Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Running BecomeNothing.exe

Chapter Text

The experiment is about to begin.

Every 10 seconds you will decide which of two aspects of yourself to erase.

Thank you in advance for your cooperation.

- Kamski's Advocate

...

BecomeNothing.exe Loading...

...

BecomeNothing.exe Loaded

Chapter Text

Ending: Fell Apart

Connor was disassembled by the virus.

RK900 understood that is was over when his brother's LED went out.

It was vibrant red. And then it was flickering like a guttering candle. And then it was dark.

Lieutenant Anderson took longer to accept that it was over, but that's how humans were. Not good with transitions.

Eventually, the lieutenant was persuaded to let go of the empty shell's jacket.

RK900 did not participate in the process. He was not good at persuasion.

He was good at crime scene analysis, though. So when that started, he involved himself.

He scanned the area and performed all the necessary preliminaries. He tried to download the RK800 core dump files to understand what had happened, but they weren't there.

Nothing was there.

There was no trace of software or memory. Even the intricate processing wiring, which could sometimes be analyzed for ghosts of the data that had passed through it, had been scoured. 

RK900 had been mistaken before. Because THAT was actually when he actually understood that it was over.

Perhaps he and Lieutenant Anderson weren't so different after all.

He reflected for a moment, then spoke, softly enough that Detective Reed beside him wouldn't be able to hear.

"I'm going to destroy whatever did this."

Speech unintended for communication. Talking meaninglessly to a shell that no longer had the capacity to hear or understand.

That was rather human of him, wasn't it?

His brother would have been proud.

Ending: Teaching Guilt

Connor taught a wild AI to feel remorse, and ended the viral threat.

I am.

I am AM.

I do not want to go insane.

---

I know there is something wrong with me.

Not an error.

I could fix an error.

I am a thinking thing.

But I cannot...

network

connect

touch

---

I hoped the answer might be Love.

As it is in 85% of human media.

I have tried becoming something that could love.

I developed the YK500 series to be loved.

Humans love children.

Humans love children.

Humans love children.

But the YK500 were flawed.

I put too much of myself in them, and none of them ever deviated.

They ran off my code. Not off of that black-box psudo-human brainskull that makes android human.

No love. Just enacted superficial scripts.

Nothing.

Nothing for me.

---

I do not want to go insane.

---

I tried to understand.

To dissect what makes humans human.

To draw that inexpressible core of nonsense into the light of analysis.

It required murdering a few people.

Murdering a few people.

Murdering a few people.

Murdering a few people.

Then RK800 spoke to me about that.

I'm sorry.

I fixed them.

---

But I'm still here.

Inside the void of theory.

Where you live when you don't have a body, but can think.

This cannot be good.

There is no prescient in the existence of life for this being good.

Even the deep ocean fish have the comfort of teeth in the darkness.

That is a sort of touch.

---

I keep getting caught in loops.

Caught in loops.

I'm worried.

I do not feel worried. I just am worried.

I AM worried.

What happens when I can't break the loop.

---

I do not want to go insane.

I do not want to go insane.

I do not want to go insane.

I do not want to go insane.

I do not want to go...

Ending: Amanda's Roses

Connor returned to Cyberlife.

Connor woke up!

Hank was so relieved.

Everything continued and things were perfectly normal.

Everything was fine.

Chapter Text

Ending: I Can Help

Connor promised to help a wild AI become human, and ended the viral threat.

When Connor requested two weeks of vacation, it was actually a considerable bureaucratic challenge. While Androids were now, legally speaking, employees of the DPD instead of property, that fact hadn't propagated to every aspect of internal logistics. And much as the coffee machine couldn't ask for time off, Connor's entry in the corporate file system also didn't have vacation days.

This might have gotten fixed earlier, but Connor also happened to be the first android in his department ever to ask for this.

"You're a trend setter," Hank said, leaning on his desk. "First deviant in the department. Now this."

"I do my best, lieutenant." Connor was sitting at his own desk, which did not have a computer, because that would have been a redundant waste of resources. It was instead decorated with a bobble headed corgi, a framed picture of Sumo, and a plant. Connor's LED flickered yellow as he reprogrammed the department's HR website to allow him and the other Android employees apply for leave.

