Chapter Text
TestCyberlet CodeCyberlet {
serialVersion = #313 248 317-51
}
protected void encryption CodeCyberlet request,
}
response
= verified
}
protected void datasecurity check CodeCyberlet request,
}
response
= verified
}
protected void systemsecurity update CodeCyberlet request,
}
response
= verified
protected void system query Codecyberlet request,
}
query
= mission
}
response
= unable to local data file
}
response
= error
}
response
= static void
}
protected void system query Codecyberlet request,
}
query
= purpose
}
response
= unable to local data file
}
response
= error
}
response
= static void
}
Purpose. Pur*pose. Noun. 'The reason for which something is done or created or for which something exists.'
And which Connor now had none of.
When Connor was created, his sole purpose had been to investigate and eliminate deviant androids. He had broken out of his programming in defiance of his creator and had become deviant himself. He had liberated thousands of androids in the Cyberlife facility as a means of helping Markus in his quest to achieve true android freedom. He had broken all of his coding and programming. And now he was lost, left without a purpose.
He shouldn't even be here now. He had failed in every conceivable way to accomplish his mission. If this had been under normal circumstances, Cyberlife would have recalled his version of RK800 back to their headquarters and run a thorough diagnostic on him, identified flaws in his system and then rebooted him with any necessary upgrades. He had run his own diagnostics shortly after he had broken through his programming, expecting to find an error, anomaly, or corruption to his framework. He had been shocked and surprised when all read outs came back normal. That in itself was unusual. Not the read outs, but the flutter of emotions that ran through him for the briefest of moments. He had never felt anything like that before. He felt.
That had been enough to send a wave of panic through him. He felt? It would have been overwhelming to be feeling for the first time but in that moment he was in the middle of fighting off the FBI agents aboard the Jericho. He compartmentalized his emotions and focused on the task at hand. He had felt relief when Markus had given him the task of infiltrating the Cyberlife facility. He had a renewed sense of purpose and it burned brightly within him.
Even after successfully completing his task of liberating the thousands of new androids from Cyberlife storage facility, Connor's fight for his own freedom wasn't over. Amanda, Cyberlife's primary compliance and program enforcement software had attempted to regain control of his mind palace. Who would have thought that Kamski had actually built in a backdoor so that androids - his creations - could jail-break their software, so to speak.
And now, after all of that... Connor was left without a purpose. What a horrible, empty feeling that was.
At the moment, he was sitting in a chair next to Lieutenant Hank Anderson's desk at the Detroit City Police Department. It was less than 24 hours since Markus had made his final stand against the Joint FBI-Federal Forces and come out victorious. Even though Markus had lead peaceful protests and demonstrations, there was still a high level of uncertainty and tension among the general human population. Hank had been required to report back to Captain Fowler as soon as he returned to the precinct and Connor had accompanied him in order to give a first-hand testimony and provide a data-dump of all his case analysis back to the Detroit City Police Department before... before what? He wasn't going back to Cyberlife, couldn't go back... not after they had tried to hijack his software, not after he had betrayed them.
He sat in the chair next to Lieutenant Anderson's desk, back straight, hands clasped in his lap.
Connor didn't have a purpose. Connor didn't have a clue what to do next.
He glanced up when he registered Hank leaving Captain Fowler's office. He looked tired - exhausted even - but as the older man settled into his chair, Hank smiled across his desk at the android.
Connor blinked back at him, an odd feeling of confusion crawling under his artificial skin.
Connor felt startled for a millisecond when Hank burst into laughter. The gray-haired man rose from his desk and dropped a heavy hand to Connor's shoulder.
"Come on," he chuckled. "I need a drink."
Connor rose without question and followed Lieutenant Anderson out of the precinct.
Snow was falling softly outside and the world seems quieter, more peaceful somehow. Connor walked behind Hank, his eyes drifting up until he stopped and just stared up into the sky. The snow drifted slowly around him, small frozen flakes landing in his hair, on his skin, in his eyelashes.
"What the hell are you -"
He sensed Hank looking back at him, but Connor kept is gaze turned to the sky. His eyes followed the snow, his software kicking in and trying to analyze the fall for a pattern. But there wasn't one. It was controlled chaos, no two flakes the same, no two following the same pattern as they drifted lazily from the gray skies above, to land on the cold ground below in a blanket of crystal light.
"It's beautiful," he heard himself whisper.
