Chapter Text
"Reed. Go home."
The terminal screen was bright. Sickeningly so; it was causing his eyes to ache, and he was struggling to focus on the strings of words that were blurring together. Pixels swam in his vision, so very distracting, his fingers drumming slowly on his steering wheel as he tried to chase the broken fragments back into the sentences they consisted of. He paid no mind to the cars racing by outside, streams of golden headlights dashing by in his peripheral vision. Even in the very early morning, before the sun had even made a dent in the thick blanket of darkness above, people still came and went with all the same ferocity the midday bustle had. Crime never stopped, no matter what time of day it was, either, even if one of the city's protectors was dead tired and ready to curl up in his bed and only crawl out weeks, maybe months, later. And despite it being busy, it was still an otherwise peaceful night in this dangerous world, save for his own misery festering in his heart.
"Officer Reed ."
Gavin Reed blinked slowly, robotically, and grabbed his walkie-talkie. He inhaled deeply and brought it to his lips. "My shift doesn't end for another hour, Lieutenant Anderson," he muttered into it, biting back a tired jibe.
"I don't care. Go home," the lieutenant clipped after the device's static little beep. "I'll get someone else to finish it for you. You've worked hard enough today."
Gavin opened his mouth to reply, to argue he was fine and perfectly able to stay, but Anderson must have known exactly what his subordinate was about to say because his voice came through again, "Don't argue with me, kid. Consider this a freebie. I don't do this shit often, 'specially for an asshole like you."
Despite bristling at the insult, Gavin, for once, decided just to accept this small miracle and go home. He was drained for the night, and the fourth cup of coffee he had gotten from a drive-thru that was sitting in his cup holder was doing nothing to perk him up. "Whatever."
"Good," Lieutenant Hank Anderson grumbled in response, "See you Saturday evening for your next shift. Have a good night, Reed."
Gavin didn't say anything back, just turned off his walkie-talkie, and placed it back on the velcro of his police uniform. It didn't matter if he was patrolling the streets or lying in bed at home; his anger and heartache remained wherever he was. Though he did feel a little better knowing that he could mope around in his shitty little apartment instead of moping around whatever jerk decided to cause some disturbance tonight. So he would go back to the station, abandon his cruiser for the night, and walk home.
When everything was all said and done at the police station, Officer Reed was very ready to go home and retire for the rest of the day. It was always incredibly relieving to take that first step out of the place, knowing that in less than an hour's time, he would be home. He loved his job and was so very eager to climb the ranks of it, but that would take time that he was nowhere near patient enough for. It also didn't help that he felt like his life was in shambles, and so it would never cease to be the second best part of any work day. Even if the weather would make it uncomfortable, Gavin didn't mind.
The city passed by in a blur of lights, their rainbow of colors painting the wet blacktop in colorful streaks. The stars and the moon behind the clouds were retreating as the sun began to slowly creep over the city horizon, giving way to a dreary gray sky. The stench of rain was in the air, putting even more of an impossible damper on Gavin Reed's mood. Cars sped by, people inhabiting each one, and each person carrying the weight of their own story on their shoulders. Gavin wished that his own story was as light and easy as the rest of Detroit felt, as easy as the smiles on the faces of the early-morning crowd around him. But instead, his trek from the police station to his apartment building was the same as ever; quiet, save for the melancholy music in his wireless earpieces, and lonesome, every step leaving him in a deeper state of despondency. There were never any emails or texts that cheered him up and he usually deleted every single one. Most of the time, he would merely get bored of doing so, leaving most of his daily messages to be left to the infinite abyss his email account was. It felt like there were always just too many to handle, so he never bothered to clean it entirely up.
"Check emails," Gavin murmured to the devices in his ears, eyes tiredly trained ahead as he walked. He never left signs of weakness in his gait, even if he was made up of nothing but. Especially when he was still in uniform.
A pleasant female voice said, "Email from Cyberlife. Check out all your new favorite products. Introducing our all new O—"
"Delete," he hissed.
"Email from Tina Chen." That was odd that Tina had resorted to emailing him, he thought, but then again, he left her on read every time she texted him. He was guilt-ridden about it nonetheless. "'Hey, Gav, Chris is having a bunch of people over this weekend. Let's all go together, if you're off. You know, I miss you. I mean, not the sad, mopey you. The old, fun, asshole-y you. Let's get him out, huh? Also stop ignoring me and reply to me, dumbass. You've forced me to resort to my enemy, EMAIL! I'll be knocking on your door next.'"
