Chapter Text
“Okay, Terminal A activated. Testing RK900 model 313-248-317-87.” A light flashed green and a crane pushed forward an android head, the synthetic skin, and hair visible. Gray wiring and black metal plating formed the base of its neck as it stared blankly ahead with gray eyes. “Can you hear me?” A bored huff broke out of a speaker nearby.
“Yes.” Deep and commanding, almost elegant.
“Audio processors are functioning…Uh, can you blink and look around for me? Describe something you see.”
“Yes.” Cranes moved around the robotic head, connecting a torso to the base of the neck, primarily black titanium, with titanium alloy around the joints for maximum flexibility and agility. “I see an opaque window and white lights.” The limbs were added more slowly to be sure they hooked up correctly.
“Optical bio-components operating. Okay, move your head, up, down, left, right, and in a circle.” As his limbs clasped, he moved his head in the order his directions were given. He saw the floor and walls were white, and tiled. The lights above him created a slight glare in his vision due to the brightness. The machinery around him moved smoothly, and he found himself watching the mechanical cranes glide behind him. Suddenly a small audible ‘pop’ was heard as he moved his head in a circle. “I’ve detected a small anomaly coming from your neck region. Gimme a moment to analyze that…” A crane maneuvered behind his range of vision and the whirring of machinery buzzed throughout the room, now quiet from the absence of ‘conversation'. “Oh, I see; your neck isn’t properly adjusted and connected to your torso. Shift your head to the left again for me.” Wordlessly he turned his head to the side, only to feel two metal clamps grip the sides of his neck and lift his head, completely disconnecting it from his torso and re-angling it before pushing it down and back into place. “Now move your head in a circle again.” Repeating the directed action, no interference occurred this time. “Good; since you are military-grade and not made to integrate into society like your prototype was, you are not to be given a name unless warranted by whoever your immediate superior is,” The cranes moved away as his nano-skin began growing across his body, forming his pecs, broad shoulders, and a robust and tight outline of muscles. His understanding of human behavior, and the culture of the country he was being created by, advised him to cover his soon-to-be-formed genitals. “Say your default greeting in English.”
“Hello, I’m an RK900 Military-grade android sent by CyberLife. My most prominent features include night vision, X-Ray, Thermal, UV, and Radiation detection. I can run up to 35 miles per hour if needed, use any type of weaponry, and analyze any substance via oral analytics.” A crane appeared with a pair of black boxers; eagerly scanning the material showed it was 90% cotton and 10% polyester.
“Now, say something in Mandarin Chinese.”
“Nín hǎo, wǒ shì sài bó shēnghuó fāsòng de jīqìrén.” The accent seemed to have raised his voice, a tonal language with sharp inflation.
“Hindi?”
“namaste, main saibaralaiph dvaara bheja gaya endroid hoon.”
“Spanish.”
“Hola, soy el androide enviado por CyberLife.”
“Sing a song in French.”
He quickly searched through his database and paused shortly before choosing a famous French song released 91 years ago, in 1947. “Il est entré dans mon cœur. Une part de bonheur. Dont je connais la cause. C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie. Il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie. Et dès que je l’aperçois. Alors je sens en moi. Mon cœur qui bat.” As the song rose, so did his left hand, before dropping it back to his right to cover himself up; before realizing the boxers were still being handed to him, he grabbed them and quickly stepped into them.
“Great, I can see your motor functions and voice modulator are working as intended. Use your X-Ray feature and tell me what gun I’m holding up through the glass.”
Activating the feature was easy enough; the room appeared white, the objects within outlined in black, but a red L-shaped object was vivid and bright against the colorless surroundings, and he found himself analyzing it instantaneously before turning the function off to reply. “A Glock 17, developed in 1979 and mass-produced in 1982 as a first generation hand-gun to replace the World War II era model, the Walther P38.”
“Now use your thermal vision and tell me, how hot is my cup of coffee, and what is your core temperature?”
Scanning the room, a mantra of colors appeared: warm reds, muted yellows and greens, and cool blues and purples. He noticed he could only see the temperature of the window and nothing behind it; attempting to see past it by focusing, he squinted and felt his pupils dilate. Eventually, the colors from the window faded, and he could see a man with a raised mug with darkened colors enveloping them. “Your coffee is 135.4 degrees Fahrenheit.” Running a quick diagnosis on himself before answering the other question, he shifted on his feet; the cold floor made a loud shlick noise as he moved. “My core temperature is exactly 75.3 degrees Fahrenheit.”
