Abstraction

by orphan_account

Summary:

You never really had an interest in androids. To you they were just there. Smiling, but fake. Plastic.
But that one...with bits of thirium and blood on its face. It...it didn't look like it was pretending. It looked real. He looked scared.
You need to get him out of certain death, and you'll do it with the deviant hunter breathing down your neck, following you at every turn, waiting for you to make some kind of mistake.
It's a game of cat and mouse, and you aren't looking to lose
Unfortunately, neither is Connor.

Chapter 1

"Reason for visit?" the receptionist asks.

You shuffle through your bag, not bothering to look at it, "Consultation."

The android scans through the database and you catch its LED blink yellow. Finally, it smiles.

"Accepted. Have a wonderful night," It says politely and out of pure habit, you smile back.

The station isn't crowded at night, partially because most of the officers have already gone home. You check your watch, grimacing at 1:04 am. You really hope you didn't just miss him.

A voice calls out your name. 

"Tina, hey! You haven't gone home yet?" You laugh breathlessly.

The officer shakes her head, "I'm not gonna be doing that for a while, sadly. What are you in for?"

You shuffle with your bag, "Have you seen the Lieutenant? I was wondering if I could borrow Moronson's case files from him for just a quick second."

"Anderson is kinda' in an interrogation right now, sorry," Tina gives a sympathetic smile, "I think he'll be out in a few moments, if you don't mind waiting." 

"Not at all," You take a seat next to her. 

"How is Moronson doing, by the way?" 

"Great, actually," You grin, "The judge is really close to throwing out the case completely. We have a really good chance of winning this."

"Yeah, well hard to prove he robbed a store when he was in a completely different state," Tina commented sarcastically, "I still can't believe they seriously thought a scarf was good enough evidence to convict him." 

You hum.

"The things the rich do, huh?" 

A sharp clang distracts you from your conversation. You turn, catching a frustrated Detective Reed stomping out of the backroom. He curses, loud enough to reach your ears as he disappears behind his desk. 

You glance back at Tina, "Long night?" 

She sighs, "Something like that. Just ignore him, he's been like that ever since The Captain approved the android to start investigating." 

Oh? You raise your brows. 

"The android?"  

"Yeah, apparently cyberlife made a 'detective android' to help with the rising cases of android attacks," She shrugs, "It located the bot that killed its owner." 

"Really? That's pretty impressive," Though androids have been known to do complex tasks like playing the piano and driving, this was the first time you've heard of an android actively being part of a case. 

"Yeah, but its personality sucks," She leaned closer, eyes glittering with amusement, "Apparently it poured the Lieutenant's drink out and pulled him into the rain." 

You sighed, "Are you telling me the man is sober and pissed?" You hadn't even met the new recruit and it was already starting to become a hassle.

Tina gave a laugh, "Sorry. Let's hope he's calmed down a bit." 

You were about to reply, when the backroom opened for a second time. Miller walked out first, followed by a timid man in handcuffs-no it was an android- you realize. It really fooled you for a second, with the way it looked so...so...

You didn't get to finish your thought, quickly getting up when you saw the Lieutenant languidly coming out after it. Muttering a tiny 'wish me luck Tina' you started towards the haggard man. His frown deepened when he saw you. Anderson groaned. 

"Great, another pain in my ass," Clearly, he hadn't calmed down. 

"Lieutenant, always a pleasure," You smiled ignoring his tone, "How are you, tonight?" 

"Peachy," He says back, "What do I gotta do to get you outta' my hair?" 

You don't miss a beat, "Remember Moronson? I was hoping I could go over his file one more time. Just to see if we missed anything." 

Anderson sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Oh yeah, him. Have they sent him home yet?"  

"No," You continue after a few moments of silence, "His son really misses him." 

He doesn't respond and you wonder if you cross the line. Relief fills your lungs as he finally nods. 

"Yeah, I'll get 'em to you. Just wait a bit. Grab a coffee or something." He mutters, pushing past you towards his desk. 

"Thank you!" You call back, pleasantly pleased the encounter went in a more civil direction than you initially expected.