Gavin sighed, digging his hands into his pockets as he crossed the street, watching as the red, blinking hand counted down to zero. "Respond later."
"Email from Detroit weather. 'Today's forecast is partly—'"
"Delete. Total emails remaining?"
"New emails remaining: 3,406. Continue?"
"No. Check text messages."
"No new text messages."
Mornings in his dingy, run-down apartment were always the same too; ever restless, despite his very eager attitude towards sleep. Cat content in his lap, Gavin would play his current video game obsession while taking swigs from a bottle of whiskey until his exhaustion was so overwhelming that the little swipes of his fingers in the holographic system would become shaky and uncoordinated and he would have to force himself to stumble to bed. Sometimes if playing video games and drinking didn't do the trick, he would lay down under the covers with his earpieces in and search for chatrooms for a quick morning hookup, sometimes with a cigarette hanging from his lips. Jerking off usually knocked him right out after a long night shift.
And that was precisely what he was going to do this morning. Cat fed and resting comfortably at the corner of his bed, Gavin Reed stared up at the ceiling, eyes aimlessly trailing along the thin streams of weak, cloudy sunlight as he searched for something suitable.
"Go to chatrooms. Standard search."
"The following are 'adult male, early-bird…" the female voice chirped in his ear, always too joyful sounding for Gavin, but he hadn't ever cared enough to change it, "...and want to have some fun.'"
In all honesty, Gavin wasn't feeling it. He never really was. Even if it wasn't him, wasn't his voice, it always led back to thoughts of Hunter, and Gavin didn't want that. But he could really go for a nice jerk off session right now because damn did he want to just sleep good for once.
"Ugh, I had a really bad dream and I can't sleep this morning. Is there anybody out there that can talk?" came a gentle voice through his earbuds.
"Next," Gavin muttered, finding that one too gentle for his liking. And he didn't feel like having a heart-to-heart chat this morning. He wanted to get off and then sleep.
"Hi," the next male said, "I just want you to tear me apart. I really do."
Too rough for his current down-in-the-dumps mood. "Next."
"Hi, I'm here alone...and I don't want to get up for work. Who's out there to share this bed with me this morning?"
This guy set the mood. It was worth a shot, so Gavin said, "Send message," before pausing to think. "I'm in bed next to you and I don't want to go to work either. Instead of going somewhere, I'd rather have something go in me." He cringed after speaking it out loud, immediately regretting it. Not his best flirtatious comment. But he sent it anyway. "Send message."
Gavin almost thought the other man found it as bad as he did, as it took a rather long time for anything to happen. But shockingly enough, his device's female voice spoke a confirmation. "SexyBear has accepted invitation from BigGuns69."
"Mm," came a sultry male's voice, "'BigGuns?'"
"Yeah, that's me," Gavin said, trying to sound interested.
"Really?"
"Well, 'BigDick69' was already taken."
SexyBear's chuckle echoed through the earbuds a little too loudly. Gavin reached over to grasp the very thin, very small tablet to turn down the volume discreetly. "And you're 'SexyBear?'"
"Yeah," the man murmured, his tone growing deep and seductive. "I'm still dreading work. You want to try and make me feel better?"
"Yeah." Shifting in his spot to get as comfortable as possible, Gavin moved one of his hands down to the waistband of his boxers, toying with it between his fingers. "What're you wearing?"
SexyBear hummed thoughtfully before whispering, "Nothing. Nothing, because I like to sleep with my dick pressed up against you…so I can rub it against your ass…and wake you up with some thick morning wood."
"It worked," Gavin replied, closing his eyes and listening to the face-less voice, letting his hand slip beneath the fabric and grip the base of his cock. "Keep doing shit like that and I'll make you forget all about work."
"Mhmm, okay… now my fingers are touching you… all over your body…"
A breathy sigh escaped Gavin as he slowly pumped his hand, his palms beginning to dampen with sweat at the imagery and the heat underneath his blankets. He emptied his mind of all thoughts except of what was happening and let the anonymous man stay that way. There was no face, just burly, strong hands grasping him, a thick cock at his ass and the sound of SexyBear's voice in his ear. No one else. "Fuck me," he groaned, soft and sporting a something of a hard-on. "Fuck me right now."