“Okay, you can step off the machine. Walk to your right-hand side. You’ll be placed inside the packaging and sent to the CyberLife tower.” As he finished his testing, he had no reason not to get inside his packaging immediately, but instead, he looked in the mirror behind him. He ran his hands through his dark brown hair and zoomed in on his eyes, sure that if he focused hard enough, he could see his optics swirling around inside his pupils; instead, he saw three faint lines of crow's feet, imitating age. He even noticed the light splatter pattern of freckles, one on his right cheek was darker and stood out more than the surrounding flecks. His hand fell to his face, rubbing his chin and pulling at the corner of his eye before a cough was detected behind him. “Is there an issue? You need to leave so that I can test the next model.”
There was no issue, but he had questions. He dropped his hand and turned around, facing no one but the dark window.
“Can I ask a question?”
“Yes, but most don’t. What is it?” Did he sound confused? Or was he concerned? Was he not supposed to ask questions? If he wasn’t, why was this human enabling him to?
“As you’ve stated, you have more models to test. Can I ask how many of my models have passed through testing?” He didn’t need the answer or even need to ask the question. He just wanted to know how successful he was.
“Ah, well, You’re number 87. Only 39, including you, have passed. CyberLife gave me strict guidelines. If I found any issues I couldn’t fix immediately, signs of deviancy, or hesitation among the tests, I was to send them back for reprogramming or reconfiguration. Is that all?” It appeared that would be all. He didn’t say anything in return, there wasn’t a need to, and stepped inside his package. It was big enough to stand before he felt plastic wrapping coat his body, sealing him within. He had no urge or need to breathe, so it wasn’t a problem. As the line of packaged models continued to move slightly down the line, he realized it would be best for him to go into stasis. It seemed that he wouldn’t be sent to CyberLife alone; every last one of his 200,000 comrades would be sent with him, maybe less if the defective ones couldn’t be salvaged. Eyes spacing out, vision dimming, and his thirium pump slowing, he began his descent, but as he slowly lulled into stasis, he ran one last calculation. Out of 87 models, only 43% have been deemed worthy, giving him an estimate on how many in total would be perfect models, only 86,000.
A wave of cold air washed over him, initiating his skin’s response to mimic goosebumps. His system ran a diagnosis as he awoke, checking his audio, memory, voice, and optical operations. He surveyed his surroundings, realizing the plastic covering containing him had been removed, and a group of humans in strategic uniforms stood around him, two holding guns. The other was directly in front of him; a finger pressed on his LED.
“Is it on yet?” One of the men asked before he looked at the android in front of him, who had glanced over at him. “Oh god, it’s staring at me. What should I do?” Moving his gun around, almost shaking as he did so. He found himself looking away; a search quickly advised him against prolonged eye contact with humans, which made them anxious.
“Chill out, Adrian, my god. It’s fine. It’s on. Now can you stop pointing that damn gun around like you’re gonna shoot it?” The man in front of him backed up as the shorter, more notably nervous one shuffled back and put his firearm at his side.
“Adrian’s a pansy.” The other mocked, chuckling and bouncing lightly on his feet. They all wore garbs similar to a S.W.A.T tactical unit; their faces and skin couldn’t be seen.
“Fuck you, Bryson!” He hissed as he glanced between the ground and the robot he nearly stood next to.
“Both of you, shut up! I gotta give orders, and if one of you confuses it, I will make sure you both get overnight shifts.” Was this human his overseer?
“Damn, alright, man.” ‘Bryson’ turned away from him as ‘Adrian’ remained still and quiet, staring at the floor. This could be useful in the future if this human in front of him were to be his commander.
The group leader backed away from him; he noticed a handgun in its holster as he stood back. “Did you guys even bring the uniform for it?” He watched as the lead human looked between his two partners; no one said anything but Adrian shifted on his feet again. “Oh my fucking, Adrian, go back and get the uniform. I don’t want it walking around…Indecent.” Adrian walked quickly away as Bryson roamed in circles.
“So what now, Carter?” Bryson’s steel-plated boots smacked against the metal floor loudly as he came to a stop.
“We wait. What, are we gonna give it the orders and then let it walk around unclothed?” He barked, turning back to face the android before huffing.
The room's cold air no longer affected him, and his goosebumps had slowly ceased. Standing within his packaging he felt it would be best to get out, as he was to be walking around soon. Looking at both of his supervising humans told him he’d be better off staying where he was. He hadn’t been given an order yet and had to comply with what he was instructed to do. Having no instructions meant no need to move, speak, or react. He still felt his head tilt as he watched one of them pull out what he identified as a cell phone. Scanning the phone as he watched Bryson lift it to the side of his head, he could see the model of the phone, the date it was activated, 3/31/37, and any information processes the phone was committed to. He was calling another human, a woman; her phone number was accessible along with all his other contacts.