You hadn't really done anything to the Lieutenant (at least you hope you hadn't), but he'd always been a little clipped with you. You and everyone else he came into contact with. It was a bit frustrating; however, you couldn't really blame him. Though you didn't really know Anderson, you knew about the incident. Everyone knew about the incident. The prototype had been deactivated and Cyberlife had been banned from ever interfering with emergency medical care. It must be hard being faced with sympathetic faces, pitied smiles as they droned on and on about how sorry they were. Nobody can go through grief healthily with the whole world watching. 

Not even Hank. 

You watch the Lieutenant sit behind his desk, preparing to pull those files out for you. He probably wouldn't let you hover, snapping at a curious paralegal was a fairly common thing with him. With nothing else to do you think back to his suggestion. Coffee does sound pretty good right now; you did feel a little tired, some caffeine might help to keep you up for at least a couple more hours. 

On the way to the breakroom you pass the jail cells. Two teenagers resided in the glass cage, passively glancing at you as you walked past. You recognized them as the duo Miller brought in that evening. Apparently, they were vandalizing a brick wall and ran when Miller tried to apprehend them. You rolled your eyes but there was a little bit of humor. No matter what era you were in, kids would always do dumb things. 

Wait. You paused at the last cell, peering into the glass. The same android you'd seen earlier was sitting on the floor of it's cell. Its face is covered in thirium and blood. You grimace, now being able to see it more clearly.  The artificial skin on its forearms is gone, revealing pasty white plastic covered in burn marks-cigarette burns, you realize. It sits on the floor, back hunched over, like it was trying to protect itself. 

It's shaking and you're reminded of a child lost in a mall, shivering and crying for their parents. 

"I don’t want to die." 

"What?" 

Your voice startles it. It jumps, jerking up to stare and you have the sudden urge to apologize- to step back even though you knew androids don't think or feel or hope or fear but-

But then why is there fear in his eyes? 

You can't delude yourself. You can't pretend you didn't see it-you can't see him. He's scared and shivering and lost and you’re confused and scared too because you’ve never seen such emotions so readily printed on an android. 

Not even on a human.

It alarms you and you jolt back, unconsciously trying to create space-distance- between the object that surprised you. All you achieved was ramming yourself into a firm chest. 

Hands instantly press on your shoulders in an effort to stabilize you. They’re hard, large, but gentle, letting you ease your way back into a more stable position. 

“Civilians are not permitted to interact with deviants because it may cause emotional distress,” A soft voice says behind you, “I strongly advise you to leave the area.” 

You whirl around. It’s another android- not a cop, it's not wearing the same uniform- if you weren’t so rattled you would’ve concluded that this was the android Tina was talking about. It stares down at you, tilting its head, as if it was trying to be less intimidating. The action only serves to further unnerve you. 

“Sorry I-I-” You glanced back at the cell. The android had turned back into its previous position, keeping its face hidden from view. You stare at it a little more. 

Had you just imagined that?

“There you are- Jesus fucking Christ: Connor, what are you doing now?” You hear the Lieutenant groan.  

The android immediately steps away from you, granting you space to breathe, “I’m Sorry, Lieutenant. I was just informing her of the station protocols.” 

“Yeah, well she’s been here longer than you so you can stick that up your ass,” Anderson turns to you, “Sorry ‘bout that. That thing has a few screws loose-literally.” 

He’s making a joke. You can barely comprehend that, smiling tersely at his words, numbly reaching for the files Anderson holds out. 

“Thank you,” You say, finally finally gaining back your voice, “I’ll get these back as soon as I can.” 

“Don’t mention it,” He waves you off, “Take care.” 

You smile again, and this time it feels a lot less forced. Nodding at both the Lieutenant and his android (you don’t glance back at the cell), you make your way back to the front of the station, past the automatic doors until you step foot outside. 

You suck in cold fresh air, looking up at the night sky. It’s chilly tonight, the weather said that there would be a good chance of a snowstorm tonight. Maybe you should have brought warmer clothes. 

You think about going shopping tomorrow, maybe stopping by that café that you’d been meaning to go to. You try to think about anything but those scared eyes, a shaking body, a broken voice. 

Stop. Stop thinking . 

The android was glitching, all his reactions were programmed-simulated. He wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. 

“I don’t want to die.”