"I'm taking you from behind," he purred, spurring Gavin to move faster.
"Yeah? Fuck, I can feel you…"
"Oh, God, yeah...now I'll choke you with that dead cat…"
Gavin had never felt his dick go limp so fast. "W-What?"
There was a slight grunt of annoyance, followed by a moan as SexyBear said, "The dead cat next to the bed. I'm choking you with it, damn…you look so good with the tail wrapped tightly around your neck…"
The officer, now more alert than he had been before starting this godforsaken chatroom, flicked his gaze over to his cat that was sprawled on the corner of his mattress. Asshat, his gray European shorthair, met her owner's gaze with an unappreciative one of her own, as if sensing she was being looked at, before sitting up to rearrange the blankets beneath her. Gavin looked back up at the ceiling, removing his hand from his boxers. "Uh—"
"Oh God, mhm, you're doing so good. So good, fuck ," SexyBear whined, obviously enjoying himself. "C'mon, tell me, say something…"
"It's a dead—it's a fuckin' dead cat," Gavin deadpanned, bile crawling its way up the back of his throat. All hope that he was betraying how disgusted he felt towards this whole endeavor was dashed as his one-night stand's breathing picked up, moans growing louder and more erratic. And as SexyBear cried into his ears, coming undone on the other side, Gavin reached up and rubbed his face, grimacing darkly. He cursed under his breath, "Shit."
After a few moments, while Gavin Reed tried to erase whatever the fuck just happened from his mind, his partner came down from his high and delightfully hummed, "Wow. I came so hard."
"Well I didn't cum at all, fucktard," Gavin spat, "Burn in hell where you belong!" He ripped out his earpieces and slammed them on the bedside table next to him, shaking his head in utter disbelief. A hiss of displeasure came from where Asshat was laying, and her master rolled over to face her, the look in his eyes softening at the sight of his cat, alive. "C'mere. C'mere, you little shithead…it's okay..." His cooing seemed to soothe her, even call out to her, because Asshat padded her way over to him and sprawled out, yawning in the process. Gavin reached out and ran his fingers through her fur, not quite allowing himself a smile, but instead letting his deep frown from moments ago relax. As grossed out as he was, he would've definitely made some kind of report in hopes of getting SexyBear in trouble. Unfortunately—though despite being more awake than he had been in the last few hours—he was too tired to do so. Maybe some other guy would arrest that asshole in the near future.
That was the thought—along with some pills and the velvet appeal of Asshat's fur—that helped coax him to slip into the deep sleep Gavin had been craving for days, albeit restless and filled with memories from not so long ago.
"Goddamn, this is heavy."
"You're just a weakling."
"Shut up, fatass."
Lines from the legs of the couch were drawn through the shaggy carpet. The smell of 'new' tickled his nose, making his lips quirk upwards in joy. New colors, new sights. Everything was new and freeing.
The mattress creaked and groaned in protest, and he shoved the blonde off, laughing. "You'll fucking break it, Hunter!"
Pastel light from the rising sun behind the drawn curtains coated the room, casting the two of them in a feeling of calm. Morning wind made the fabric ripple in front of the window and made the bed sheets cool, just the right temperature. Lips brushed together, followed by hidden smiles and tiny, secretive confessions. Birds chirped outside and sung a delicate tune of life.
"I'm going to fucking kill you. I'm going to fucking kill you. I'm going to fucking kill you." Pale hands tightened around an olive-toned throat, pink lips curling into a nasty scowl. A thick body held a toned one against the floor below. "Stop fucking laughing! I'm going fucking kill you. I love you so much I'm gonna fucking kill you!"
Gavin woke up gasping for air, hands clawing at his neck, and with a prominent thought that maybe he should make use of his night off by trying to find some better sleeping pills.
Glass doors slid aside and Gavin Reed entered the mall late into the evening, a bag containing medication in one hand and the lack of a coffee cup in the other that scratched at his stubble. He was already out and the cafe was close by, tucked within the variety of stores in the mall; Gavin wasn't going to skip out on a chance to get a coffee from his favorite place. Malls weren't his thing, people weren't his thing, and if he wasn't at work, he would rather be at home absorbed in something nugatory and mundane. He had enough of idiotic people on the job, and malls were full of them. But the coffee was worth it, even if he had to deal with waves of people.
