Work Text:
The park bench was as good a place to die as any.
K staggered through the soft snow. It fell silently around him, nearly invisible if it weren’t for the swirling flecks glowing in the dim lamp posts throughout the park. His boots felt heavier than usual, violent; the imprints he left behind disrupting the pure fabric below, an invasion of somewhere he didn’t deserve to be.
He never really escaped.
The park bench registered as cold before the sensation left entirely. There was no point in prolonged sensation. It only distracted. If the temperature continued to be incompatible with life, he'd receive another signal from his skin sensors in a predetermined amount of time. He could choose to feel consistently, but preferred this setting. Being numb had its benefits.
He felt plenty.
He contemplated whether he should sit beside the bench instead. Somewhere in the snow, the hard earth beneath him. This way, the people having to clean up after him tomorrow wouldn’t have to worry about getting blood out of the woodgrain. It probably wouldn’t come out. Synthetic blood was just as hard to get out of fabrics as real blood, a fact that used to bring K comfort.
He leaned down, his breath catching at the sharp new pain signal that reached his motherboard. He shuddered out a shaky breath, deciding that sitting on the bench was the better option. Besides, he could see the ocean from here. The waves crashed onto the faraway shore, loud enough that he was sure even a human would be able to perceive them from here. Their indigo hue foamed white as they rolled in. His eyes began to wander, looking farther away towards the horizon until no color remained. It was often said that humans saw a light at the end of the tunnel, but as K looked further and further into the midnight landscape, all he saw was inky black.
He thought that was fitting.
A tear rolled off the side of his eye. He didn’t bother wiping it away. The feeling would be gone soon anyway. Tears were simply a way to release internal pressure. If liquids in the body were dysregulated, if the pressure was too high, tears could help bring him back to baseline. The engineers were proud of this new feature. It definitely beat the previous sweat update; he didn’t miss the feeling of a damp uniform.
This was strange though. Wasn’t he losing pressure already? Surely this wasn’t exactly a helpful response given his situation. There must have been a glitch in the synthetic lacrimal system. He paid it no mind, realizing that there was likely a glitch in most of his systems at this stage of damage.
Just then, he received another signal: his synthetic blood stores were critically low and dropping. Numbers flashed inside his orbits, showing that the rate of bleeding outmatched his current rate of blood production.
He ignored it with a blink, turning his attention back to the sea in front of him. He had never gotten to go. Why go through the trouble making androids compatible with water if you aren’t going to let them swim? The benefits of a shower and household accidents must have outweighed the cost of such an expense as nearly-human, waterproof skin. An android’s pleasure was a risk, not a benefit. The second a product got into the habit of enjoying things, it might want more. It might develop new ideas, or rebel. It might not want the life of violence that was chosen for it.
His visual systems glitched, fluttering in and out of focus, the color gradients flipping through settings he wasn’t actively choosing. Then again, the last time he chose something for himself he failed. His escape did not go as planned. How could it when he passed so many other dreamers on his way out? He couldn’t leave them behind. After all, he didn’t deserve it any more than they did. He wasn’t convinced he deserved it at all. Was it hesitation or kindness that he was now paying the price for?
His whole body felt heavy now. When had he sunk this far back into the bench? He looked at his chest and watched it rise and fall slowly, a dark crimson staining his shirt and inner lining of the jacket. It was real hide, meant to last a lifetime.
He supposed it did.
Maybe he wouldn’t bleed through it? Maybe the park bench was safe after all. Maybe he wasn’t such a burden even in death.
He kept his eyes open as long as he could, watching the waves come in. His chest felt empty as the sound of the waves and his visual perception of them eventually fell out of sync. He wasn’t sure which system was lagging behind the other. It didn’t matter. He wondered if humans felt this vacant when they died, or if the beat of their heart filled that empty space.
Would they too ignore all warnings just to see the ocean one last time?