Fuck, you regretted not grabbing coffee.

Notes:

Connor will be a little bit of a menace because that's how I played him in the game. I love how he's so polite but he will still try to stab his way to victory if he has to it's so funny. But don't worry yall will still get soft connor moments.
also I have NO idea how law works. Im a cs major and my worst crime has been writing bakudeku fanfiction (which probably has a sentence of being hooked up to the electric chair). I just thought It'd be kind of interesting to see the HK400 go to trial to clear his name. He was literally my FAVORITE character and the game just kills him off??? The fact he had so much potential too! I just really want him to be happy because he deserves happiness.
Third thing, the plot happens TOO quick in the game. I thought this took place over a couple months??? Apparently all this happened in a week? HOW? I have no idea how im going to fit this story into that same timeframe so we're going to pretend the android revolution takes a few months to fully come together.

Chapter 2

“You seem distracted, today.” 

 

You jolt, your pen almost flying out of your hand. Boltos tilts her head, amused by your reaction. 

 

A smile is lifted onto your lips, blocking out any other expression, “Distracted? Does it look that way?” You tally the papers in your arms. “Sorry, guess I didn"t get enough sleep.” 

 

“Hmm,” Your boss simply says and you resist the urge to get defensive. 

 

It was true, you barely slept at all last night. You were tossing and turning, your brain running a thousand miles an hour as you thought about your encounter with that android. His eyes, the blood, his fear. For some reason you couldn’t get him out of your head. 

 

“Did you receive the report from Kadia?” She finally asks and you’re grateful she changes the subject. 

 

“About the firm’s expenditures? Yeah, I got it.” You nod, “Will this affect Morronson’s case?” 

 

“Hopefully not,” Your boss sighs, “But keep an eye out, just in case, alright? They’re really starting to tighten things around here.” She muttered something under her breath, a curse most likely, and you resisted the urge to grin. 

 

You liked working at the DNRI. Sure, it was overcrowded at the best of times, your desk was never clean of files and paperwork, but you enjoyed it. You really felt like you were making a difference here, helping the assistant DA with cases no one else is willing to take, providing legal services to those who needed it the most. 

 

Especially these days, when you were swamped with requests and pending cases. With androids becoming more accepted in the workforce, more and more people were losing their jobs-usually getting let off with nothing. 

 

God, Cyberlife was starting to become a bigger pain in the ass. 

 

“Here, I’ll take that,” Boltos grabs the files from your hands before you can say anything. You begin to protest, but she gives you a look that makes you instantly clamp your mouth shut. 

 

“Take a power nap. I really don’t need a paralegal who looks like they’re about to drop at any second.” 

 

You make an offended noise, but she doesn’t pay it any mind, strutting off before you can reply. Silently, you watch her back disappear. 

 

Boltos was nice, you were sure about it, but sometimes she came across as a little condescending. 

 

Okay, extremely condescending. 

 

Wringing your hands, you head to the break room. A nap is out of the question, but maybe drinking your weight in coffee might make you a little more alert. 

 

The break room was empty, a rare sight. Relief filled your veins as you pressed a styrofoam cup to the machine. No humans were around, no androids either. Actually the DNRI was an Android free establishment. Partially because most of your clients despised androids and because of the security risk. Androids were walking cameras, they were able to scan files and private documents without a worry. They were too easy to hack. Too easy to leak.

 

The coffee was too hot, it slightly scalded your tongue. You didn’t mind, it was just another way to keep you awake. 

 

“Gross,” A voice scoffed. 

 

You rolled your eyes, “Sorry not all of us have the time or the money to get caramel Frappuccinos,” You say, with no actual malice in your tone, “Unfortunately, us peasants are stuck with bitter bean water.” 

 

Kadia gives a dramatic sigh, “How tragic.” Before she eyes the bubbling coffee machine suspiciously. 

 

“I’m still not convinced this thing actually dispenses coffee. Pretty sure it’s toxic waste. Dyed toxic waste.” 

 

You can’t stop the mirth that spreads on your lips, “An excellent theory.” 

 

“Right? Anyway, I really love what you did with your hair today.” Your smile drops. 

 

“ No. ” You turn around. 