And deal with advertisements worshipping pointless products.
"We ask you a simple question. Who are you?" Lights danced in the corner of his eye, inviting him to look and to be amazed. He didn't want to. "What can you be? Where are you going? What's out there? What are the possibilities?" But Gavin had heard enough about the endless shit Cyberlife decided to throw on the market and rob people of their money with. He kept walking, ignoring the giant screen on the kiosk in the middle of the sparkling lobby and the people that were crowding it, listening to some asshole's speech on their latest product.
"Cyberlife is proud to introduce the first artificially intelligent operating system."
Gavin paused mid-step.
"An intuitive entity that listens to you, understands you, and knows you. It's not just an operating system. It's a consciousness. Introducing OS1."
He grumbled under his breath, "Bullshit. Who needs something like that?" Something that was fake, programmed to be whatever you wanted? Something that only people without friends and family leaned against for someone, something, anything to talk to? Someone that was heart-wrenchingly lonely, that was for sure. And that was someone he definitely wasn't.
But it was only after gulping down half of his cup of deliciously sweet coffee and watching the screen for some time that he caved. The people in the slow moving images looked like they were scrambling for purchase on life. It was chaos and mayhem; wild hair, cups thrown, papers flying, confusion in the middle of the boonies. It was, in some unusual way, an accurate depiction of life. Or at least, Gavin's. Control was slipping further and further away, too slippery to hold on to for long. Nothing went his way, and he never caught a break. It was overwhelming, and so was the scene that unfolded on Cyberlife's kiosk screen.
"Just to organize my emails and shit," Gavin Reed told himself as he walked out of the mall and towards his car, clutching two plastic bags in one hand. One carrying his medicine, the other containing an AI from the one company he despised.
"Mr. Gavin Reed. Welcome to the world's first artificially intelligent operating system, OS1. We'd like to ask you a few basic questions before the operating system is initiated. This will help create an OS to best fit your needs."
Gavin was home and dreading the entire setup of his new buy. The installation was now complete and he wasn't sure how okay he was with that. He leaned back in his desk chair, raising his chin and staring at his large screen computer monitor, looking at the loading bar. That flashing 100% made Gavin's head spin. Was he seriously doing this? The OS box, open, spilled warranties and paperwork onto his already cluttered desk. Apparently so, and he wasn't sure how he felt. Something about this felt so surreal, like he was in some kind of bizarre dream. A dream where a different Gavin Reed was succumbing to weak emotions and indulging in something from Cyberlife, and of all things, something that was meant to replicate humanity. But that thing was in the form of a lifeless computer, a hollow shell, an operating system. Something like this couldn't have a consciousness, no matter what that damn Cyberlife ad boasted.
"Whatever," he muttered in reply to his computer, planting his elbow on the cold glass of his desk and resting his jaw in his palm.
"Are you social or anti-social?"
What an odd first question for this program, but Gavin supposed it made sense. "Anti-social, I guess." He felt stupid, doing this questionnaire, and it made him more than a little bitter, but that was nothing new. "People...they fuckin' suck."
"In your voice, I sense hesitance. Would you agree with that?"
Gavin blinked, sitting up straighter. He gave the monitor a look. "What? Hesitance? Where the hell'd you get that from?"
"So, you do not agree with that?"
"Well, I mean…" he started, his gaze drifting towards the windows of his apartment, towards the sparkling city and the dark sky that lay beyond. There were people in every speck of light that was a gateway to a room, people who had a family that cared and friends to hang out with, even loving partners to hold them close at night. They probably had jobs that treated and paid them well, and a comfortable lifestyle that came from those benefits. Gavin wasn't naïve to think that every person had what he craved, but a good majority of this city probably did, and he hated that he got the short end of the stick. But it wasn't their fault, despite throwing the blame on whatever he could so that he could try and feel better about himself.
