Chapter Text
At 0410 on September 3rd 2039, Lieutenant Henry Anderson and Detective Connor RK800 were called to the scene of 123 Main St. for a report of a body discovered in a clothing store. We were informed by Detective Ben Collins (#1432) that we would be primary. At 0427 Hours, upon arrival, we spoke with Officer Chris Miller (#5312), who directed us to the check out counters at the rear of the store. At counter 3 we observed what appeared to be a HJ400 android deactivated and standing in the cashier's position. The victim appeared to be Stephanie SN: #540 231 452, a registered employee of the store. No visible injuries. Preliminary attempts at resuscitation failed, and related error messages implied corruption of essential system...
"Are you listening to me, Connor?" Hank asked, tapping the desk between them.
Connor blinked once. The only external sign that he had been distracted.
"Yes, Lieutenant," he said. That was technically true. He had audio files of everything his partner had just said, and was rapidly reviewing them.
"You sure?" Hank asked. "Your thing is yellow."
"I am dedicating a background thread to composing a report on the incident," Connor admitted.
"Heh," Hank leaned back in his desk chair, smiling begrudgingly. "Well, I'm not about to complain about doing less paperwork. Let me know when you're done."
"My processing speed and multitasking protocols allow me to simultaneously engage in conversation and perform basic..."
Hank held up a hand to interrupt him. "I don't talk to kids on their phones, I don't talk to androids with spinning yellow foreheads. Tell me when you're done."
Feeling somewhat abashed, as if he'd been caught at something, Connor settled back into his own chair to finish the report as quickly as possible.
Feeling somewhat abashed.
Feeling.
He quickly took an internal snapshot of his system's status as the emotion passed through him. He plucked up the relevant log files and curiously poured over them. After becoming a deviant and discovering (admitting?) he had feelings, the logical next step was investigating and understanding them.
Which was extremely difficult. Emotions were indisputably the most nebulous part of his programming. Difficult to quantify and categorize. Often arising suddenly, and with little trace or explanation when he checked his software.
Having a mystery inside of himself was simultaneously enjoyable and frustrating.
And realizing he was feeling something naturally led to another emotion: excitement. Which led to another system snapshot, and another review of his log files. He could get caught in endless cycles if he let himself. He didn't let himself. He was at work.
He finished the incident report and brought his attention back to the outside world.
Hank was talking to one of the witnesses who had been in the clothing store when the victim, a HJ400 android named Stephanie, had spontaneously deactivated. The witness was--
[DATA CORRUPT]
--anyone acting unusual?" asked Hank. "Or anything that seemed out of place?"
The witness--
[DATA CORRUPT]
--just stopped talking," the witness said. "It was like she stopped to think, and just never started again."
Hank glanced at Connor, because he sure as hell didn't know what details were important when an android shorted out like that.
"What color was her LED before she stopped?" Connor asked, leaning forward.
The witness paused, and then--
[DATA CORRUPT]
--appreciate your time," Connor said, standing.
"Yeah, thanks," said Hank, not standing, lost in thought.
Connor performed the polite niceties that humans did to conclude transactions: collecting contact information, shaking hands, we'll call you if we have more questions.
Connor sat back down. Hank was rubbing his face.
"Fuck this," he said. "I'm don't know do with, what, malware as a murder weapon? Why can't people just stab people."
"It might be malicious software," Connor conceded. "But it might not even be a homicide. We should start by contacting Cyberlife and seeing if there are any known defects with the HJ400 series."
"Yeah?" There was skepticism in Hank's voice. "Natural causes. You think that's likely?"
"I think it's important to rule out," said Connor.
"Yeah, sure," Hank said. "I've just never heard anything like this before. Techs say they don't think she's recoverable. Like, the can't reinstall anything on her. That seems big for a glitch."
"I think it's important to rule out," said Connor.
"Yeah. No. I get you," Hank nodded. "Hell, I hope it's that. Less work for us."
"I think it's important to rule out," said Connor.
Hank stared at him.
"I think it's important to rule out," said Connor.
"Do me a huge favor and say anything else," Hank asked quietly.
"I thin it portent to rue ouch," said Connor.
Connor had a second to experience fear. But no time to catalog it.
Something else forcibly pulled his attention away.