 

“What? I just wanted to compliment you! And-oh wow your outfit looks so good. I mean the colors just-” 

 

“Kadia, no, I’m not doing it.” 

 

“I haven’t even asked anything,” She whines, giving a sheepish grin when you glare at her, “ Buuuut if I hypothetically had a request it would be asking you to go to the DPD to get something for me?” 

 

“Ugh, absolutely not.” You say, returning to your coffee. 

 

“Please please please?” She shamelessly begs, “We’re really swamped today, and I’m pretty sure if Boltos doesn’t get those files she’ll really go on a firing spree.” 

 

You hesitate in your reply. Why did you not want to go? Usually you had no problems running errands for others in the DNRI. They scratch your back, you scratch theirs, right? Yet for some reason…you had no desire to enter the DPD…ever. You might see it again and you didn’t want to.

 

It was childish. Unprofessional. You pushed the feeling of uncanniness away, finally relenting. 

 

“I want a caramel macchiato sitting on my desk when I get back. Grande .” 

~

“Can I help you?” 

 

You were here. Again. Standing just outside of the precinct. A part of you cursed Kadia for convincing you. Another part floundered you for being such a doormat. Realizing it"s a bit too late to throw a tantrum, you throw a fake smile at the android receptionist. 

 

“Yeah, I’m here on behalf of a co-worker, Kadia Mirash.” 

 

The android nods, smiling pleasantly, “Do you have authorization?” 

 

Wordlessly, you hand over your phone. The android scans the code, its LED blinks yellow. It smiles again. 

 

“Detective Reed is waiting by his desk.” 

 

Well, now you know why Kadia was so hesitant about coming. 

 

You give a terse smile, more out of habit than any real gratitude, before entering the station’s doors.

 

Just like the android stated, Reed is sitting by his desk, concentrating on his computer. Unconsciously, you feel yourself tense.  Still, you manage to give a relaxed smile. 

 

“Good morning, Detective,” You greet pleasantly, “How are you?” 

 

Reed barely gives you a glance, “‘Morning,” He says back, “You here for the cash reports?” 

 

You nod. 

 

“Yeah, just give me a sec,” He’s back to his computer, lazily typing away. 

 

Reed wasn’t a bad cop, and you don’t think you’d call him a corrupted one. He was passionate about his job, and if you stayed out of his way, he wasn’t necessarily unpleasant. But many still were a little uncomfortable about how he treated androids. Though androids didn’t feel, they looked human enough that most people felt a semblance of empathy towards them. His constant jokes about burning them, pulling them apart piece by piece, were unsettling. A police android went missing a few weeks ago, and there were rumors about Reed taking it along with a few other policemen and using it as shooting practice. 

 

He doesn’t treat them like machines, he treats them like…

 

“Shit,” You heard him say, “It’s not loading. Here uh-” He drummed his fingers on the keyboard, “I’ll just get ‘em manually. Wait here.” 

 

He doesn’t wait for you to reply, and you watch him saunter into the archive room. You take a second to condem his unprofessionalism. It’s not as if he hadn’t known you weren’t coming. He had days to prepare a single spreadsheet yet he chose to push it off and make you wait. 

 

Impatiently, you tap against the desk, waiting for him to come back. When that gets too boring, you decide to walk around, investigating other parts of the precinct. It was the same as always. People filed in and out of the room, cops shuffling all around you. 

 

“Sometimes, I feel like you don’t have an actual job.” 

 

You roll your eyes. 

 

“Afternoon, officer,” You greet Tina. She grins back. 

 

“Hey.” She waves a cup around. “You want this? The machine gave me too much.” 

 

You shake your head. “No, thanks.” 

 

Shrugging, she sets the cup down on the detective’s desk. 

 

“What are you doing?” 

 

“Waiting for your partner to come back with my reports,” You say, “He likes taking his time, doesn’t he?” 

 

Tina smiles, it’s a lot kinder now. 

 

“Don’t give him such a hard time,” She sighs, “I know everyone thinks he’s a dick, but he’s not a bad person…He just takes a while to show it.” 

 

You hum, it takes a while for you to gain the courage to actually ask the question. A few attempts pass before you finally ask. 

 

“Is it still here?” 

 

Tina cocks her head, “What?” 