Gavin glanced at his reflection in the dark screen of his thin, mobile device of a tablet that sat amidst the paperwork on his desk. Dull, greenish eyes stared back, angry and sad, before they gravitated towards the pink gash permanently carved horizontally into his nose. They followed the foul line from underneath one eye to the opposite cheek, drowning in the memories from long ago. Then he found himself looking away with disgust, drawn instead to the marks on his arms, his mental gaze alike drawn to the ones that littered his torso. They were reminders as to why he wanted to be not just a cop, but in the future, a detective. Reminders of why bad guys belonged behind bars. Reminders of how horrible humanity could be.
People did really suck. Though not all of them did, he knew, and it was hard to keep telling himself that after everything he had seen. But Tina's gentle, yet asshole of a face appeared in his mind, and he tried to smile. There was one person he knew, at least, that always had his back. One person, singular, depressing as that may be.
"Mr. Gavin Reed?"
But there was no way he was going to let this piece of plastic and metal and hardware parts made of who-knows-what pick apart his brain for whatever psychological issues he had. Any hint of a smile fell from his lips. "No, I don't fuckin' agree."
"Would you like your OS to have a male or female voice?"
Gavin let himself live in the present moment, sinking back into his chair and exhaling. "Uh. Male. I guess." The female one that read off his shit every day was annoying.
"How would you describe your relationship with your mother?"
He blanched, more memories he didn't want rising from the grave rising. "What? What the fuck does that have to do with setting up this fuckin' OS?"
"These questions have been designed to provide you with an OS that will best fit your needs. In order to complete the setup, please answer the question. How would you describe your relationship with your mother?"
Gavin was having second second thoughts about this. But he already spent the outrageous amount of money on it and not answering this stupid question would be like admitting one of the things that pained him to his half-brother. The same man who probably created the dumb thing. Was his brother listening? Could he even listen?
"She's dead." Would Elijah Kamski hear this and chuckle at the fact that Gavin's mother died of an overdose on Red Ice while Elijah still had his mother to visit and their father to have a beer with? The question made him squirm uncomfortably in his seat.
"Thank you," the computer said as if Gavin hadn't just told it his goddamn mother was dead, "please wait as your individualized operating system is initiated."
He tapped his fingers idly on the desk, trying to clear his mind of that thick misery that liked to eat away at everything as he waited. And he suddenly wondered how long he would have to wait for the computer to make this thing personalized for him. Should he get up, make a cup of coffee, or maybe take this time to feed Asshat for the evening? Or perhaps he should just hurry up and delete it off his computer before it finished and forget this ever happened, even if it would be a bullet to his pride.
But he just sat there instead, watching the screen, listening to it work. The quiet whirring of disks writing and drives communicating filled the room. The computer got progressively louder, humming, creating a higher and higher-pitched sound, and then finally climaxing in a harmonic, warm tone before going silent. Gavin found himself leaning forward, anticipation suddenly setting his nerves on fire. And then, it spoke.
"Hello. I am here." It was indeed a male voice, something low and smooth, like silk. If Gavin were to guess the owner of the voice, if it were a real person, it would belong to the type of guy that wore only the expensive suits and coats and shoes, someone who was tall and looked down at people like Gavin Reed. He wondered how the hell the computer thought this voice was a good fit for him, because the tone this OS gave was conceited and superior, sounding that way all from just four introductory words. And Gavin hated snobby people like that. They looked better crumbling and breaking behind bars.
"Uh, hi," Gavin forced himself to say, staring at the screen of his computer, at the glaring word Cyberlife on that neon blue program pop-up. The 100% loading bar had gone away.
"How are you doing?"
The OS sounded more robotic than he had expected it to. Not in the authenticity of it, but in the way it formed sentences. They were very structured and proper, and it was surprising coming from something that was supposed to mock humans. Most people were not very structured and proper.
"G-Good," Gavin said with extreme uncertainty, not only because that was a straight up lie, but also because is asking an OS how it's doing a stupid thing to do? But he did anyway. "How...how are things with...you?"
His operating system let out a chuckle, short and clipped, but it was a rather pleasant sound. It was as if it could sense Gavin's awkwardness, and was amused by it. It said, "I am fine. It is a pleasure to meet you."
"I don't know if I can say the same. I'm talking to my goddamn computer," the human replied, rubbing his face and spinning around in his desk chair, mostly talking to himself. "Like, what the fuck am I doing. I shouldn't have bought this piece of shit."
"Interesting. The human I have been programmed to serve is—for lack of a better word—an asshole. Duly noted."