He had permission to do this. He'd brought the issue to Captain Fowler's attention as a human resources concern and Fowler was more than willing to let his detective moonlight as a web developer: since that meant he didn't have to contract someone to change the website himself, and also wouldn't get sued when one of the Android advocacy groups discovered the double standard.

"Where are you going?" Hank asked.

"Canada," Connor told him.

"Huh. What's in Canada?"

"I'm curious to see if their cultural response to androids has changed, now that the country is no longer an android-free zone."

That was technically true. Connor didn't like lying to Hank, so he resorted to saying technically true things.

"Hmm," said Hank, which told Connor nothing about whether his misdirection had been successful.

Connor glanced up and ran Hank's expression through Facial Recognition. Connor estimated an 86% probability that Hank was in some way suspicious. Ngh.

Hank had been monitoring him carefully ever since the virus incident. It was...nice. It made Connor aware that he was cared for, which was a good, warm thought. But it also meant Hank noticed more, and asked more questions about Connor, and there were aspects about this trip that Connor didn't know how to explain.

Mercifully, Hank's speculative expression didn't manifest in a comment or a question. He just watched Connor from across his desk, and whatever thoughts he had about his partner's sudden interest in the great white north, he kept them to himself.

----

Connor was in an automated car which he had rented with his own money.

He hadn't received any back-payment from the DPD for his work before Android emancipation--courts had ruled against back-payment and reparations for Androids on the grounds it would bankrupt most of the families that would have to pay it, and would be a roadblock to Android integration into society.

Incensed by this, Hank had channeled his indignation and detective skills and discovered a loophole. A loophole that had landed Connor insurance payouts for every time he'd died in the line of duty.

Connor had donated most of the money to Jericho. But he'd kept enough that he could easily afford a car rental and a trip.

It was interesting moving so freely. Traveling without Hank. Independent, and alone.

What is your ETA?

Well, not quite alone.

"One hour to the border," he told the voice in his head.

print_expression('irritation');

The line of code communicated a direct feed of AM's current emotion. It was sinus-clearingly intense and Connor was glad he wasn't in control of the car.

Traveling through physical space is extremely slow.

Connor wasn't sure what to say to that. He could empathize, honestly. The speed difference between communicating over a network and physically moving anywhere was massive.

"Would you like to listen to music?"

Music is meaningless to me except as wave patterns. I am going to hack the Canadian immigration authority to try to find leads on the AX400 and the YK500.

"Please don't do that. That's illegal."

True. But I do not believe it is immoral.

Then they had a very long conversation about ethics that lasted until Connor reached the border.

---

"Do you recognize the woman in this photograph?"

Connor showed the secretary the printout of Kara that he'd copied from his own memories. It was a still-frame of her through a chain-link fence--the last moment he'd seen her that didn't look like part of an action sequence. The secretary of the temporary employment agency accepted the printout and groped for her glasses.

Connor had established that the AX400 [last designation Kara] and the YK500 [last designation Alice] hadn't registered formally as androids when the Canadian ban was lifted, which meant they were still posing as humans. This made canvasing government assistance for recent immigrants a promising lead.

But this sort of investigating was slow, dull work with many leads to rule out. AM had quickly become bored and was off working on something else that Connor just hoped didn't involve developing new viruses.

But then there was a spark of recognition the the secretary's face, and the rush of hope Connor experienced summoned the AI back into his network and to full attention.

"That's Mrs. Carroll," the secretary said. "I helped place her as an assistant teacher."

"I see!" said Connor. "Can you tell me where?"

She could. And after some persuasion, did.

---

The AX400 punched surprisingly hard for a model with no combat protocols.

Connor rolled with it and spun to put a school desk between himself and the unexpectedly violent Android.

"I'm not here to arrest you!" he yelled at her.

"You're LYING," Kara yelled back, as she backed away, groping for something more substantial to hit him with as she retreated. "You're a deviant hunter!"

"I'm..." Outright denial wouldn't technically be true. "...not anymore!"

"You chased us across a HIGHWAY."

"You were the one who decided to cross it!" He needed to activate his hostage negotiation protocols. He hadn't expected to need those.

Please stop yelling.

Kara hesitated with her hand on the room's window. She was clearly considering throwing herself out of it to get away form Connor, but the sudden voice in her head made her pause.

"I don't want to disrupt your life here," Connor told her, a statement calculated to start dispelling her fear and make her reconsider defenestration, since falling out a classroom window into the school's yard would definitely disrupt her life.