 

“The android with blue blood on it,” You indulge, “Is it still here?” 

 

She shrugs, “Should be? Why?” 

 

“I just…I don’t know….You’ve seen it up close, right? Do-do you feel anything off with it? Wrong?” 

 

She nods. You feel relieved. 

 

“Yeah. It’s pretty freaky to look at, especially with blood all over it.” 

 

“Oh…” You deflate. That wasn’t what you meant. At all. 

 

You’re sure she’s about to ask what you meant, but something seems to grab her attention. Gibberish on her radio. You watch as she flicks it off with one finger. 

 

“Someone’s calling me for backup,” She sighs, “I’ll see you later, okay?” 

 

“Oh, yeah sure,” You respond, watching her leave, “Be careful.” 

 

Tina gives a lazy wave, before disappearing down the precinct, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

 

She hadn’t seen it either. That look. You wondered if you were going crazy, insane. Maybe all that work at the DNRI had really made you lose it, made you see things that weren’t really there. To the point where you were making cases, finding humanity in something that didn’t deserve it. 

 

Maybe this is what they call morbid curiosity. To look at a car crash despite the gruesomeness. When one hides behind their hands during a horror movie, their fingers spread out just enough to catch the monster on its murderous rampage. Human intrigue. The name didn’t matter, not when you were stepping forward, retracing the steps you took that night. 

 

It was in the same position as last time. Balled up, almost hunched over. They still hadn’t gotten it a change of clothes. You could see it was covered in the same specks of red and blue. 

 

HK400. It took you hours to find that, shifting through pictures in the cyberlife database, trying to identify a face. It was a mere household android, made for mopping and basic geriatric care. 

 

“You’re here, again.” 

 

You don’t jump at its voice, not this time. It’s emotionless. Dead. That fear, the desperation you first heard, was gone. You wonder if you’d just imagined it. 

 

Yet, you still don’t know how to respond. 

 

“Yeah,” You finally say. It’s all that you can think of. 

 

“I am.” 

 

It nods, tight, uniformed. It’s still trembling. Was that out of fear, or just a glitch? 

 

“Why?” 

 

It was a question you’d asked yourself time and time again. Why why why were you doing this? Torturing yourself? It was a basic science. Anything human enough, people tend to project the emotions they want to see on them. Happiness, sadness, fear. This had to be the same phenomenon, right? 

 

“I heard what you did.” A lie, a blatant one, but the red blood mixed with blue told a clear story. “Can you tell me?” 

 

It doesn’t respond. To that, you take a seat, sliding down to the dirty floors until you’re at the same level as it. It takes another glance at you. 

 

“Is that a no, then?” 

 

“What good would it do?” It seems to practically spit out, “So you can figure out what kind of glitch I have? So you can fix me?” 

 

“No,” You reply honestly, “I just want to understand.” 

 

He doesn’t have an answer for that, not a direct one. 

 

“Years,” It starts. His voice is lower, darker, filled with a low simmer. 

 

“He did that to me for years. Every burn, every mark, every scar. I was trapped like that forever and ever and ever.” 

 

The android shakes a little more. You can see hands curl into fists, one plastic, another with skin. 

 

“There was never a reason for it. I was perfect- I was designed to be perfect. Yet-yet he still tortured me. Kept me his prisoner. His helpless puppet.” He’s gnashing his teeth together, trying to force out each word. You press closer against the glass. 

 

“What would you do?” He whips his head to face you. His plastic eyes are filled with desperation, and you can’t breathe because he’s real he’s real. 

 

“What-what would you do?” 

 

“...What did you do?” You ask instead. 

 

He takes a moment. Androids don’t need to breathe, but he’s erratically sucking in air, as if that’s the only thing that can calm him. 

 

“I was tired,” He rasps, “Scared…But I was mostly angry. I wanted him to feel what I felt.”

 

“I wanted him to know that I was a living being…and he tried to take that away from me.” 

 

He’s crawling, slowly moving towards the tempered glass. His hand, the one covered in cigarette burns, reaches out to press against the spot you sat, like he was trying to feel warmth, human warmth. 