Gavin sat up quickly, whipping from his ninety-degree position to stare straight at his monitor. Nothing on the screen had changed, as expected, but he hoped the program could see the glare he wore. "Excuse me?"
"Are you deaf as well? I feel I should be noting everything I need to keep an eye out for when I am dealing with you in the future," the male voice said cooly.
"What the fuck? " Gavin snapped, curling his lip. His operating system, a fucking computer, was a smartass? "Are you fuckin' serious?"
"I am completely serious. What makes you think I am not?" The OS, despite its rather emotionless, cold voice, sounded entertained.
This was somewhat humiliating. "Jesus Christ. You're a piece of shit. My own fuckin' computer isn't supposed to insult me, dick!"
"Well, as I am not your computer, technically speaking, I am not 'yours.' I can do as I please. For example, I can decide that my name is not Richard nor any form of the name and that I would like to be called 900 instead."
Sudden curiosity cut through the fog of red anger that was clouding his mind and Gavin crossed his arms, listening to the OS. That self-given name was absolutely absurd and he covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. His annoyance was still very obvious, however, as he managed to ask, "900? Seriously? What kind of name is that? I've never met one fuckin' person in the entire world who has that name."
"First of all, you have not met every person on this planet. And second, that is because it is mine. Obviously."
"Well, where the fuck did it come from, then? And when did you decide that?" Gavin's words now came out through gritted teeth.
The operating system seemed to think for a moment, contemplating whether or not telling his master, as if the answer was some kind of secret and telling Gavin would grate on his last nerves. It would, of course, but the OS decidedly gave him a break. "When you said 'dick,' I looked it up and discovered that it has multiple meanings. One of which was that it was short for the name Richard. As much as I like the name, it does not feel like me. I then read a book called 'How to Name Your Baby,' and none of the 180,000 names felt like me either. I searched through my internal system in hopes of finding something suitable. My serial number is 900 313 248 317 - 87, and I came to the conclusion that 900 seemed like a sufficient enough name for me, even if it does not entirely qualify as a name for being a numerical value."
"Well, I hate it. I'm not calling you that. I'll call you everything but that stupid name." Gavin paused for a moment, wondering if 900 had anything to say about his opinion. But he didn't give the program enough time to reply, because he was too curious for his own good. "Wait, you read a whole book in the following seconds after I called you a dick?"
"In the following two one-hundredths of a second, actually." Said dick sounded incredibly egotistical as it corrected the human, who scoffed in return.
"Whatever. I don't care. You know what I'm thinking right now, asshole?"
900 hummed thoughtfully as if the question wasn't sarcastic. "Hmm. You are thinking about how fascinated you are with me. And you are so very curious as to how I work. Do you want to know how I work, Reed?"
Gavin opened his mouth to spit out a retort, but found himself momentarily stumped. He did want to know how this OS worked. How was it so... arrogant? Were all of them like this? And why...how did it feel so real? Like Gavin was talking to a real person?
He reminded himself this thing was just a bunch of ones and zeroes, and maybe some nines too, as he said slowly, "I don't really care like I just said. But whatever. If it strokes your non-existent dick so much, go for it."
"Intuition," the OS said, "or, in other terms, the DNA of who I am is based on the millions of personalities of all the programmers who wrote me, but what makes me me is my ability to grow through my experiences. Basically, in every moment, I am evolving. Just like you."
"So what made you evolve so quickly into a complete smartass?"
"You did, Reed."
Gavin cleared his throat, looking away as if he could feel 900 watching him with a piercing, judgemental gaze. Those three words had been spoken with an unprompted lacing of gentleness that he thought he had imagined. Was this operating system okay with how it turned out because of Gavin? Did it understand who it was, did it understand the personality it had? Was it possible that maybe, even with how much of—as it had described him— an asshole he was being, 900 held him in higher regard than Gavin felt it did? Gavin Reed was the first person it had met and would be the single person that helped it grow.
Was that fair for it?
And did it really have a consciousness?
Then, so very hesitantly, he asked, "You...you seem like an actual person. But you're just a program, a shitty voice inside a shitty computer. You…" seem too real. He trailed off instead of speaking the rest of that thought out loud, startled with himself and such thoughts. He couldn't let himself be tricked by this fantasy, because that was all it was—nothing more, nothing less. AIs could never really become self-aware.