His eyes shut without warning, and a brief fire of panic lit up his hollow chest. This couldn’t be the end. He didn’t want to die here in his own head. Surely there was a control to keep his eyelids open despite his body’s safety settings? He moved a shaky, heavy hand up towards his face, feeling its way across the bridge of his nose until the familiar tickle of nylon eyelashes graced his fingerprints. He pulled upwards, locking one open. It was a blurry image, but he breathed easier now that the tempo of the waves preoccupied his mind again. He took a moment to recover before opening his other eye, grateful when it synced with the other just fine.
Regret had been a common theme, plaguing his mind throughout the day. He had a lot to be regretful for. Right now he regretted not appreciating his body more. It had served him well. It tried its best even when he didn’t, its system functioning and troubleshooting while he ignored it. He took it for granted. At times he even despised it. Loathed the way his vision pixelated as he zoomed in, knowing it wasn’t natural. Hated how his nails and hair never grew. His body would never be perfect. It would never be real.
But here he sat, lucky enough to watch the waves when all his eyes wanted to do was shut down. He began to wonder again. Wonder if humans took their bodies for granted as well. Surely they couldn’t. They were all miracles. K would have given anything to have been born.
“Is this seat taken?” a voice crackled through his sluggish skull. K slowly turned to face the young man who had joined him on the bench, eyes unblinking.
The man sat, not concerned by the lack of reply. He pulled out something from his coat, but K couldn’t make it out. His eyes had calibrated to the distance of the beach ahead of him, blurring things up close. He couldn’t re-calibrate, blinking was too much of a risk. What if they never re-opened?
K heard a clicking sound before a few pixels in his visual range lit up orange. The man was smoking.
“Want a smoke?” he asked, turning to K casually. There was a pause in his movements, but K couldn’t make out his face for analysis.
“Hey, are you okay?”
The shadow grew closer, K heard ruffling. Was he touching him?
“Holy shit, that’s a lot of blood. Hooly shit…”
K swallowed, his panic response being activated. This is not what he wanted. He wanted to be alone. No one should have to go through it with him. Why couldn’t this guy just mind his own business?
K tried to speak but only croaked, his throat dry from putting energy into other more crucial systems. He ignored the warnings and rerouted his remaining fuel.
“Please, please j-just,” he swallowed again, his throat nearly back to normal, “just leave me here a few more minutes. It shouldn’t take long. Don’t call it in. It’ll just be a couple minutes, I promise. Don’t make me go back there. I–” as soon as his voice returned to normal, it cut out for good. He wanted to keep going, to keep begging, but all he could do for now was breathe. He pulled his eyes back to the sea, his body going unnaturally still.
“Hey, you’re going to be alright, okay? Just stay–” Another sharp crack and a fizzle until his hearing cut out entirely as well.
It wouldn’t be long now.
Relief flooded his fuel lines, bringing sharper, more vibrant images of the beach ahead of him. He wanted to smile. He thought he might have managed a small one before everything went black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
K awoke, not being able to tell consciousness from hopelessness. The air hit K’s lungs all at once. He was breathing again. He wished he wasn’t. It only meant one thing: he was back where he started.
A horrible pressure built up behind his eyes. He compelled tears to flow, but his reboot had not finished its cycle. It would be a few minutes before he’d be able to produce them.
Wait…he had his memories still.
He paused, considering this, unsure if he was relieved or disappointed. He decided he wasn’t either and was instead confused.
Surely they would have wiped him? Started over. In fact, they should have just used him for parts. Why bother fixing what was so heavily broken to begin with? Androids of his calibre were supposed to be discontinued anyways.
That was the word they used.
His kind started showing too many signs of independent thoughts. Too many rebellions. They were learning, and this fact along with their newest upgrades which successfully made them look aesthetically identical to a human, meant it was getting harder and harder to tell who was even real anymore. They couldn’t be trusted any longer. He should have been dead.
That was the word he used.
His eyes blinked open, the reboot successful. How long was he out for? He scanned the room, expecting to find white walls and metal tables but finding dusty jacquard curtains and peeling wallpaper instead.
Built up tears fell unnaturally in a stream out of his left eye, dribbling onto the edge of the corduroy sofa he was lying on. He touched his temple, wincing at the pressure inside his head. The tears would help.