“Hey, can you not wait until after we finish this assignment to call someone?” Carter snapped around, walking up next to Bryson as the phone vibrated, dialing this woman's number.
“Listen, my mom's sick, okay? I just need to check on her, and Adrian’s not gonna be back for another 10 or 15 minutes anyway.” He reasoned albeit it was a excuse for passing the time while on the job, checking in on the family.
“Fine.” Carter backed off as the dialing ended, and an older woman's voice broke through in hoarse breaths before a coughing fit overcame her, and she settled.
“Hi, mom,” Bryson began, but the android spaced out as the conversation between him and this associated woman held no real weight on him.
It was none of his concern. All humans fall sick, and sometimes that kills them; they all die eventually. Doing a quick search, he found it interesting how humans attempt and continuously fail at delaying death, aging, and sickness. The vast number of skincare supplements, creams, superficial vitamins, and many diets across the web promote wellness, beauty, and longevity. All that only to give them a couple more years or a decade at the most. Even the surgeries don’t last forever, and the older the human, the less effective they are, and the less time they have before they have to spend more money on another. At some point, doesn’t it become tedious? He found some humans with enough money continue to buy these items until their passing or when a sudden ailment prevents them. From cheap vitamins to vaccines, there seemed to be an endless battle to stay healthy. Half the time, it seems, their DNA is to blame for their illness. Diseases like Sickle Cell Anemia or Huntington’s Disease kill them over time. Although some of these diseases have treatments, most don’t have cures, and the person will live with it, only to pass it on to their children if they live long enough to have any. Running an analysis on the brief snippet of the woman’s voice gave him an estimate of her age, calculated lifespan, and any information he could find through his database. She was roughly 48 and had symptoms of a cold before it escalated into pneumonia. Her chance of recovery with given medical technology was 85%, but she was weakened by it, which could have lowered her chances. He could only know if he could see her and collect more data.
The door slid open with a sharp hiss, and Adrian’s boots could be heard as he walked briskly down the aisle; he looked over slowly and realized for the first time he was not alone. He wasn’t the only one in a box, wrapped in plastic and waiting on orders. Scanning the room as Adrian stopped in front of his captain, it felt like looking at his reflection, but he knew they were all the same as him. Every single one was the same.
“H-here, sir, I’m sorry I forgot.” Adrian huffed out as he caught his breath before he craned his neck and saw Bryson still on the phone with his mother. “Why is he-?”
“He’s not.” Carter turned and snapped his fingers to catch Bryson’s attention, to no avail as he lifted his hand in sign of deviance. “Bryson! Get off your fucking phone. We gotta finish this.” Carter turned back to face him.
The android shifted his gaze from Bryson, who quickly told his mother he had to leave before facing the officer. As he held neatly folded clothes of white and black in front of him, the minor shift in his stance gave something away. His sensors sped up at gathering this information; this one had been lacking him. His outward expression and actions declared dominance and a stoic aura. A fleeting sense filled his chest as he feigned a deep breath, a breath he didn’t need. The man felt intimidated and nervous standing so close to him; that was the one thing his sensors had told him, something he was trying to hide.
“Put these on, and I’ll tell you what to do from there on.” He pushed the clothing towards him again, encouraging him to take them.
He grabbed them with both hands carefully, not breaking eye contact. He caught his leg shake and hesitated for a second before he took a step back from him. “Go on then.” He took a moment to notice how he was taller than all of them, scanning his and their height. Aaden was 5’10, Bryson was 5’9, and Carter was 5’11. He was towering over them at 6’5. A quick search as he began putting his given pants on revealed most humans found another intimidating if they were larger, but in different senses depending on their sex, sexuality, or past experiences. Men found other taller men a threat or intimidating. Women perceived them as sexually attractive at times; other times, they were frightened by their size. It could be said vice versa depending on the person; humans are so sensitive, fragile, and also immensely unpredictable in terms of each other. His fingers slid against the smooth fabric, pulling them over the curve of his rump before pulling them tightly up in the front. The black button-up shirt was next; throwing it over his head and feeling the material stretch against his frame. He took his time buttoning his shirt up while making some adjustments with the neck, it clung to his skin, but it wasn’t bad. It was tolerable, and he even thought it looked nice. No, he knew it looked nice; his processor was doing background searches while he put it on and proved it did. The white jacket glided nicely along him as he fitted it on; his hands reached up to the erect collar and flicked it with his wrists before turning back to the men who stood a little taller now. As they began speaking, he quickly put on the only pair of socks they decided to give him, along with sliding his feet into the pair of black shoes in front of him.