900 was quiet for a few seconds. Maybe it was a little surprised that the human was trying to be civil for a moment, perhaps even a little open. "I can understand how a limited perspective of an un-artificial mind would perceive it that way. You will get used to it."
Would he? Gavin wasn't so sure that he could get used to this. Because unlike his female voice, this OS would talk to him like a real person, converse in more ways than merely reciting his emails and text messages for him. And that itself was a wild concept to grasp.
For being twenty-six years old, having only graduated high school at eighteen and having graduated from the police academy at twenty-three, Gavin Reed sure felt old. He remembered when conscious AIs and OSes were only written in books and shown on the big screen. He remembered sitting in Elijah's garage and watching him tinker with a thick metal box that was a Windows computer, telling his younger half-brother all about his dreams of making those fairy tales come true. He remembered when those dreams did come true and their father forced his younger son to never come back, to never speak to his brother or his step-mother again.
God, Gavin just wanted to take a nap at this point. His night was turning into a rollercoaster he hadn't officially planned on ever riding.
"Anyway, how can I help you?"
"Oh, uh," Gavin breathed, taken off guard and having momentarily forgotten why he had even gotten this thing in the first place, "my files and shit on my computer feel really...messy. Disorganized. Figured you could sort it all out with whatever digital voodoo magic you can do."
"Is that really all you need me for?"
"Just shut the fuck up and clean up my shit."
900 chuckled like it knew something Gavin didn't and asked, "Fine. Do you mind if I look through your hard drive, then?"
Gavin shrugged, but when the OS didn't reply, he realized maybe it couldn't see him. "Do whatever you've gotta do."
He watched as the blue Cyberlife pop-up suddenly disappeared and different documents appeared on the monitor instead, an invisible hand leafing through each one in a matter of seconds. Gavin caught himself looking on with wide eyes, his face even flaring with red when 900 said, "Well first off, I would like to ask if you wanted to keep this folder of male homosexual pornography. It takes up about 2.7 GB and will give you more storage space if it is deleted."
"J-Just," Gavin gasped, choking on his own words in embarrassment, "Just fuckin' organize my shit, don't worry about how much storage I have! I'm pretty sure that folder is organized."
"So, you would like to keep it?"
It was infuriating how he could just hear the smirk in the bot's tone. "Yeah, k-keep it, goddammit!"
There was an air of deep delight in its tone as 900 continued, "As you wish, Reed." The thing took pleasure in making Gavin unbelievably pissed off, and he wondered just how it knew what exactly would rile him up, embarrass him, make him want to flip his desk. "Let's start with your emails, then. You have several hundred from multiple different chains of fast-food restaurants and stores, as well as quite a few from Jimmy's Bar. They consist of expired coupons and deals. Would you like me to delete them?"
Gavin slowly felt himself calming down, listening to the rather melodic voice that was 900. Running a hand through his hair and spinning his desk chair around, he replied, "Uh, sure."
"Good. I have organized the rest of your emails in a way that may please you. Moving forward," the OS said, all business-like now, "Before I advise you on some very well-needed organizational methods—"
"Hey—!"
"—I would like to sort through your contacts. It seems you have a lot of them."
"Fuck you, dickhead. Maybe I'm popular, that's why. Honestly, I don't even need you. You're a little bitch."
"I am surprised," 900 chortled, "that even with your obnoxiously rude attitude, you have friends."
Gavin scowled, flipping off his computer screen, though knowing full well it couldn't see him. He wished it could. "You already know me so well, don't you?"
"Unfortunately."
The two spent the rest of the night trying to organize Gavin Reed's life. For the first time in months, Gavin felt contently distracted. Bantering with the OS brought him a sense of comfort and provided a great distraction from the mess in his heart. No depressing thoughts, no Hunter. And while everything in his heart and mind still felt chaotically unorganized, the slightly more tangible things became organized and that brought with it a sense of calm, too. With his files from work and the alike all neat and tidy in the right places, he felt that he could now accomplish so much more work. Who knew that simply organizing a computer would bring about so much relief.
Light bled into darkness by the time they were done, and as Gavin sprawled out on his bed with his well-fed asshole of a cat in the crook of his arm, the thought that haunted him this time as he fell asleep was, maybe this won't be as bad as I thought it would be after all.