don’t you use your android google brain and research a thing called bein’ ‘aromantic’. Swear I’ve heard that one from someone before…”
Connor nodded, LED spinning as he researched this term. A romantic orientation to describe people who do not experience romantic attraction. He tilted his head as he learnt that the A in acronym also stood for asexual, about people who did not experience sexual attraction towards others. He could relate to both terms, but in a way where they both seemed wrapped around each other in his core, in a way he couldn’t exactly describe but made sense as he found the term AroAce.
“That’s me,” he said, LED spinning back to blue as he exited out of his research. “There is a name for my experience… aroace… and other humans and androids seem to have… experience with this.” He glanced across to Hank, who was looking back at him with a smile. “Sorry, I…”
“Feel better?”
Connor nodded.
“Good. Want to watch another shitty movie?”
With a chuckle, Connor agreed. “Sure… but how about a different genre this time? Not that I don’t enjoy those ones, but…”
“Nah, I get that. Sumo slept through the whole damn movie; it must’ve been bad. Let’s put on something more interesting this time.”
“Thank you, Hank.”
He settled back into his seat, feeling a lot more at ease. It was as simple as that, really. He’d found words to describe the identity he’d felt all along and that was just… it. It was as comfortable as slipping into pyjamas at the end of the evening. Soft and cozy, and made just for him. He was happy. He—
“Hank, no, please don’t put Flushed Away on again! We’ve watched it seven times, I—”
“It’s a classic.”
Connor wasn’t sure what was worse: romance movies, or the 2006 DreamWorks movie, Flushed Away.