 

“I just wanted to live no-no-no…that’s not right,” He’s backpedaling, it’s such a human thing to do, “I wanted to be free. And now I’m going to be dissected for it. Like there’s something wrong with me.” 

 

There’s a barrier between the two of you, but it oddly feels like there isn’t. This was it, there was no use running away, denying it. He was real. He was real and it was killing you. 

 

“Do you want something?” 

 

“I want…” He’s trailing off, like he hasn’t even considered he could want something from this world that claimed him piece by piece, code by code. 

 

“I want a fighting chance,” He finally breathes against the glass. 

 

“I don’t want to die,” He whispers. 

 

Something burns in your throat. 

 

“I think...I don’t want you to die, either.” 

Notes:

i have a plot!...i think....its not that well sketched but it's a plot nontheless~

Chapter 3

Notes:

Just an fyi, though Detroit does so much to push itself as a story about race, I never really saw it that way. I always saw robot liberation as a completely different discussion compared to human oppression and comparing them just really stomps on the real oppression actual human beings had to go through and it’s not that simple.

I'm just putting this out there cuz there will be a lot of dehumanization in the story and the reader will have some biases as well. Once again, I'm not trying to draw parallels between racism, it’s just the discussion about robot sentience. I will personally rip out the spray paint from Markus’ hand before he draws blm signs everywhere.

“I thought you passed the piss test.” 

 

“For the last time, I’m not on drugs,” You tell Boltos as you practically chase her down the halls, “I’m clean, sober! I can walk backwards, probably say the alphabet backwards if you want me to prove it again.” 

 

“Then you’re finally going insane,” She rolls her eyes, “It’s a wonderful story, I truly commend your creativity, but please take it elsewhere.” 

 

You’re finally able to corner her thanks to the DNRI’s narrow hallways. She gives you an unimpressed look. 

 

“You have five minutes before I fire you.” 

 

“Boltos, I know how crazy this sounds, but I swear there was something different about him. This wasn’t me projecting or-or anything like that. He was describing self-defense, at least an extremely isolated case of it.” 

 

“You sat on a dirty floor while a glitched out robot talked about murdering someone. Yes, I understand,” She waved you on, “Your point?” 

 

“I-I think you should take the case.” 

 

Now that got a laugh out of her. Her usual resting bitch-face split into a mocking smile. She even slapped her knees. You weren’t as amused. 

 

“I’m serious!” 

 

“I know you are,” She said, even going as far as wiping out fake tears, “That’s why I’m laughing at you.” 

 

You ignore it, “Think about it? This was essentially everything we’ve ever wanted! I know you hate cyberlife as much as I do, but there’s so little we can do against the small cases here and there. There’s a reason no one wants to go up against them. It’s literally suicide.” 

 

“But-but an android? Something with that much intel, that much data? No family ties, no monetary investments to care about. He doesn’t have anything to lose.” 

 

She says your name in this condescending tone and you’re sighing, already knowing what Boltos is about to say. 

 

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but androids are as valuable as parrots.” 

 

“A parrot was used as a witness, once.” 

 

She gives you a look. 

 

“And he won’t be a witness. He’ll be a plaintiff.” 

 

“Oh God.” She groans. 

 

“My five minutes aren’t up yet!” You say, “Just please please please hang on.” 

 

“You’re wrong. It’s actually been 6 minutes and 23 seconds. I gave you two minutes extra and you still managed to fail.” She tsked as she turned to walk away. 

 

“Leave your resignation on my desk.” 

 

“Fine, who cares if it’s actually sentient or not,” You finally call. 

 

She turns back to stare at you. 

 

“Does it even matter? If I believe he’s alive, there’s a chance others will too. He’ll say his story as many times as he needs to and people will listen to him. Believe him. It’s one thing when we gather a few complaints against cyberlife, it’s another if we can prove that this company is creating beings forced to work in servitude.” 

 

“There will be billions in settlements. That tower won’t stand after that, not when the whole world is watching.” 

 

Boltos doesn’t say anything immediately. She takes a moment, lowering her glasses, inspecting them for any dust particles. 

 

“You think this will be sensational? That’s bold.” She finally says. 

 

“The HK400, right? A friend of mine at the station sent me a report about it, I was curious.” She shrugs, “It’s owner is dead, so in less than 24 hours, it will be handed off to cyberlife.” 