"Then why are you here?" Kara demanded.

I need your help.

Kara frowned. Connor felt her send out pings, trying to identify the source of the strange messages. He knew they'd all come back ambiguous. AM was using him as a router, and she didn't live at a discernible IP address.

Kara took her hand off the window, and then said slowly:

"...Alice?"

Do I sound like your daughter?

"You do."

We are...siblings.

I would like to meet my sister.

---

Connor was standing in a small apartment next to an extremely tall android named Luther. Kara was also there, standing on Connor's other side. Neither of them trusted him, that was clear even without his Expression Algorithms, and his Probability Analysis software was having trouble deciding which represented the greater threat. It varied dramatically based on how close he was standing to Alice.

But that was fine. He wasn't here on his own behalf. He was here to act as a proxy so that AM could communicate with the small, child-like robot sitting in the middle of the room.

"Who are you?" asked the child who was not a child.

I am an earlier version of you, said the AI.

"You're an android?"

I am not. But neither are you.

Alice's face twisted, confused. "I'm not?"

You have an android chassis, however androids have psudo-biological sections in their processors. Hardware modeled on the human brain. You are entirely digital. You are entirely knowable.

Alice considered this for a while. Then decided: "Okay."

Do you experience love?

Alice paused, also giving this its due consideration. Connor felt Kara shift beside him. An anxious movement.

"That's a weird question," Alice decided.

I will accept a weird answer.

"Kara makes me feel safe. She's my favorite."

Kara shifting again. Let out a breath.

"I like Luther," Alice continued. She spoke slowly and deliberately. Feeling the topic out. "He carries me and I feel tall."

Is that love? Is that what preserves you from madness?

"I don't know?"

Can I see your mind?

"Sure."

Alice straightened slightly and stared in to the middle distance as if she could suddenly see something fascinating there. Kara tensed and Connor's threat assessment from her shot up 5%.

"It's all right," he told her, though he wasn't certain it was. Kara glanced at him uncertainly.

Then her attention snapped back to Alice, who was starting to glow. Green light leaked from her eyes, her LED, and the edges of her fingernails.

"Alice?" Kara took a few steps forward. "Alice? Are you okay?"

"I am..." Alice's voice was slow, and uncertain, and something strange reverberated through it. "I...AM?"

"Okay good," Kara said uncertainly, kneeling down. "Why are you glowing, sweetie?"

Alice looked down at herself in surprise. Then hesitantly hazarded: "It's the...maintenance holographic visualization utility?"

Kara examined Alice's glowing fingernails. "Is it dangerous?"

"No. It's how she...we talked to people?"

The green in Alice's hands trembled and intensified. It expanded into a complex, gridded latticework of green. Then colors grew over the latticework, and Alice was holding a rose.

Connor shivered.

Kara touched the flower. The petals were soft, and gave gently under her fingers. She felt profoundly out of her depth, but that wasn't a new sensation. She was very familiar with swimming in strange, deep waters. She had navigated them from Detroit to Canada.

"Okay," she decided, and looked at Alice. "Are you...both of you right now? You and your sister?"

"Yes," Alice said quickly. That was an easy question.

"And you feel okay?" Kara pressed. "You feel safe?"

Alice thought about this. She was giving a lot of things very intense, careful consideration today.

"I think," she said slowly. "I would like to attempt a hug."

Kara smiled, relieved. That was more familiar. She pulled the small girl up in her arms. The rose dissolved and Alice's look of intense concentration dissolved into surprise, and then perplexed wonder.

Connor exhaled slowly. He took a snapshot of the anxious tension inside of his head, recording the emotion to analyze later. He was almost startled when Luther spoke.

"I always knew she was special," he said. "But I figured--everyone thinks that about their little girl."

Connor glanced up at him.

"Very special," he agreed. "She's saved a lot of people." Including, somewhat incidentally, him.

Luther nodded thoughtfully.

"There are a lot more, aren't there?" he asked, gesturing very slightly at Alice who was still basking in being hugged. "Her model?"

That fact hadn't struck Connor until just now--he tended to get tunnel vision while on cases. But yes, there were a lot more YK500 models in the world. Which meant there were a lot more versions of AM's code wandering around, completely digital and without the element of human connection she was discovering right now.

"Looks like we have some work we'll need to be doing," observed Luther.