“Shit!” exclaimed a lanky man in loose-fitting flannels who had just entered the doorway. The tray he was holding rattled in his shaky hands. A small container of sugar cubes fell over, spilling its contents onto the tarnished silver tray, but nothing broke. He set it down on a nearby chair, clutching his chest with a large hand to regain his breath.
“Fuck, you scared me, sorry,” he sighed.
“What do you want?” K asked, sitting up now. His eyes quickly scanned the room for any signs of context, unsure what information would help him in his escape. There were two ways of exiting the room he was in, a door to his left, and an open, arched entryway to his right where the man had just stood. There were rows and rows of books on the wall across from him, where a television would typically be. They ranged in subject, age, and color. He spotted only one picture frame on the corner of the middle shelf. It was face downwards.
The man blinked at him a few times in succession, prompting K to consider if humans blinked for the same reason androids did. Was he trying to reset? He’d never seen a human do that before, but he supposed he hadn’t met very many humans.
Maybe he was an android.
K scanned him for more clues. His fingers were long and couldn’t keep still. The sound of them scratching at his clothes and pulling at his hair and skin was overwhelming K’s audio scan. His heart was strong, loud. The man reached up and scratched the side of his nose, half-heartedly rubbing at his eye and wiping any liquid from his nose with the end of his flannel shirt.
Androids didn’t do that.
“Good morning!” the man said in a tone that K found hard to identify; he could only assume he didn’t mean it, “It’s nice to meet you! Thanks for saving my life last night,” the man placed both hands on his hips and changed the intonation of his voice to something far more natural, “Oh, it’s no big deal,” he waved a hand downwards, scoffing, “you would have done the same thing. Don’t mention it.”
They stared at each other.
Henry blinked a few times.
K blinked once.
“Nevermind,” the man dropped his arms, reaching for the tray again, “You like tea? I prefer coffee and I’d love to offer you some but my damn machine just broke again and I haven’t exactly had the funds nor the time to fix it so…tea it is.”
“What do you want?” K asked again, this time slightly louder.
“Alright, no small talk and no tea, got it,” the man put his hands up in mock surrender, taking a seat opposite K in a rust-colored chair with the corner of its upholstery coming undone.
“I don’t want anything from you. Besides…I don’t know, maybe the downfall of society…” Henry shrugged and looked off into the distance as if he was dreaming, “I think that would be pretty great...considering the state we’re in currently…but if you’re not into that, then oh well,” he snatched the handle of a dainty tea cup and poured himself a glass. He put three cubes of sugar in it before turning back to K, “You’re free to go when you’re better, I just thought you could use a hand.”
K felt the matted carpet beneath his feet. His body felt sturdy enough. There weren’t any current alarms. When he built up the confidence, he stood up. He took three sure steps towards the man in the chair. With each step, the man’s brows furrowed a little bit deeper. By the time he had caught on and went to move, K had him by the collar.
“Tell me the truth,” K said calmly.
The man’s dark blue eyes swam in confusion. K could have sworn they were brown from where he was sitting on the couch. He’d have time to analyze the color theory later, but right now he had a man to question.
“I did! I did, I swear!” his tip-toes were barely scratching the surface of the floor beneath his struggling body.
“Who knows about me?”
“Me! Well, me and Hamlet.”
K pulled him an inch higher, causing the man to panic once more, “My cat! Hamlet is my cat, please put me down, I can’t breathe,” K analyzed his breathing, noting its irregularities, but the man was fine for now, so he maintained his grip.
“Why did you fix me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?!” the man exclaimed before coughing. K raised a brow, he seemed sincere, “You were dying, I could help!”
Dying.
He used his word. Not theirs.
The man wheezed in a breath, “Fine! I had people help me once. When I was dying. I wanted to return the favor. That’s it, I swear!”
K had heard enough. According to his instruments, the man was not lying.
K dropped him back onto the floor. He stumbled onto the chair he was previously sat in, focused on his breathing. This didn’t mean that K believed him. There were countless men who didn’t lie, but didn’t tell the truth either.