“Okay, there’s a program within you,” Carter took a tentative step forward as he addressed him. “You will enter that program and find your first objective; all your missions will be given to you there. You should also be connected to CyberLife’s system to send files and information relating to your cases.” He watched as Carter made a hand motion towards the other two, regarding them to leave. “This will be the last you see of us, maybe. Unless the need arises.” He watched as Adrian and Bryson walked onto the elevator and ascended to a higher floor before looking back at Carter.
He quickly searched his files to find the program he was instructed to open; it was relatively easy as it was one of the first programs installed into him. Opening the program, the world fell away into blackness, but he could still feel his functions running. He still felt his hands and legs; he opened his eyes to look around. A garden was present here; cherry blossoms and limestone decorated the area. A fake wind blew through his hair, and faint goosebumps ghosted his skin. A pond surrounded him with several white stone-like arches as bridges that led off the platform. He stood in the middle of the pond. It was clear to see this place was based on east Asian decor, but where was he to get his assignment? There were no files or anything he could find of importance. He was prepared to wander around and see everything in this location, but he saw a woman walk up to him before he could. She was an elderly dark-skinned woman dressed in acceptable attire. Wearing a white dress with a cyan sash and golden square-shaped bracelets and necklace made her look almost regal. Was she to be his commander? As he took in her appearance, he noticed someone else walking alongside her. His processor felt strained as he analyzed his face, he realized he was staring at another android similar to himself, but he was not the same model.
The woman began speaking and motioning toward him, but he couldn’t bring his audio processor to store any of the words she said as he took in as much data as possible about the android in front of him. It had soft eyes, almond-shaped, and they were a warm coffee brown. Its eyebrows were dark but raised in a curious stature. Its freckles were incredibly faint; his optical units almost passed over them as he noticed their similar haircut and color. Its hair was a lighter shade than his own, and Its skin was brighter and not as pale as his. The information influx was startling, but he could handle it with efficiency. He was made to take in loads of information at once and store it safely. His own gray eyes stared into brown as he scanned Its face for any hint of anything he wasn’t sure of to analyze. There wasn’t anything there as they stared at one another, but he did notice their height was off. He was taller than the other android by 5 inches. His database informed him his height was by design; he was meant to be more intimidating than other androids as he was built to help police departments, the military, and highly stationed political figures in congress or government officials. The way the other android was built became more apparent to him; its softer eyes, heightened eyebrows, shorter build, and brighter skin allowed it to integrate into society alongside his human counterparts. It was to look friendly and approachable to others, to be easier for humans to talk to. Unlike his model, which was made for somewhat the polar opposite, to be intimidating, follow orders, and being as stealthy as possible, and avoid detection.
“What’s going to happen to me?” The android spoke; Its voice had a higher pitch than his. It sounded naive, but maybe it was supposed to; expressing inexperience could lead humans into believing it wasn’t a threat. The question it asked wasn’t directed at himself but the lady next to him.
“You’ve become obsolete.” She walked towards it, his eyes watching the android’s movements, the way he saw its fingertips twitch. “You’ll be deactivated.” She stopped in front of it; he detected the hint of a smirk on her face. “You can go now.” She turned around and began pruning and picking at the roses on the white trellis.
The androids locked eyes again, and for the briefest moments, he saw something flicker within the other, a subtle twitch of one of its brows. He quickly allowed his processor to delve into his database for facial recognition to figure out precisely what he saw. Even if its action was involuntary, he felt compelled to analyze it thoroughly. It was the first android he’s seen besides himself and those of his model; he knew now this was his predecessor, and if he was to be better than it, he should take in as much information as possible to see if he could learn anything from it. Chances were, just looking at it and taking in data this way wouldn’t give him much, but it was something, and he clung to every file that began downloading inside. This android’s information would be kept in a separate file, away from possible casework and CyberLife data. As the android in front of him turned to leave, he kept his eyes on it, watching it walk away. They never spoke to one another, but its body language could speak for it as a notification slid into his peripheral vision. His scanner indicates what he was looking at was nervous or confused behavior as he re-watched a short reconstruction of it twitching its fingers at the announcement of its deactivation before he shut it off. The lady beside him moved away from her roses, so she now stood before him, gazing at him. He stood tall and was still waiting for a response; he didn’t need to speak; only if she ordered him, otherwise she would have to initiate that conversation.
