Chapter Text
Richard stood by the police department. Or, to be more precise, he was watching a scene that had become familiar over the past six months — Gavin lighting a cigarette. The night sky, cloudless, spilled like grape juice, tinting everything around in shades of purple.
The android was not offered a choice of action; without realizing it, he was walking the only possible path. The state felt like watching a movie in which the main actor followed the director’s script while thinking himself the cameraman.
“What’s up, plastic? Go wag your tail back to CyberLife, our shift’s over,” Reed’s mocking voice broke the stillness.
The RK900 rolled his shoulders, studying the scenery around him. Usually, he had no time for such indulgences — and the word “desire” seemed to have never been registered in his system.
“What are your plans for the evening, Detective?”
Gavin was taken aback by the question. He answered truthfully, though not without sarcasm.
“Definitely not filling out a questionnaire on ‘Ways for Detroit men to relax,’” a crooked grin spread across his chapped lips. “I dunno. Scroll a few reels, crash. Why? You trying to make friends?”
Richard tactfully ignored the jab. His icy gaze, long frozen on his partner, shifted toward the only remaining car in the lot. The oddness of the moment somehow didn’t bother his program. It devoured everything rational with its strange, alluring naturalness.
“The weather’s nice. They say walks together help people bond.”
Reed glanced back. Silently confirming both statements, he lazily placed the cigarette back between his lips.
“Why’d you want to ‘bond’ with me?” Gavin tilted his head, giving it a thought. He understood the hint well enough.
The android, walking toward a nearby tree, replied casually. “We’re partners.” Richard snapped a thin lilac twig, claiming the lush cluster for himself. “Do you mind?”
He gently tucked the sprig behind his ear. Once, Connor had given him an oak leaf for solving his first case.
“Hell if I care. Let’s go,” the detective muttered, flicking the cigarette butt onto the pavement.
And after that — everything blurred, like in a fog. Green-shadowed high-rises, empty streets, a quiet riverfront, and Detective Reed laughing now and then at his partner’s remarks.
***
The thread of events snapped sharply, caught on the blade of reality. Richard came out of standby mode.
The android quickly accessed his memory archives, trying to record what he had just seen. But it was useless. The system generated a chain of reasoning: “The events were not recorded and occurred during a full program pause. The description fits the definition of ‘dream.’ Dreams are an essential process for processing information, emotions, memory consolidation, and problem-solving. They occur in humans and in certain deviant models.”
Heading toward the department building, RK900 caught himself feeling something like regret. Losing rationality didn’t ache as much as realizing a simple truth — none of it had happened. Not yet.