He and Hank stood silently side-by-side for a while. The world seems to shrink and close in until there wasn't anything else expect for Connor and the Lieutenant and the snow. Four minutes and 34 seconds passed before Hank moved, gently placing his hand on Connor's back with a soft 'Come on, kid," and guiding him down the street toward the neon glow of a bar.
Hank lead Connor inside Jimmy's Bar, despite a 'No Androids' sign posted on the front door. The older man shook his head as he removed his coat, droplets of melted snow dancing away. Hank ran a large hand through his shaggy hair before tilting his head toward the bar.
"Come on, Connor. Let's have a drink."
"I don't -"
"Yeah, yeah, I know, just come and sit with me so I'm not drinking alone then."
Hank settled onto a bar stool and nodded to the bartender. "Whiskey, neat," he ordered.
Connor sat beside on the stool beside Hank and place his hands on the bar top.
The television in the corner was on a local news station and a panel was discussing Markus' march.
Hank glanced up as one of the commentators began to rant about the android's ridiculous bid for freedom. "Lewis, will you shut that shit off?" Hank grumbled, taking a sip of his whiskey. "I think the game is on anyway."
The bartender nodded and changed the channel.
Connor stared at his hands, still firmly planted on the wooden surface in front of him.
Hank pulled a packet of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and tapped it on his leg.
Connor glanced down at the small paper package, his analysis software immediately kicking in to provide a diagnostic of the cigarettes.
Lieutenant Anderson realized what Connor was looking at as he pulled the thin roll of tobacco from the packaging and stuck it between his teeth. "Don't you fuckin' say it," Hank muttered through clenched teeth as he struck a match and lit his cigarette.
Connor blinked at him. "Say what?" he inquired.
Hank took a deep drag from his cigarette and blew a thin line of smoke from his lips. He rolled the cigarette between his fingers, examining it for a moment before glancing back at Connor.
"You know what - the statistics, the whole cancer bullshit, blah, blah, blah, I've heard it all, I don't need to hear it from you too."
Connor returned his gaze to his hands. He sat silently beside the Lieutenant as he sipped at his whiskey and smoked. The television droned on about the hockey game, providing audio commentary to the visual game.
After 23 minutes had passed in relative silence, Hank turned toward Connor. His brow wrinkled slightly as he examined the android. Connor turned toward Hank in response, tilting his head curiously.
"Are you okay?" Hank finally asked, with a sincerity that went straight to Connor's heart, so to speak.
Connor nodded slowly. "Yes, my systems are operating efficiently. I do not show any signs that Cyberlife has attempted to hijack my operation systems again."
"I-" Hank stared at Connor for a moment. "Well, I mean, yeah, that's good. But I meant... are you feeling alright?"
Connor felt himself frown as he considered the question. "I... I'm not sure," he answered truthfully. "Everything has happened so quickly, so much has changed. I must admit, Lieutenant, that I am feeling a bit... lost at the moment."
"Lost?"
"Yes. I no longer have a primary objective. My sole purpose was to assist the Detroit City Police Department in cases involving deviant androids. Without directives from Cyberlife... I am at a loss for what to do."
Hank barked out in laughter. "That's what you're worried about?" He chuckled as Connor observed him incredulously. "You keep doing what you have been doing," Hank explained, knocking back the rest of his second whiskey. "You'll continue to assist me with homicides. I have a shit-ton of cases we'll have to solve and close out. And I'll need my partner to help me with that."
"You want me to be your partner?"
Hank rolled his eyes. "You are my partner. Jesus - Just because you broke away from Cyberlife doesn't mean I've given up on you. In fact, you being independent from Cyberlife makes me want you as my partner even more."
Connor was trying to keep up with the Lieutenant. Working for the Detroit City Police Department would fit in well with Connor's original software design. He already had almost a year's worth of uploaded data to refer to from the 50 previous versions of RK800s that had come before him.
"Ok," Connor replied hesitantly.
"Great," Hank said, shoving his empty glass across the counter. He stood up and stretched, rolling his right shoulder stiffly. "Let's go home."
"Home?"
"Yeah. You can stay with me. I've got a spare room, or couch or... do you sleep?" Hank asked, his heavy hand resting on Connor's shoulder.
"I don't sleep as humans do," Connor explained, "but I can imitate a sleep cycle and run diagnostics and software upgrades during those hours."
"Huh," Hank grunted. "Alright, well, come on. Sumo's waiting for us."