“What do you think of your predecessor?” She moved back to her roses again but glanced between them and him, her eyes watching his movement, and he had to stop himself from staring at the door the other android had walked out of as it closed.
“I have no opinion on it.” He didn’t lie, he had only seen it, and nothing had happened. He had no reason to judge or speak to the other android.
She paused, turning back to face him. “Take a walk with me.” Although this garden was fake and the wind that blew was artificial, along with everything else within the garden, he saw no need to walk around. It was all one big digital location, and nothing in it was real. He said nothing and silently turned to face her before following as she started towards a bridge that arched over the pond, devoid of any fish. “Do you know your predecessor’s name?” She asked, passing a white marble tower with no interesting feature besides the top jutting out like a decorative umbrella.
“The RK800 model’s default name is Connor. I’m assuming that was its as well?” His monotone reaction didn’t go unnoticed as the lady in front of him side-eyed him for a moment, not slowing or stopping her pace.
“You don’t sound all that interested in him.” She pointed out, turning away from him to glance at several flowers, mainly Japanese Sunflowers.
“I’m an improved model, and I have already scanned it for any form of information it could give me that may assist me in the future. I’m sure there isn’t much more of it I’d need to know about.” Staying on topic and answering indifferently seemed to please her as she straightened herself and turned to face him.
“I’m to give you a designated name. Would you like to go by your predecessor’s name?” She gave him a questioning look, asking politely.
In rapid succession, he re-scanned the other android and did analytics on his own face before concluding. “I suspect that taking my predecessor’s name could cause possible confusion for humans I work with if my predecessor has worked with them previously.” He explained as he watched her reactions closely; this woman wasn’t like the three men he first saw coming out of stasis.
She didn’t wear her emotions on her sleeves; even if this was a program built within him, he didn’t think she would behave this way. Most humans were emotional and found it hard not to express themselves, and she didn’t seem to mind it at all.
“And why would it be confusing? You’re replacing him entirely. What does it matter if you take his name?” Her face contorted to that of confusion before softening as he spoke up.
“Humans have a hard time distinguishing between faces that are more than 75% alike. I’m afraid my face may make it harder for me to pick up where it left off.” He stated plainly; she just had a slight misunderstanding.
A bit of a scoff left her mouth as she began talking. “If it makes you feel more at ease, give yourself a different name.” He didn’t know if he had said something wrong; she hadn’t told him if he had, but having a different name would make things easier.
Ignoring her tone, he continued. “I can’t give myself a name. It’s categorized as a deviant behavior to give names to things, including oneself.” He blinked as she stared carefully, thinking perhaps.
“Register your name,” once stated; his audio processor was accessed by his memory. “Nolan.”
“My name is Nolan.” He spoke the name given aloud, hastily running searches of information on the name he was assigned.
Nolan - Irish Origin, Meaning: Champion or One of Noble Blood
He stared off before blinking back and looking at the woman who had given him his name. “Now that I have a name, I’m told you’re to give me my missions?”
“Yes, You’re to follow up where your predecessor left off, with deviant cases,” She paused as she continued walking down the artificially constructed path.
“Is there something wrong?” He asked, noticing her sudden hesitation.
“Something interesting has just taken place. Your predecessor may have been more…Free spirited than previously believed.” Although she spoke in a manner that conveyed slight annoyance, the tiny glimmer of interest in her eyes did not go unnoticed by him as she stopped and faced him. “Your first mission is to locate and capture model RK800-51.”
“How should I go about obtaining it?” Do they require the android to function? Should he destroy it on sight? Or should he deactivate it and take it back to the tower? These are all ways he could retrieve his deviated predecessor.
“We need to analyze and deconstruct him to see what caused this onset of deviance. If he’s destroyed it’ll make things harder and take longer but if you must…” Her voice held calm urgency as she looked at him.
“I will bring it where it belongs. Although I can’t guarantee it won’t be damaged.”
“Then go, I’ll contact you every day for a daily report, and send any information regarding the mission to Cyberlife.” She turned around and walked away, leaving him to his own devices.
He looked over at the closed door on the other side of the lake the android had also walked out of. Did this garden extend into another artificial room? As the only visible exit, he walked back towards it, crossing a small bridge, and watched as two flat doors slid open, revealing an empty white room, only the size of a broom closet. He walked in, and he felt himself take in a small gasp of air as he opened his eyes to see he was alone. Surrounded by copies of himself within a multitude of boxes, like toys at a store. The only difference was that he had a purpose and a mission, and he had to accomplish it.