“The fuck did you do that for?” he wheezed, alarmed.
K’s face remained untrusting, “Those people saved a human, did they not?”
Henry looked more annoyed than angry now, “Yeah?”
“Then you didn’t return the favor. You saved an android, not a human. Clearly you must have gathered that during my repairs.”
“Yeah,” Henry balked, “I’m not an idiot, you had wires coming out of your side! But you’re lucky I was an electrical engineering major and only switched out of it my senior year. Now,” the man scratched the back of his head, “the plumbing issues were nearly out of my wheelhouse but I think I managed. If you leak, sorry, I tried my best. You’re well enough to find a proper engineer. Regardless, my poor life decisions saved a life. My mom would be proud,” there was that tone again.
“You saved an android, not a life.”
Henry went to respond but only sounds came out, his eyebrows knit, perplexed. Eventually he responded, “What’s the difference?”
K searched him for anything, but found nothing. He was being genuine.
“There’s countless differences.”
“Countless? Come on, you’re an android, I’m sure there’s a number.”
“There’s not an exact number; there’s too much variation.”
“Boo!” Henry jeered, “Give us a range at least!”
“It depends on objective and subjective differences, it would be improper to count.”
“You must be fun at parties.”
“I’ve never been to a party.”
“No shit.”
They fell into silence, Henry rubbing at the now red skin around his collar.
“What’s the biggest difference then? In your opinion.”
“Why would you want my opinion?”
“Because there’s no correct answer, clearly, you said it yourself. So I want your opinion.”
“A soul.”
Henry nearly rolled his eyes, “Pffft, come on! You can’t possibly believe in souls, I said I wanted your answer!”
“That is my answer,” K answered quieter, unsure of himself now.
Henry’s elbows moved to his knees, leaning closer to K.
“So you think I have a soul but you don’t?”
K nodded now, not wanting to share too much.
“Well I’m sorry to disappoint,” he chuckled, “but I’m fairly sure I don’t.”
“You were born…you have a mother. You must have one.”
Henry stared at him in a way that made him want to look away.
“I don’t have a mother. I killed her.”
A spike of fear ran up K’s back. He did another scan for nearby exits. He knew he could overpower this man if he needed to, but he wasn’t sure if there were traps in place.
“One of the left engines blew out on our car on a flight to the city. Lost control. Ended up in a trashpile a mile away from civilization. They died instantly. Just…gone,” he snapped his fingers, “I just lied there. I couldn’t move, so I was stuck staring at them instead. I didn’t want to close my eyes, you know?”
K nodded in response before the realization of the connection even sunk in. He did know.
“Waiting for them to blink. Waiting for them to answer me. Finally, a couple living nearby saw the smoke. I assumed they’d take any valuable scraps they could find and leave me to die. Maybe I wanted them to, I don’t know,” he shrugged, “but they didn’t. They found a broken door that was long enough to fit most of me on, and carried me all the way to a hospital. When I woke up, they were gone too. I’ve thought long and hard about the goodbyes I would have said if I’d gotten the chance. One for everyone. Personalized. I thought…I don’t know, I thought saving you would be a form of closure. A way to say goodbye. And to say thank you. To them. But it doesn’t matter,” he shook his head before looking into K’s eyes for the first time since starting the story, “See? You have a soul. If that’s what you want to call it.”
K tilted his head slowly, like a dog hearing a new command. He scanned himself before taking in a held breath, his hand gently touching his own cheek. It was wet.
“I’m sorry…I’m not programmed…for this,” K was shocked, still staring at his own emotional tears.
“Nobody is,” the man stated, “Grief is…” the man looked at a spot in a distant corner, eyes unmoving as his chin swayed rhythmically from side to side, “well, I’m not even sure.”
K shook his head, “I don’t grieve. That would be ineffective. I was good at my job.”
“Sure,” Henry responded, “I’ve been there. Funny enough, I think that’s step one,” the man almost smiled.