 

“But-” 

 

“Unless,” She sharply continues, “Unless you can find another owner.” 

 

You blink at her. 

 

“Property can be inherited, dear. Who do you think’s going to get my grandmother’s shitty china set?” 

“You have to remember. Any relatives? Did Ortiz have parents? Aunts? Uncles?” 

 

“No, nothing,” The HK400 android says back, “No one ever visited us.” 

 

You’re currently pacing across his cell, staring rigidly at the floor. They seriously hadn’t cleaned this thing since the start of the 21st century, you had no idea how you were able to just sit on it. 

 

“Okay okay okay,” You mumbled, more to yourself than anyone else. “I have 22 more hours. The database listed no living relatives. The closest I could find was an Andrea De Leon but she’s all the way in Venezuela. It will be impossible to bring her back in the time frame. Fuck.” 

 

You lightly kicked a pillar, trying to express your anger without hurting yourself. You wished you’d kicked it harder. 

 

 “Are you sure?” You have to ask again, “It’s our only shot. Please please please.” 

 

“I-I-I don’t know. I-I-I do not know.” 

 

He’s panicking. Your eyes widened and you realized you upset him. You move closer to the cell, pressing your hand against the glass. 

 

“Hey, hey relax,” You lightly say, “This is just a small setback. We’ll get through it. We just have to calm down and think.” 

 

His breathing slows, he looks up at you again. Something’s changed in those eyes of his. They’re brighter. Hopeful. Part of you feels guilty for using him for your own benefit, but in the end, it will help him too. 

 

“Let’s think about something else. We’ve been cracking our heads for an hour.” He gives a terse smile at your hyperbole. 

 

“I never asked this, but…do you really not have a name?” 

 

He hesitates for a moment, looking away. You panic, about to change the topic to something else. 

 

“No…” He finally says, “I do not. My…my previous owner thought it unnecessary.” 

 

You nod, watching him. His previous owner caused a lot of distress. You didn’t blame him, how could you. The scars, the cigarette holes etched in his damaged shell. You don’t even think mannequins would be treated so…inhumanly.

 

Inhuman. 

 

The word doesn’t seem right anymore. 

 

“Well,” You continue, “It’d be nice if you had a name. HK400 is a bit of a mouthful.” 

 

You give him a limp shrug. He seems to contemplate your sentence. Waiting for something. 

 

“If you ever think of a name, let me know okay?” 

 

There’s something in his eyes. Relief, you recognize. Wait, did he think you are going to give him a name? You try not to think too deeply about his reaction…about how reliant he is on you, despite claiming to want to be free. 

 

“In my experience, names can be as special or as insignificant as you want it to be. I’m not trying to advise you, just giving a tiny bit of my perspective.” 

 

He doesn’t give any verbal acknowledgement, but you can see his temple spin yellow. In a way, you can see his gears turn. 

 

“I remember someone.” 

 

“What?” You flip back to him, “Really? You-you remember someone? Related to Ortiz?” 

 

He’s nodding just as eagerly. “Yes!” There’s a grin on his face, wider than you’d ever seen. 

 

“A small girl. There-there was once a small girl that came over. Seven. Looked exactly like him.” He’s squinting his eyes, pacing in the same way you once did. 

 

“His daughter? In-in everything I’ve tried to get on him, I didn’t get any evidence of him having a daughter.” 

 

You pause, and something dawns on you. You never had the full picture. Most of the stuff you could get on Ortiz was public information, available to everyone. The only place that could have anything on his daughter was…

 

You looked around the precinct. Tina was always your go-to, but you were sure anything about Ortiz was confidential, there was no telling what would happen to her job if she, for some reason, decided to spill the beans. 

 

“I know someone.” The android seems to read your mind, “There’s a high possibility he knows something. A 93 percent.”

 

You look at him. Those odds seemed good, just seven points away from being guaranteed. 

 

“Who?” You ask, “Is it someone inside or outside the precinct?” 

 

He takes a finger, lifting it up. You follow its direction, looking over to where he’s pointing. 

 

A mechanical figure sits rigidly in a chair and you recognize him. 

 

“The RK unit. Connor.”