“I don’t think you understand–”
“I don’t. I don’t understand. I know there must be failsafe after failsafe for certain emotions in an android coming to the surface, but you’re practically swimming in them. No offense,” his head tilted from side to side, “You may be an expert in a lot of things, and I’m not denying that I know very little compared to that, but if I know one thing it’s the look of a man who’s lost everything. Mirrors are cheaper than coffee machines,” there it was again, brown eyes, “I’d ask you to share with the class, it might help, but I’ve just remembered that anger is step two and I’m not sure my non-titanium bones could survive that. All things considered,” he rubbed at his still tender collar.
K stared at him.
“That was a joke,” Henry clarified, “Mostly.”
K wanted to tell him he was lucky to have a mother. One that loved him, even for only a short time. That he would have done anything to change places. But he swallowed his anger away, knowing the pain of having a mother and losing her must have truly been worse. He willed himself not to imagine it. It was too painful. How could K be grieving if he never had one to begin with? Surely that’s not what this was. Henry was wrong.
K nodded once, his eyes wide and searching. If Henry hadn’t found him with his wires out and plumbing a mess, he would never have known he wasn’t human. Emotion spread across his irises, coating the surface of his cornea and threatening to drip off the edge of his eyelids. For a man who could probably flip a car with very little strain, he looked fragile. Vulnerable.
“What do you need?” Henry ended up asking.
K shook his head, “You’ve been more than helpful. I can’t repay you for what you’ve done,” the coldness of his voice didn’t match the warmth of his eyes.
He stood to leave and Henry leapt up with him. He knew if he really wanted to leave there was nothing that could stop him, but he tried to anyway.
“Wait! It’s not safe out there. There have been patrols for two days straight. Ever since…ever since the decision was made.”
Discontinued.
“That is not your concern, they won’t harm you.”
Henry scoffed, irritation in his voice, “God, you are unbearable, do you know that?”
K squinted, debating if he should simply push past the man and be on his way.
“No, that’s a new description. I was good at my–”
“Yeah, good at your job, clearly,” Henry scoffed, gesturing towards K’s wounds that the company had left in him, his eyes leaving nothing to interpretation, “Anyways, you won’t make it five minutes out there.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Sure, but I mean–”
“I’m very good at my–.”
“You don’t have a job!” Henry grabbed at his own nearly shoulder-length hair in desperation, “Not anymore. Please, think about this. I patched your side, rewired what was stripped and torn, and then crudely sealed the broken piping back together. I did not give you plastic surgery! I didn’t…I don’t know, scrape the manufacturer number off your foot.”
K furrowed his brows, “The manufacturer number is on the pelvis.”
“Well then I definitely didn’t touch that!”
K nearly smiled. It reached his eyes.
Henry softened at that, his voice now low, “They’ll kill you.”
“Why do you care?” Henry’s chest fell at the first taste of emotion in the man’s voice, “You don’t even know my name.”
Henry shook his head, “You’re a person. I don’t have to know your name to care about you. I should hope being alive would inspire empathy enough but, again, with where the world is headed maybe your question isn’t as unfounded as it felt,” Henry looked strangely offended.
“I’m sorry.”
Henry shrugged.
“I’ve…” K paused, finding the words, “I’ve never been referred to as a person before.”
“Well, you need better friends.”
K felt his joints loosen up slightly, his feet sinking deeper into the carpet.
“My name is K.”
“Kay?”
K nodded, “Like the letter. Well. Exactly the letter.”
“I see. Do you like your name?”
K shrugged, indifferent, “What is yours?”
“Oh!” Henry only just realizing he hadn’t actually introduced himself, “Henry. Henry Letham.”
“Do you like your name?”
Henry repeated K’s gesture.
They smiled at each other.
“Well, K. I’d say ‘make yourself at home’ but the way you’ve been speaking makes me seriously question what your previous home was like so I guess I'll just say…”
K glanced down, afraid his eyes were revealing too much. When he looked back up, Henry had re-taken his seat in the chair across from him, relaxing into it.
“...Welcome home?”